Taken (Dark Desires 1)

“I hope you spent a lot of money,” Michael said lightly. He smiled – this time, it was genuine. “I can’t wait to get a break from work,” he added.

I smiled too. “It’ll be so nice to spend some quality time with you,” I said. “I can’t remember the last time you spent a weekend at home.”

Michael nodded seriously. “I can’t wait to catch up on my sleep, and get some sun,” he said, yawning and stretching his arms into the air. He wasn’t particularly tall, only a few inches taller than me, but moments like this reminded me of how small I was. I’d always been short for my weight, and I felt it.

“Yeah, it’ll be great to relax with you,” I replied. There was a slight pang of hurt in my heart – why couldn’t he just say he was excited to spend time with me, instead of catching up on his sleep? You know it’s because he’s so reserved, I thought as I took Michael’s coat and hung it up in the hall closet. It’s not exactly like you ever expected to come home with flowers and gifts. He’s just not that kind of guy.

“What’s that smell?” Michael wrinkled his nose. “Is something burning?”

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled, pushing past my fiancé and running into the kitchen. Sure enough, smoke was billowing in clouds from the oven. Coughing and covering my nose and mouth, I grabbed a hot mitt and yanked the door open. The Italian sausage lay burnt and shriveled on a cookie sheet.

“Beth,” Michael said in a disapproving tone. “What’s all this?”

Feeling guilty, I dumped the sausages in the sink and turned on the cold water until the delicious aroma in the kitchen was replaced with a sodden, smoky mess.

“I made dinner,” I said miserably. “Or at least, I tried to. I’m sorry, Michael.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and for a moment, I thought he was going to lecture me. Even though Michael was wealthy, he liked living like we were close to the poor house. We still lived in the same two-bedroom condo that Michael had bought in his early twenties, and although everything we had was new and functional, I couldn’t help but wonder why exactly he was so bent on saving everything he earned. It was a nice break from the other guys my age who spent all their money on strip clubs and beer, but sometimes I wished we could have the luxurious life that Michael’s money would have afforded us.

“You decided on dinner without consulting me first?” Michael put his hands on his hips.

I frowned. “I was hungry,” I said softly. “I’m sorry – did I do something wrong?”

Michael sighed. “You know how often I’ve spoken to you about being inconsiderate, Beth. Don’t you think you should have asked what I wanted?”

“I would have made you whatever you wanted as soon as you asked for it,” I said. I felt my voice edging dangerously close to a whine. “Michael, I care about you.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “So you’d just prefer to waste food? Cook two meals?”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all—“

“Shut up, Beth,” Michael said. He glared. “You don’t have any right to talk to me right now.” He sighed. “I’m going out,” he added. “I’ll be home later.”

“What time?” I ran after Michael as he walked towards the front door. “Michael, where are you going?”

“Like I’d tell you,” Michael said tartly. He grabbed his jacket from the hall closet and slammed the door so loud I heard the echo in my brain. He turned around and glared at me one more time.

“Michael, I’m sorry,” I said. “I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Just try thinking about someone other than yourself for once,” Michael snapped. “You think you could do that for me, Beth?”

I didn’t answer. Michael gave me one last withering glance, then slammed the door behind him.

I spent the rest of the night meticulously cleaning the kitchen until there was no trace of the burned sausages. I cleaned the living room, too – I didn’t stop until the white paint gleamed on the baseboards and every single book was perfectly in place.

I’d completely lost my appetite, but I knew that I’d be sick if I didn’t eat anything. Finally, I grabbed a bowl of cereal and ate mindlessly in front of the television. Michael hated when I ate in the living room (and watched reality TV) but I figured since he wasn’t there, he’d never know. Afterwards, I washed my dishes and went upstairs.

The longer Michael was gone, the more panic I felt. Even a long, hot shower didn’t help. Finally, I dug through the closet and pulled out my new nightdress. I figured that maybe I needed a little bit of luck tonight – besides, the wedding was two months away, and I could always go shopping for more stuff. I ripped the tags off, then pulled the nightgown over my head and climbed into bed. The clean cotton against my skin felt relaxing, and soon, despite my anxiety, I was drifting off to sleep.

The next thing I knew, Michael was holding on my shoulder and breathing noisily in my ear.

“Michael?” My voice was thick and clogged with sleep. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Beth,” Michael grunted. He put his hand inside my cotton nightgown, pawing at my breasts. Normally the touch of his fingers on my nipples was enough to send my heart racing with desire, but it felt wrong all of a sudden.

“Michael, I’m not really in the mood,” I said as I shifted under Michael’s body. Instead of taking his hand away, he slipped his fingers to my other breast, pinching and rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger. Pleasure raced through my body but my heart felt numb and wooden in my chest.

“C’mon, baby,” Michael pleaded. The sour smell of whiskey washed over my face and I groaned, turning away.