He said it as though it was Sammi’s fault that stalking and kidnapping her had turned out to be an expensive proposition.
“I’m, er, sorry,” she said, feeling both ridiculous and terrified.
“That’s all right—our date tonight will make it all worth it.” He jerked his head at the pile of clothes on the bed. “Now get dressed so we can start our date.”
“While you watch?” Sammi asked, feeling sick. “Can’t I please have a little privacy?”
He grinned at her.
“You forget, Beautiful, I’ve already seen you naked—many times. Remember those pictures I sent you?”
Sammi remembered the pictures that had popped up on her phone from the anonymous, untraceable number—pictures of herself naked in the shower.
“I remember,” she said, feeling sick all over again. “But, well…don’t you think it’s better if…if you’re surprised by how I look when I’m all dressed up? I mean, like a bride on her wedding day,” she explained, seeing the confused look on his face. “The, uh…the groom isn’t supposed to see her until she’s all ready to go.”
Comparing herself to a bride and her captor to a groom was awful, but she was desperate not to change in front of him—not to let him see her naked. Never mind if he had seen her before—at least then she hadn’t known he was watching. The idea of stripping in front of him made her want to vomit.
At least her words seemed to have done some good. She saw dawning comprehension in his small, black eyes.
“Oh, right—I understand. You want to get all pretty for me.”
“Right,” Sammi said, having an inspiration. “And since I’m going to get dressed up for you, don’t you think you should return the favor…Sonny?” she added, hoping that using his name would help convince him. “After all, when you go out on a…on a date, you want to look your best, right?”
For a moment she thought her words had backfired because his face grew dark with a scowl.
“You saying I’m not looking my best, Beautiful? Don’t you know you’re supposed to love me, no matter how I look? That’s the way good mothers do—they love their sons no matter what!”
For a moment Sammi just stared at him, processing the strangeness of this statement. Was he living out some kind of Oedipal fantasy here—was that why he had asked her to call him “Sonny”? And maybe the reason for the outdated clothes, too, she thought. They might have been in fashion back when he was a boy—maybe he had seen his mother wearing something like them…
“Well?” he demanded and she knew she had taken too long to answer.
“I’m just saying that you need to look nice and neat if you’re going to take me on a date, Sonny-boy,” she said, taking a chance. “A good mother will tell her son to take a shower and put on some nice clothes before he takes her…takes her out on a date.”
The words almost stuck in her throat but somehow she forced them out. What kind of a sick bastard was her captor, anyway? And would her new gambit work?
For a moment, the situation was in doubt. But then her captor’s scowl melted to be replaced by a look of grudging approval.
“You’re right, Beautiful. If you’re going to look gorgeous for our date, I should too—right?”
“Exactly.” Sammi put a hand on her hip and looked at him sternly, though her heart was beating in her throat. “So you just…go get cleaned up and dressed up for me. And…and I’ll do the same for you. So we’ll both look perfect for our…for our date.”
God, how was she saying all this? But the words seemed to work.
“Okay, Beautiful.” Her captor nodded his shaggy head.
“And do something with your hair,” Sammi directed, feeling bolder. “And shave too—I like my men clean-shaven,” she added. Basically she just wanted to buy as much time for herself as possible. If he took a shower and shaved and did something with his hair, that would take considerable time—she hoped.
To her relief, he nodded dutifully.
“Okay, Beautiful—I’ll do it.” He pointed a thick finger at her. “But you have to get ready, too.”
“Of course.” Sammi picked up the dress he’d brought her and stroked the shiny red material. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Her captor nodded, as though satisfied by her words.
“That’s good. And put on the perfume too—I got it just for you.” He pointed to the nightstand beside the bed which held a single lamp and a purple cut-glass bottle of perfume.
“All right.” Sammi nodded again, thinking he was definitely playing out some kind of fantasy here. The sense of smell was strongly linked to memory—clearly her captor wanted him to smell like someone in his past. His mother, maybe? The thought made her want to puke.
“I’m going now,” he told her. “But I’ll see you soon. Be ready for our date. Oh—and I hope you’re hungry—I have something really special planned for dinner.”