Fuck. “Why do I feel like I need a safeword?”
One eyebrow rose. “You know what a safeword is?”
Fear finally surfaced. Not the adrenaline-fueled kind she loved. This was a bone-deep fear that made her either want to claw her way out of the room or shrink back into a corner and hope this was a prank.
He moved toward her and she flinched. Seeming to notice her fear, he paused, then he held out a staying hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“The torture chamber suggests otherwise.” She was impressed her voice sounded so calm.
“The only girls I bring down here are willing ones.”
She stared at him, blinking.
“Aside from you,” he added then looked away. With slow movements, he crossed the room and stopped at a small table by the door. “What’s your name?” he asked, back turned.
“Evelyn,” she lied.
He turned, arching a brow as he held up her wallet.
“If you already knew,” she snapped, “why’d you ask?”
“To see if you’re a liar.”
She dropped the ice onto the bed and fingered the tender bump she could already feel forming. “Congratulations. Now you know.” Between the headache and the pointless questions, this was putting her in a bad mood. “Look. If that was your car, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t going to do anything with it, I swear.”
Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. If he owned the Lexus, he was probably just pissed and trying to deal with it himself instead of involving the police. That, she could work with. “I was just gonna sit in it.”
He snorted. “Cut the innocent bullshit. Who do you work for?”
Work for? She opened her mouth then shut it again. With a sideways glance, she asked, “Who do you work for?”
Instead of answering, he turned brusquely and walked back to the table by the door. He dropped her wallet next to her keys and purse.
He’d searched her purse? Her cheeks heated. There was personal stuff in there! Hopefully he didn’t look too closely at what appeared to be a tube of lipstick. Didn’t he know a woman’s purse was always off-limits, no matter what?
Trying to salvage some self-respect, she sat up straighter. “This is unlawful confinement.”
He looked back at her. “‘Unlawful’? You didn’t look like you cared about the law when you were stealing that car.”
“That car? So it’s not yours.” She crossed her arms and glared. “Who are you really? And what is this place? Why do you care about a car that’s not even yours?”
For a long moment, he just stared at her. Was he considering telling her the truth or deciding how best to dispose of her body? Anxiety made her stomach roll but she managed to keep her composure.
Pull it together, Addison. Being badass mostly consisted of faking self-confidence, right?
Finally, he gestured to the door and said, “You’re not confined. It’s unlocked. You can leave any time.”
“Great.” She stood up, ignoring how shaky her knees were, and the head rush that sent pain spiking through her skull. Was this a trick? Was there a giant on the other side of the door with brass knuckles and a love for making girls scream? And not in the consensual way.
Keeping her gaze on him, she walked to the door and grabbed her things off the table. She caught a glimpse of her key-matching device in her purse and was glad he hadn’t decided to keep it. Or break it. It’d been a bitch scavenging the parts to make it work.
After she shoved her wallet and car keys back in her bag, she paused with her hand on the door knob. Something stopped her, made her reconsider leaving. Curiosity? An irrational sense of adventure? She should probably run as fast as she could away from this kinky basement and her sexy nameless captor. It would be crazy not to, wouldn’t it? Sure, danger and kinky sex were hot, but so were consent and a trustworthy partner. Why did she have the urge to stay and find out more about him?
Before she could turn the knob, he said from behind her, “How are you going to get home?”
Shit. “Um. Walk?”
“We’re miles from the city.”