Stockholm Syndrome

Stockholm Syndrome 8

Chapter 8

For the rest of the dinner, I continue acting scared and intimidated. It's not really an act because I do feel that way. I'm in the presence of a man who casually talks about killing innocent people. How else am I supposed to feel?

However, I also try to be seductive. It's small things, like the way I brush my hair back while looking at him. The way I bite into a piece of papaya that Beth cut up for our dessert and lick the juice off my lips.

I know my eyes are pretty, so I look at him shyly, through half-closed eyelids. I've practiced that look in front of the mirror, and I know my eyelashes look impossibly long when I tilt my head at exactly the right angle.

I don't go overboard because he wouldn't find that believable. I just do little things that he might find arousing and appealing.

I also try to avoid any other confrontational topics. Instead, I ask him about the island and how he came to own it.

"I came across this island five years ago," Louis explains, his lips curving into a charming smile. "My Cessna was having a mechanical problem, and I needed a place to land. Luckily, there's a flat, grassy area right on the other side, near the beach. I was able to bring down the plane without crashing it completely and make the necessary repairs. It took me a couple of days, so I got a chance to explore the island. By the time I was able to fly away, I knew this place was exactly what I wanted. So I purchased it."

I widen my eyes and look impressed. "Just like that? Isn't that expensive?"

He shrugs. "I can afford it."

"Do you come from a wealthy family?" I'm genuinely curious. My captor is a huge mystery to me. I stand a much better chance of manipulating him if I understand him at least a little bit.

His expression cools a little. "Something like that. My father had a successful business, which I took over after his death. I changed its direction and expanded it."

"What kind of business?"

Louis mouth twists slightly. "Import-export."

"Of what?"

"Electronics and other things," he says, and I realize that he's not going to reveal more than that for now. I strongly suspect that 'other things' is a euphemism for something illegal. I don't know much about business, but I somehow doubt that selling TVs and MP3 players results in this kind of wealth.

I steer the conversation toward a more innocuous topic. "Does the rest of your family also use the island?"

His gaze goes flat and hard. "No. They're all dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry . . ." I don't really know what to say. What can you say that will make something like that better? Yes, he kidnapped me, but he's still a human being. I can't even imagine suffering that kind of loss.

"It's all right." His tone is unemotional, but I can sense the pain underneath. "It happened a long time ago."

I nod sympathetically. I genuinely feel bad for him, and I don't try to hide the glimmer of tears in my eyes. I'm too soft—Niall says that every time I cry at a depressing movie—and I can't help the sadness I feel at Louis suffering.

It ends up working in my favor, because his expression warms slightly. "Don't pity me, my pet," he says softly. "I've gotten over it. Why don't you tell me about yourself instead?"

I blink at him slowly, knowing that the gesture draws attention to my eyes. "What would you like to know?" Didn't he find out everything about me in the process of stalking me?