Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

CARA

R hett's typing away on my phone beside me on the couch. He uncuffed me to let my wrists breathe and we've been watching various Halloween movies all day. I'm not sure if he's trying to scare me or turn me on. Truth be told, I'm feeling a little bit of both.

A small part of me is beginning to accept how fucked up I really am. The only thing I should be thinking about is my escape, but far too often I've let my mind drift into daydreams of what living with Rhett might look like if he wasn't so psychotic. He's attentive and oddly thoughtful. The pumpkin spice latte he brought me made me feel warm knowing he was thinking about me when he wasn't with me. I felt horrible when he showed it to me after my escape attempt. He'd done something nice for me and I'd unintentionally thrown it back in his face.

Although, I should be all he's thinking about considering he's got me on lockdown here.

But, in another world or another time, he might have been decent boyfriend material. The mind-blowing orgasms he feeds me only drive me further into my delusional way of thinking. The sexual tension between us is undeniable and getting harder and harder to ignore with each passing day. He's dark and sexy, but beyond that he's highly intelligent.

Rhett's low voice brings me back to reality. "She said, ‘Chief John cheated on his wife again. Some woman named Susan from two towns over apparently.'"

I gasp, clutching my hand to my heart. My arms instinctively reach for my phone, but his eyes go wide as he pulls it away from me and shakes his head. My heart immediately drops when I remember that Rhett is in full control. He's the one texting Sloan, not me.

Clearing my throat, I try to bring the enthusiasm and life back into my voice. "Tell her, ‘It probably won't be the last time. He can't keep it in his pants to save his life.'"

A mischievous smile cracks across Rhett's lips as he turns back to the bright screen in his hands. "He's going to end up with an STD if he's not careful."

Letting out a laugh, I say, "I'm pretty sure he's had his fair share of those by now."

Rhett grins, typing away on my phone. The messages with Sloan are going back and forth so quickly, just like they would if it were me texting her. He's got my lingo down. My own way of texting and communicating with my friends. He studied my phone for hours before working up the courage to text people back, pretending to be me. What scares me the most is that he's actually good at being me. Even I wouldn't know the difference between the messages we send.

In a weird way, I find peace in watching him talk to Sloan. She thinks I'm down with a cold and doing completely fine other than that. Covid, Rhett told her. She doesn't want to be anywhere near me until I've been symptom-free for at least a week. He knew this was the best way to keep people away without asking too many questions.

Thanks to Rhett, Jeremy is running the tattoo shop and thinks I'll be out for at least a month. He's fully capable of handling business and keeping everything in order when I'm not there, but I feel bad that he had to take over all of my appointments. My books were almost completely full for the month and he took on almost all of them. A few people wanted to reschedule because they don't trust anyone else to tattoo them, but most people in this small town don't take tattoos that seriously.

Rhett clicks the lock button on my phone as he finishes his conversation with Sloan, leaving her on read just like I would, and then he jumps up and off the couch. "You said those games are in the closet?" he asks as he points to a door just off the living room.

"Yes," I nod, giving him a soft smile. "They're on the top shelf. Don't forget to grab the cards."

Stretching with his arms above his head, Rhett groans. "I'll bring them to the kitchen table."

Rising from a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch, I head to the kitchen table while Rhett retrieves the games from the closet. Earlier today, I had the idea of having a game night with him, and I was surprised when he didn't immediately turn it down. I thought maybe it would be a good way to ease the tension between us and make him less aware of my every move. Perhaps it's a way to win him over and get on his good side. Make him trust me a little more after my poor escape attempt a few days ago.

I take a seat at the table, raising my eyes to meet Rhett as he approaches with an armful of board games and a deck of cards. A few of them fall from his arms when he leans to set them on the table. I reach for them, catching two of the boxes before they spill open.

"Thanks," Rhett smiles while straightening the pile of boxes. "What should we play first? I've never really played games before."

Cocking an eyebrow at him, I give a mischievous grin. "You've never played board games? Were you deprived as a child?"

I catch a small glimpse of what looks like a twinkle in his eye before he turns away shyly, avoiding both my gaze and my question. That's when I frown, remembering his father was killed when he was a child. Of course he was deprived. Of course he didn't have a "typical" or "normal" childhood. He spent all of his time fighting to grow into an adult, maturing far too quickly. It fucked him up. It would fuck anyone up.

"Have you played War?" I ask, trying to break the awkward tension in the air.

Shaking his head, he admits, "No, never."

"Can I teach you?"

Patting the top of the table across from me, I motion for him to sit. He doesn't hesitate to pull the chair back and plop down into it, scooting it in as he focuses on the deck of cards in my hands.

"I'd love that," he smiles. "You might have to explain it to me a few times."

After shuffling the deck, I pass the cards between us, alternating them one at a time. "The goal of the game is to collect all of the cards. We lay our cards down one at a time, and whoever has the highest card takes both."

Rhett cracks his knuckles, taking his pile of cards in his hand. "Can I look at them?"

I shake my head. "No. It's totally random."

"So this is really just a game of luck?"

