Right Where She Belongs

Chapter Twenty-Seven

[Kat's P.O.V]

I had a plan.

I knew the possibility of being rescued was zero to nil at this point, but I wasn't ready to give up just yet. Oh, believe me; I tried everything in the book. I tried threatening; shouting all kinds of ugly things that would have had a sailor blushing like mad. I tried pleading shamelessly - which, as a general rule, I never do - and even managed to work up a few tears, which let me tell you now, it a damn hard thing to do when all I could imagine was kicking their asses to Pluto.  But nothing seemed to work so far, and apart from the few pitiful looks Michael gave me, I knew I wasn't close to escaping anytime soon.

So, that left me with the only thing that I was certain would get the reaction I wanted out of them. I was desperate enough to sink to a level I had thought myself above.

"Wow, Michael, have you been working out?"

Yes, those words did just come out of my mouth.

Now, they don't exactly have a guide on "How to convince your dumb-ass captors to release you" so I was going purely from my feminine instincts and my - unfortunate - knowledge on the inner workings of Michael's pin size brain. Guys like Michael were the kind of guys that only listened to their second head, never with the one attached to their necks. They relied too much on them, which often lead to them making stupid decisions that they may or may not eventually regret.

Usually I was a big supporter of guys who used their head - the one attached to their shoulders - over their second head, but right now, I was so glad Michael fit into the second-head category. If I played my cards right, I knew I'd have him in melted like a puddle of willing goo in my hands.

As predicted, Michael's head - which had been previously lolling forward with boredom - snapped up to full attention. He blinked his baby blues at me. "Huh?"

I let my lips curve up into an appreciative smile, all the while swallowing down bile. "I'm just saying, I never noticed how much you've filled out in all the time we've been apart."

Still looking dumbfounded, he asked, "Really?"

I nodded, shifting slightly so my boobs pushed up against my bra, straining against the top button of my button-down shirt. "Oh yes," I purred in a voice I hoped - prayed - sounded seductive. "I guess my previous hatred towards you sort of blinded me, but now-" I made a show of licking my bottom lip, making sure he caught the movement before forcing a blush to my cheeks. "I-I mean," I stuttered as if embarrassed. "I know it sounds stupid, but now that I think about it...it's kind of hot how you're only a few feet away, and I'm chained. To a bed," I hinted, trying not to wince in disgust.

If this actually worked, then I deserved an award for brilliant acting.

Michael stood, gaping unattractively at my obvious display. I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. He wasn't looking at my face, but at the strained button which looked about ready to pop. He looked tempted to pop the button himself, but he remained frozen, uncertainty marring his baby features.

I gritted my teeth. I needed something more to push him over the edge. Michael was a hormonal teenage boy. It shouldn't have been hard, right?

Wrong. Because in my equation, I hadn't exactly added the complication of a twin who had morals.

Jordan, who'd been silent most of the time during my captivity, decided he'd speak his thoughts. "Filled out?" He questioned, amusement evident in his voice and eyes. "You're shitting me, right?"

Michael twisted his head to send a scathing glare at his brother. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded angrily.

Calmly, the second Tweedle-dee explained, "The only thing you've filled out is your head, with that incredible big ego you have."