A secret part of me likes that. Too much. It scares me.
“Yes?”
“Do you have someone who comes over?”
“Not yet. I have a stock full of food that will last us for a few months. But even if we run out, you don’t have to worry about it. Needless to say, if you have any plans to escape, you might want to abandon them.”
My lungs deflate with a long breath as I let my fork stab into the salad without bringing anything to my mouth.
“Can I at least call my mom and tell her I’m okay?”
“So your father can track the call?”
“I’ll just text her then.”
“No. There are no phones here.”
I release a groan of frustration. “What if one of us gets injured or sick and we have to call for help?”
“I’ll think about that when it happens.” He pours himself a glass of wine. No kidding, he drinks wine. At fucking twenty.
He’s like an old man sometimes, I swear.
But I don’t say no to a drink, so when he pours me a glass, I take a sip, too.
The bland stuff is starting to grow on me. Or maybe his family only keeps premium wine, because I never thought I would like it until now.
Creighton leans back in his chair twirling the glass of wine and watching me with a little smile.
I stuff my face with salad. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Because you kidnapped me?”
“You like it here.”
“I do, but I don’t want to be trapped in this place for the rest of my life.”
“It’s better than being surrounded by the outside world.”
Oh.
It dawns on me then.
The outside world, the truth about his origins and my parents’ involvement, is what tore us apart, so Creighton has purposefully chosen a place where they can’t reach us.
I don’t know if I should be touched or appalled by that fact.
“How about your parents?” I whisper. “They must miss you.”
“They understand. Dad encouraged this plan.”
“He what?”
Creighton lifts his glass in the form of a cheers. “Best Dad of the Year Award goes to Aiden King.”
“Wow. I thought he might be unhinged from the time we talked, but now I’m sure.”
One of his brows rises. “You talked?”
“More like he threatened me, but Papa threatened him, too, almost killed him, actually, so I pretended to faint and Papa had no choice but to take me back. He totally didn’t believe my performance, though.” I sigh. “I’m afraid some sort of a world war will happen if they meet again.”
“Which is one more reason not to go back.”
“Then we’d just be running.”
“So what?”
I release a frustrated breath. “We can’t just do that, Creighton. We have a life back at home. People waiting for us. People who love us.”
He eats in silence and I think he’s dismissed me, which is his modus operandi whenever he wants to change the subject.
I eat, too, feeling my heart shriveling up and dying inside my chest.
He really won’t look past the grudge. It’s already shaped who he is, and the more I try to make him get rid of it, the harder he holds on to it.
“What’s his name?” The question he asks in a low tone catches me off guard.
“Who?”
“The man in black who’s by your side all the time, looks twice your age, and whom you smile at. Constantly.”
I frown. “Yan?”
Full-blown calculation covers his features. “Yan. Russian, I assume?”
“Yeah, didn’t I mention him before? We’re so close and he's a badass. A former member of the elite Russian Special Forces, ranked among the first, and one of the most merciless assassins in the Bratva.”
“We will see how strong he is when I pummel him to death.”
My lips part as the realization dawns on me and I burst out laughing.
He’s jealous of him.
Creighton is jealous of Yan.
A dark look shutters in his unique ocean eyes. “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m sorry, but this is just too funny,” I say, still fighting the remnants of my laughter. “Yan is Papa’s second-in-command.”
“And? Why is that information funny? If anything, it makes me hate your father even more for bringing this Yan into your life.”
“My Tchaikovsky, are you for real?”
“I told you to quit worshiping that dead man.”