Emily
The next day, she worked from home, like she'd told Edward she would. She spent the morning catching up on emails and voicemails, looking over presentations, and reviewing revenue projections. There was an upcoming shareholders' meeting, as well, that really needed to be looked at.
She took a break a couple of hours in, the pot of coffee she'd had for breakfast sitting in her stomach like lead. She ran her hands through her hair, groaning at the amount of catching up she still had to do. Apparently, being kidnapped for a week and kept hostage in your home by a sexy psychopath tended to make the work build up for you.
Dane came in as she was taking her break, staring off blankly at the wall. In his hand, he held two plates, each adorned with a delicious-looking BLT.
“Sorry,” he said, as he came in. “But I know you’re sick of smoothies.”
She grinned at him as he came around the desk. “They smell delicious,” she said, closing up her planner and setting it aside.
He set the plate down in front of her. “Two slices of whole wheat bread, fresh tomatoes, lettuce, and lots of bacon,” he said. “Couldn't be more simple.”
A pleasurable memory of the evening before flashed in her mind as he went back around and set his plate right where she'd had her body planted. She could almost feel his touch again, feel the way he stretched her, and how he spanked her receptive body. With a small smile, she turned her attention to the sandwich and took a tiny bite.
“What do you think?” he asked, as he pulled up the chair and settled in.
She gave him a thumbs-up and took another bite, her stomach growling as the salty, fried bacon invaded her senses.
They descended on their sandwiches like wild animals, tearing through them. They'd both woken up early, and Dane had spent much of the day outside in the garden, while she'd worked in the office. Soon, they were each through the first halves of their sandwich. As Emily lifted her second one to her mouth, she noticed Dane had paused. “You okay?” she asked.
“I've been thinking,” he said. “I think I know how to make the Times run the story.”
Not liking something about the way he'd said it, Emily set her sandwich back down on her plate. “Well?” she asked.
“A hostage situation,” he said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact.
Emily was already shaking her head before he could continue. “No way in fucking—”
“It would force them to cover it, Emily,” he said, cutting her off. “Including the details of what was happening and why it happened. They couldn't be accused of harassing BioSphere, either, because they'd just be covering the story of you getting kidnapped and held for ransom.”
“Ransom?” Emily asked, laughing.
“Thirty million dollars,” he said. “Should get their attention.”
“Who the hell would pay that kind of money for me?”
He shrugged. “You. Who else? I went through your finances.”
“Of course, you did,” she muttered. “Because you're Dane, the psycho I'm sleeping with.”
He just smiled and shrugged again. “Yep, that's me.”
“I want to send Charlene a message demanding the money for your release.”
“Do you know how fast that'll bring the cops down on us? I thought the whole point of this was to get your brother out of prison, not to get you thrown in there with him!”
He shook his head. “It's just four walls, Emily,” he said quietly. “I'd get out eventually. Benton, though . . .”
She sighed and looked down at her sandwich. She'd suddenly lost her appetite and she pushed the plate away. “What if the cops do show up here, though? What if you get hurt, Dane?”
“Why would you care?” he asked. There was no malice in the way he asked it. It was just a question.
“I . . .”
“You what?” he pressed.
“I'm probably pretty messed up in my own way for admitting this right now,” she said, as she reached across the desk and touched his hand, “but I care about you, Dane. I really do.”
“So, you'll help me then?”
“What?” she asked, letting out an exasperated sigh. “No! That's the exact opposite. I'm not going to help you with this!”
# # #
Dane
He could see it in her eyes, even though she didn't use the word. She loved him as much as he loved her. Why else would she not want to involve the cops?
After all these years, after all his time away, and, finally, after all he'd spent chasing after a defense for his brother, he finally had something worth keeping. She was like the calm in the midst of the storm, the first sign that the new dawn was going to be peaceful, and gentler than the torrential night.
She was beautiful, intelligent, successful, funny, and determined. He couldn't have found a better woman if he'd created her himself. And he knew she wanted him forever. It was in the way she begged for the pleasure only he could give her, the way she pleaded for him to be inside her, and even how she crawled into his lap the day after he'd violated her in so many delicious ways.
And he could keep her, too. He knew it. She could be his for the rest of his life. And what a life it would be. He would have money, success, and amazing sex. Of course, Dane would still go back to work, so he could be his own man and earn his own income. The possibilities were endless with this inside and outside beauty.
All he had to do was give up this crusade to save Benton. All he had to do was throw away the last few years of his life, throw his hands in the air, and say goodbye to his twin brother.
There was no way he was going to do that, though. He locked eyes with the woman of his dreams and shook his head. “If you won't help me,” he said, as he reached into his pocket and dug out the dog collar, “then I'll just have to help myself.” He dropped the collar and leash on the desk next to his BLT.
Emily's eyes looked down at the collar, then back to him. “You can't be serious, Dane.”
“I'm serious. When have I not been? Look, if you care about me like you say you do, you'll help me with this. You'll help me get this story out, and you'll help me with Benton's legal fund.”
“But the cops are going to come here looking to put you down.”
He shook his head. “I'll survive the cops, don't worry. I'm not worried about them at all.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Fine,” she said, finally giving into his plan. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you,” he said, licking his lips again, “back in the chair. And a little roughed up.”
“A little?” she asked, eyebrow raised.
“Not too bad,” he said. “Just enough to sell it.”