I took it, careful not to touch him as I did, ignoring the way my fingers ached to stretch out toward his. With my glass delivered, he lifted his own, nodding it first in my direction in a subtle toast before bringing it to his lips.
My skin tingled underneath the safety of the robe as I watched the alluring tilt of his head followed by the bob of his throat as he swallowed.
I looked away, taking my own quick sip and then setting the glass down to concentrate on what item I wanted to eat next.
Or to pretend to concentrate.
Absentmindedly, my fingers closed around a slice of manchego while my head swam in confusion. The robe, the lamp, the food, the wine—my husband had actively been caring for me in a way that made my knees weak. It was unlike the man I knew him to be on an ordinary day.
That he was behaving this way so soon after threatening my life was nearly impossible to process.
It felt wrong and surreal. Like the child being fattened up by the witch before she was thrown in the oven, except this time the child knew exactly what was happening from the onset.
And the child was stupid enough to stay.
I shook my head at myself and threw a butter cracker in my mouth. At least he was fattening me up with the good stuff.
“Feeling better?” he asked, and though I’d been determined not to look at him for the last several minutes, I could tell he was watching me.
“No,” I answered honestly. My hunger was abating, but my stomach still felt twisted.
“What would make you feel better?”
I couldn’t help it—my gaze flew back to his, wanting to see his expression to help read the subtext of his question.
Of course his face gave nothing away.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said with dripping sarcasm. “Perhaps knowing my husband really wasn’t planning my funeral might be a nice start.”
“The only one who can determine that is you.” He took another swallow of his wine, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Right, right.” My body suddenly felt heavy. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d hoped the whole caretaking routine was evidence that his murder plan was a ruse. “You said you want to break me down. What the hell does that even mean? You want me to be your submissive? You want to inflict pain on me? What?”
I popped another grape in my mouth and then pushed the tray away, having lost my appetite.
Edward set his glass down but kept his hand on it, his thumb stroking the stem. “It’s not really a process that can be explained. There’s submission involved, yes. It’s often painful. It can be extremely satisfying as well.”
“For you, you mean.”
“Yes. For me.”
I’d expected him to protest and try to convince me that there was pleasure in being dominated, blah blah blah. His answer instead, honest as it was, caused my breath to catch and the hair to lift at my neck. Was that what he wanted from me? Fear?
He had it. Fuck him for that, but there was no use denying he had me scared.
He must have read the apprehension in my face, and clever as he was, knew exactly how to counter it. With a challenge. “You thought you could endure it. Don’t you want to see if it’s true?”
I did when there was a reward at the end. “What do I get out of it?”
“You get to live.” His tone suggested it was stupid to ask. That I wasn’t in the place to be bartering. That he’d called this a negotiation, but it was really only an offer and both choices he was giving were shitty.
The insanity of it all suddenly hit me. “This is ridiculous. I'm not playing games with you. As soon as the sun is up, I’m out of here.”
“You are?” He mimicked my pose, casually leaning his hip against the counter. “How do you plan to manage that? Can you man a boat? I’m pretty sure you don’t know how to fly a plane. Uber doesn't come out here. You’d better think twice if you think any of my staff is going to help you. With this storm and our location, it will be impossible to get cell service.”
My insides felt hard and cold, the blood in my veins was ice. I was stuck here. I’d already been trapped into submission. I was helpless. A slave to his whims.
This was real fear.
I scanned the room, looking for a weapon, for something I could use against him.
It was a subtle move of my eyes, but he read me like a book. “Do you know where the knives are kept?” His voice was low and ominous. “I do.”
If I went for a drawer it would only be a guess. He’d get a hold of a knife before I did, and even if I managed to find the right drawer on the first try, he’d beat me there. He’d overpower me.
I had no choice.
But maybe I did. If I told Tom and Joette what Edward was doing to me, they’d surely help me.
I wouldn’t be able to get to them until tomorrow though. “Can I have time to think?” I asked.
“Think about if you want to live? Sure. I'm in no rush to snap that neck. It really is pretty.” He took a step toward me, and now he was close enough to trail his thumb down my neck, making me shudder. “But I doubt you're really looking for reasons to accept my offer and are instead looking for an escape. There isn't any way off my island.”
Anger bloomed hot and new inside of me. He thought he knew everything? Thought he could guess every one of my moves? So he’d been right a few times...okay, a bunch of times, but that made me even more pissed off.
Pissed off enough to poke the bear.
“But maybe I'll kill you first,” I said, trying to ignore the pad of his thumb at the hollow of my neck. “Did you think about that?”
He laughed, the amusement extending to his eyes. “You really are a pistol, aren't you?”
I swallowed, and he caressed his thumb against the movement, his gaze caught there at my throat for long seconds before moving up to my lips.
Then his hand moved to cup behind my neck, bringing my head up as he stepped into me. His mouth came down toward mine, and my pulse sped up with want.
At the last second, I got my wits together and turned my head away.
His lips landed on my jaw. He kept them there, sighing against my skin. “You were begging for me an hour ago.”
“And then you told me you wanted me dead.”
“Details.”
He kissed along my jawline and up toward my ear, awakening every nerve in my body. My thighs felt slick and hot, and I could feel the steel press of his erection at my belly, and, even with all the bullshit and the scare tactics, there was a part of me that wanted him. A part of me that reveled in him wanting me. A part of me that felt validated by the evidence that the chemistry between us wasn’t one-sided.
But that part of me was stupid and wrong.
The smart part of me recognized him for the predator he was. A predator who planned to eat me alive.
“You’re not touching me again,” I said, resolutely, despite the fact that he currently was touching me.
His mouth was at my ear, his breath warm. “You do realize fucking is part of this bargain.”
“I haven’t accepted this bargain yet.”
His grip tightened at my neck, an obvious threat. “You mean you haven’t yet accepted this bargain is your only option.”
There was nothing to say to that.
Scratch that, there was one thing to say to that which was that I accepted his unfair bargain and would play whatever cruel game he wanted me to play.