4. Sophie

4

SOPHIE

“ M arried?”

“Who knew I’d get remarried so fast? Guess your therapy works miracles.” Soren’s eyes twinkle as he keeps stroking the tree’s branch.

“I’m not marrying you.”

“Unfortunately, I’m going to insist.” He sighs. “Perhaps a practical marriage is what I needed all along.”

“ Practical ?” This has to be the most impractical suggestion I’ve been given.

“Because of spousal privileges. You won’t be able to testify in court.”

“I certainly can. That’s if I don’t want to testify,” I groan. I rub my forehead, trying to work the fresh headache out of my skull.

“That’s right. Which is why I need to convince you that you don’t want to testify or turn me in. I have something to offer you. I’m doing this for you.”

“Killing people?” I ask loudly. His eyes dart around to see if anyone’s close.

“No, that’s entirely selfish. But becoming my wife is a way to protect you, not me.”

“God,” I mumble under my breath, my face heating. There’s a certain Hell for people who blush when a killer calls them their wife.

“What do you plan to offer me?” I imagine him offering to kill my enemies. Put their heads on pikes. It would be very tempting if this was 15th-century Romania, but I don’t need Soren to kill minimum wage workers who fuck up my Taco Bell order. That’s about as close to an enemy as I have. Well, there was the bad date, but he already covered that one pro bono.

“Me, of course,” he says slyly. My eyes shoot to him. I watch the way his lips spread as my brain works on rewiring itself. Him .

“You?”

“Don’t you find me intriguing, Doctor Moore?” His words are lighthearted, but the subtext is deep. Oh my God…

I look back at the trees. I’d rather be killed. Was I that obvious? Of course, I was. He saw it from the start. He even noticed my date looked like him. He knows I’m obsessed and plans to use it against me.

I look back at him, feeling watery and pathetic. He raises an eyebrow as tears well in my eyes. The night has officially broken me. I could handle a bad date and a murder, apparently. But being proposed to while my perversion is revealed? Too much. God, please pick another soldier; this one has had enough battles for one night. Ugh.

“There’s no reason to be ashamed. It’s natural,” he says. Soren’s thumb brushes away a tear.

“ Natural .” I feel delirious and more fragile than ever as he tries to comfort me for wanting him.

“Of course,” he says softly. His arm wraps around my middle, dragging me in. He smells warm—like woods, spice, and amber. Is this the start of it then? His slow seduction as a means to keep me quiet?

It’s so ridiculous and embarrassing that he saw my level of attraction and thought this could work on me. That moan when he kissed me is coming back to haunt me, but come on. Does he really think having sex with me will convince me not to tattle that he murdered someone ?

However ridiculous, I’ll play along for now. The only other option is the dark forest, where my chance of survival is minimal.

His hands rub my arms, warming me up to him. I jerk away, but he grips my arms and drags me back into his warm chest.

“Now, doctor, no running. We’re still talking. I think we can come to an agreement, right? This could be beneficial to you.”

“Beneficial.” I start laughing, and he frowns.

“You don’t want me?” He asks.

“Of course, I want you,” I hiss, astonishing myself. I’m playing along, I belatedly remind myself.

“So then, you agree to my terms? No cops, no FBI. You will need to marry me.”

“Do I have to do that part?” I grumble.

“That part is not negotiable. As well as moving in,” he adds.

“This is kidnapping with more steps,” I sigh. He holds me against him, waiting for my answer. “I accept.”

“Fantastic,” he says with a wide smile, pulling me in for a shocking hug. Oh god, he plans to start seducing me right now. I push on his chest and dart my eyes around. My entire body is hot despite the cold weather.

“Please don’t start your end of the deal here .”

“That wouldn’t be very practical. Don’t you want to record it?”

“Record it?” I wheeze.

“I assume that’s how you’d prefer to do it.”

“Why on earth would I record you fucking me?” I ask. Soren goes completely still before he peels me off his chest and holds me at arm's length. He stares at me in astonishment.

“I meant you could interview and study me. Since you were a researcher on psychopathy and killers. I googled you.” My hand flies to my mouth as if covering the offensive body part will make the previous words disappear.

“Oh,” I mumble behind my fingers. “I see.” He looks confused. I’ve made a killer look uncomfortable. Who knew I was this awkward? Certainly not me.

“What…” he starts. I can see the entire conversation replaying in his head. I’m sure he’s snagging on the same parts as I am. “You said you wanted me.”

There’s a brief moment where I consider gaslighting him. But apparently, as a couples therapist, I can’t make myself.

“Can I wait in the car?” I groan.

“With the corpse?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Easier company. Or maybe you can reconsider killing me.” I want to dive off a cliff.

“You?” He asks in shock, as if the idea never once entered his mind. I shoot him a look, and he wipes the surprise off his face. He looks a little bashful.

“I considered all options, but I wouldn’t.”

“Oh? Why not?” I ask.

“Trying to interview already? Sorry, doctor, save all your questions for after the wedding.” He boops my nose and then drags me back to the car.

“Wait here. I’ll give you a ride home. I know where it is, so don’t worry about that.” He closes the door, and I’m left sitting there with that vague threat hanging over my head. Not stalking me, my ass.

He buys two Christmas trees. One to wrap the corpse up with and one for his home.

“Our home,” he insists. The drive to my apartment is quiet, minus the sounds of jingling bells on the radio. By the time Baby, It’s Cold Outside comes on, he’s parked and got out of the car.

“Let’s pack together,” he insists, dragging me from the car. I wonder if I’ll ever get to be alone again.

“This is kidnapping,” I mumble, rooting around for my keys. I find them under the smashed brie. When I pull them out, they’re sticky.

“This isn’t kidnapping. We’re getting married.”

“God,” I sigh. “What about the car?” I look behind us at Thomas’ sedan.

“We’ll drop it back off at the restaurant,” Soren comments as we walk up to my door. A thought comes to me.

“Don’t they have cameras?” I ask. Which would mean Soren is shit out of luck. They’d see him getting in Thomas' car, as well as chasing me around.

“No. Thomas liked that restaurant because they don’t have cameras in the parking lot,” he says. I stop walking. For the first time, it really sinks in that Soren might have saved me from something terrible. I never thought I’d be happy a killer kidnapped me from my date. Too bad Thanksgiving is over. I could have shared that I was grateful for murder.