Letting out a laugh, I grin at him. "I hadn't ever thought of it like that, but I guess so."

"Got it…" he nods as his voice trails off. "How do I know you're not cheating?"

A burst of laughter erupts from my throat and I slap my hand down on the table. "You can't cheat at this game. Trust me. It's almost impossible."

"I'm sure you'll find a way if I'm winning," Rhett teases. "Let's do it."

Rhett licks his bottom lip as he focuses and leans forward with his half of the deck in his hands. His competitive side is shining through, giving me a glimpse behind the curtain he keeps tightly closed. I get caught up watching him for too long, admiring the sharp features of his face. His eyes meet mine, locking with them for a moment before I break eye contact and look away.

I throw my first card down, flipping it over to reveal a four.

"Shit," I hiss at my piss-poor start.

Following my lead, Rhett throws down his first card. It's an eight. He slams his hand down, covering both cards and pulling them toward himself.

"That's a win, right?" he asks as he straightens the two cards into a tiny pile.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh, "Yes. You won that battle, but I'm going to win the war."

Rhett burst out in laughter, throwing his second card down. "The war? That's why this game is called ‘War?'"

I place my second card on the table, letting it make a snapping sound when I reveal it.

To my immediate excitement, it's a queen. Glancing at his card, I'm crushed when I see a king.

"Fuck!" I curse, throwing my hands up. "Beginner's luck!"

Rhett grabs the cards, adding them to his pile. We play back and forth for at least ten minutes. I lose the strong majority of the battles and my half of the deck dwindles rapidly. He's smiling and laughing, showing me a side of him I've been dying to see. There's a twinkle in his eye and it lights up the entire room around us. I'm feeling like I can breathe for the first time in several days.

That's when I remember my mission.

This isn't supposed to be fun. This game night is to win him over and earn his trust. He'll let his guard down and I'll be able to make my escape. It'll take time, but I know I can do it. I have to.

"Want some more wine?" Rhett asks when the fourth game is coming to an end. He's the clear victor. Again. Four times in a row.

"Yes," I nod my head. "White, please. There's an unopened bottle in the refrigerator."

"I'll be right back. Don't move, beautiful," he purrs, letting the compliment roll off the tongue like it's the most natural and true statement he's ever made.

Rhett scoots his chair back, beaming at me before leaving me at the table alone while he disappears around the corner and into the kitchen. This is going well. We've each had at least four glasses of wine. I'm beginning to feel a bit tipsy, and I know he is, too. I've been purposely filling his glasses more fully than my own. I let out a content sigh, looking around the room in a buzzed daze.

I glance down to find his phone sitting on the table, less than an arm's length away. I could grab it. I could unlock it and call for help right now and end it all. I've watched him unlock it and type in the passcode 7825 more times than I can count by now.

Wetting my lips with my tongue, I look in the direction he disappeared. It's going to take him at least thirty seconds to get there, grab the bottle, and come back. I only need a few seconds.

The internal battle eats me alive as I try to decide if I have enough time to grab his phone, unlock it, and dial 911. If I don't do it quickly enough, he'll catch me and something tells me his punishment won't be as forgiving as the last one. He left me smiling and so fucking happy. It'd crush him to come back and find me calling for help. The response time in this town is over five minutes. Even if I can get the phone and punch the numbers in, what will he do to me in less than five minutes? Kill me? Strangle me? Drag me outside and take me to a new location where he'll torture me for days on end?

I shake my head, stopping myself.

I can't. Not tonight, anyway. I need to continue building his trust and getting on his good side. The right time will come, but I know it's not now.

"Does this need a bottle opener? I can't find one," Rhett calls a second before reappearing.

My heart sinks as I watch him. He looks so fucking happy. Like a golden retriever puppy doing everything he can to make me smile, even when he has no idea what he's doing.

I force a smile to my face and swallow before saying, "It doesn't need a corkscrew, no. It should just twist off." Reaching my hand out, I give him grabby hands, encouraging him to hand me the bottle.

Scratching the back of his neck, I watch his brows furrow while he whispers, correcting himself, "Corkscrew."

Rhett crosses the room, placing the bottle in my hand before sitting back down at the table. He pushes his empty glass toward me, clinking it with my own.

"You want more, too?" I ask, meeting his eyes while twisting the metal top off the bottle.

I don't hesitate to fill his glass and push it back to him, giving him lust-filled eyes. Pouring myself another glass of liquid courage, I pull it to my lips, swallowing back a heaping mouthful of the sweet liquid. It coats my tongue, spreading across it before I drink it down. A soft moan escapes my lips as I feel it slide down my throat.

His hand moves to his pants, and even though I can't see it, I can tell that he's adjusting himself beneath the table.

"Fuck," he breathes before bringing the wine glass to his lips, guzzling it down like it's beer. "You're trouble."

Biting my bottom lip between my teeth, I give him a sweet smile before taking another long, slow drink, draining my wine glass. I set it down on the table in front of me, then pour us each another glass.

My voice is low and throaty as I meet his eyes. "Nothing but trouble."