I heard Christian's truck outside and stood up. There was no way I would allow him to see me slumped on the floor in defeat. I glared at him as he came through the door, carrying my things. It was a wasted effort since he completely ignored me as he strode toward the master bedroom.

He walked out of the bedroom, and gave me a level look. "You think you can behave yourself if I unlock the handcuffs?"

He wanted me to behave myself? I was surprised he could walk because he apparently had balls the size of a lion. I swallowed back a nasty retort knowing that if I lashed out, I'd stay attached to the beam. I opted for a slight nod. He nodded back and approached me. I couldn't see his face, but could feel his movements as he started to unlock the cuffs from the other side of the post, but something stopped him.

"What have you done to your arms?" He almost sounded like he cared.

"It's nothing," I shot back. I felt the release of the handcuffs and pulled back, rubbing the sting out of my wrists.

"It's not nothing, Mimi," came his retort.

I looked up when he grabbed my left wrist and studied the inside of my arm. Making a fist, I aimed for his lower jaw and connected hard, the knuckles on my right hand throbbing. He barely flinched.

"You idiot!" I screamed as I stepped back from him, yanking my wrist from his grasp. My fury was unflinching. "Did you even think for one second that if anything had happened to you while you were gone, I would've died of dehydration or starvation before anybody found me here?"

"Nothing was going to happen to me," he spat as he started dragging me toward the master bedroom.

I started to fight him again, struggling to pull away, but he managed to get behind me. Forcefully, he wrapped his arms around me, pinning my back against his chest and my arms to my sides. As he steered me toward the bedroom door, I tried to bring my heel down on his foot, but my thin sandal didn't stand a chance against his heavy boot. I finally used the back of my head, thrusting it backward against his chin. I think it hurt my head more than his chin because he didn't react. Instead, he held me tighter and kept pushing me toward the master bedroom door. When we reached our destination, I lifted both feet off the ground and straddled the doorjambs, blocking our entrance.

"Put your feet down, Mimi." His warm breath caressed the side of my face.

"No!" I screamed as I tried for another reverse headbutt. This time I connected with his nose and heard him grunt.

"Damn it, Mimi! I'm just trying to get you to the bathroom where we can clean up your arms and get something on them before they get infected."

Without relaxing my legs I threw his words back at him. "Damn it, Christian! Why couldn't you just ask me to walk back here with you?" I lowered my legs at the same time he relaxed his grip on my arms. Free from his grasp I turned around to face him and saw a small trickle of blood coming from his nose. Good.

He glowered at me, grabbed me by my shoulders and whipped me around. Giving me a gentler nudge through the bedroom door, he growled, "I don't ask."

I sat on top of the granite bathroom counter and watched the top of his head as he meticulously removed all the splinters from my forearms with a pair of tweezers we’d found in one of the drawers. He’d also managed to locate cotton swabs and peroxide left by the previous renters or the homeowners. Neither one of us spoke as he worked. I was grateful as it gave me time to think. I needed to get a message to my mother and I needed to do it sooner rather than later. And more importantly, I was completely on edge knowing the anonymous and quiet life my family had carved out in the last five years was at risk.

“I need to text my mother,” I blurted out after he yanked out the last of the splinters.

Christian didn’t say anything as he laid down the tweezers and picked up the peroxide and cotton balls. Before dabbing the wounds on my arms, he replied, “No.”

“No? Just who do you think you are?” I yanked my arm away from him, causing him to look up.

“I know exactly who I am. And I’m telling you no.” He gave me a serious look. "Besides, I saw the notification text from your camp telling you it's been cancelled. They won't be contacting your family when you don't show up."

“If I don’t text my mother to let her know I arrived safely at the camp, she’ll call there. And when they tell her it was cancelled and she hasn't heard from me, my parents will come…” My words died off as I realized I almost gave away that my parents could jump in the car and be at the camp in a little over two hours.

“You have to check in with your mother?” His tone was beyond sarcastic.

“As a matter of fact, I do, Christian. My parents care about me. The drive to camp is desolate.”

He nodded his head as if in agreement, then his eyes narrowed.

“You can tell me what you want to say and I’ll do the texting,” he said.

I didn’t answer him as I followed him out through the bedroom. We were once again in the great room when he pulled my phone from his pocket. He held it up high and told me, “The signal is almost nonexistent in here. It’s a little better on the back deck.”

I swung around and marched toward the French doors that led to the large wooden deck. I was once again almost mesmerized by the view, but shook it off as I turned around to face him. “You need to text ‘I’m at camp.’ And you need to spell it out. I never abbreviate my messages. She’ll immediately know it’s not me if you just type camp or use the at sign.”

He rolled his eyes before returning his attention to my phone. “You’ll find her under Mom,” I quickly added.

“Thanks for the info. I never would’ve figured that one out on my own,” he said without looking up.

I crossed my arms across my chest and waited for him to finish.

“Done,” he told me.

“There’s one more thing.” I looked away. Before he could ask, I said, “I have a code word too.” I could practically feel his eye roll this time.

“What is it?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

“What is it, Mimi?” His voice was raised. “And this better not be a trick.”

“It’s not a trick, Christian!” I shot back. “I’m not a scheming, deceitful person!”

“Just give me the code word.”

I could tell by his tone he was aggravated. Good. For some reason, it made me feel smug. My self-righteousness wouldn’t last long. “It’s Dreamy Mimi, all one word, all lower case and no snide remarks, thank you,” I huffed in one long breath. I was embarrassed and he knew it.

“Done,” came his reply. I was surprised. I’d not only expected some recognition in his expression, but also sarcasm about my silly code word which had also been a childhood nickname that I'd never shared with him, except in my letters. But there wasn’t any hint of recall or nasty comment from him. Maybe he’s not as much of a jerk as I thought. He’s definitely a jerk. He handcuffed you to a beam, I reminded myself. But still, this is good. This tells me he can be reasoned with. I needed to have an adult conversation with him and figure out what this was all about. I stood up taller and tucked my hair behind my ear. I was going to demand an explanation as to why he deceived me when he asked, “Are you hungry?”

I was ready to tell him that food was the furthest thing from my mind when he started to walk back into the house. “Kitchen is this way,” he said without looking back. I started to follow when I heard him say with a smirk in his tone, “Dreamy Mimi.”