“You don’t want me?” He asks. “Of course, I want you,” I hiss, astonishing myself. I’m playing along, I belatedly remind myself. “So then, you agree to my terms? No cops, no FBI. You will need to marry me.” “Do I have to do that part?” I grumble. “That part is not negotiable. As well as moving in,” he adds. “This is kidnapping with more steps,” I sigh. He holds me against him, waiting for my answer. “I accept.”
