was starting to notice how weak I felt.
But there was something
in me that resisted anyway. I didn’t want anything from him - pizza, or
anything else. He’d kidnapped me and my feelings towards him were already
conflicted - they didn’t need anything else confusing them. I needed to stay
angry, and keep reminding myself of who he was. It seemed like that was the
only way I wasn’t going to do something utterly stupid.
“Okay,” he shrugged and
moved towards the doorway, “you can watch me eat then.”
“I will not—”
“You think I’m going to
leave you alone again?” His chuckle had an amused lilt to it that only annoyed
me more, but when it became obvious he wasn’t going to let me stay behind, I
grunted in irritation and followed him through the narrow corridor.
Like the rest of the
house, the kitchen wasn’t anything to look at - a small space with only basic
appliances and a square table set against one wall. The pizza box rested on the
table and I flopped down into one of the chairs with a harrumph, folding
my arms to make it clear that I didn’t appreciate being dragged out here.
My not-so-silent protest
only received an amused glance from my captor, which riled me even further as
he turned to rattle around in one of the cupboards, showing little interest in
the pizza we’d come out here for. I, on the other hand, glanced over at it and
started to regret my earlier refusal. Something to eat would be nice,
but now that it was wrapped up in my defiance, the simple act of grabbing a
piece of pizza meant I would be giving in. And my pride wouldn’t let me do
that.
Caught up in my internal
debate, the slap of something hitting the table startled me - as did my
kidnapper pulling up a chair close to me.
“Here, I’ll take care of
that cut.” He reached for my arm again, and gestured to the first aid kit now
sitting beside me.
“I’ll do it!” I pulled
back instinctively, refusing to let him touch me as I scowled.
He looked dubiously at my
arm and for a moment it looked like he would argue, but then he shrugged and
moved around to the other side of the table.
He opened the pizza box
and started eating, the distinctive greasy smell waking up my stomach and
making me shift uncomfortably on my seat.
At least now you have
something else to think about.
I opened the first aid
kit and quickly found a roll of white bandages. It was only as I drew it out
and cut some off that I realized I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. And I
was doing it one-handed.
Stupid pride.
Ignoring my stupidity, I
attempted to awkwardly wrap the thing around my wrist, but keeping it balanced
with one arm and trying to make it tight enough was a challenge, and - how
is this meant to be tied again?
It wasn’t like I’d ever
had the chance to join the Girl Scouts, damn it - clearly not an appropriate
activity for Antonio Santini’s daughter.
I looked up to see him
watching me, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that only infuriated
me more.
“What are you looking at,
bastard?” I snapped as the bandage fell apart for the third time.
“You know,” he drawled it
slowly as he worked his way through the pizza, “my name’s Leo. If you wanted to
call me anything other than bastard and asshole, that is.”
“I think those suit you
just fine.” I made my voice sugary-sweet and gave him a sarcastic smile.
He’d kidnapped me and was
keeping me here against my will - he didn’t deserve anything better. Not that
it seemed to phase him in the slightest, with his mouth quirking up as he
shrugged and took another slice of pizza.
I turned back to the
bandage and couldn’t restrain my sigh as any small victory in our verbal
sparring was overshadowed by the fact that I was terrible at this.
“My offer still stands,
you know. If you change your mind.”
I glanced up at him,
ready to snap at the condescending amusement I expected to see there - only to
find him watching me seriously for once, the cocky
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