If Only She'd Loved Him

Chapter 16

Thursday 6:00 pm

Megan hadn't eaten since the night before.  She'd been drugged, used a lot of energy trying to escape, and slept for hours; one glass of wine hit her hard.  She leaned back in her chair, trying to see, but it was like looking from an out-of-focus camera.  It felt as if someone had smeared Vaseline across her eyes.  She blinked.  The world tilted for a second, then regained its balance.  The heat in her cheeks rose up to her temples.  Was it getting warmer in here?  Erik studied her flushed face.  He looked pleased.

"Another glass, sweetheart?" he asked, handing her the bottle.  Gingerly, she pushed it away.

"No, thank you."

"At least you haven't forgotten your manners, that's good, Megan, that's very good."

"Manners, as if you knew the meaning of the word."

"Why love," Erik sounded and looked falsely hurt, "I held out your chair for you.  I poured the wine for you.  I think I've behaved well under the circumstances."

"You can take your circumstances and—" she muttered under her breath, then stopped as she felt the table press into her stomach.  Erik sat back down.  Deciding to ignore her comment, he poured her a second glass of wine.  He was only halfway through his first.

"After you drink that," he pointed to the glass in front of him, "we'll have our little chat."

She looked at the wine, then stared at him from the side of her eyes.  It hurt to focus straight at him.  She suddenly felt very vulnerable.  "Talk, you said talk, right.  You're not planning on anything else."

For a moment, Erik looked sad.  "Talk," he repeated, "nothing more."  Standing up, he crossed to her side of the table and took her hand in his.  He knelt before her.  "I'm not going to hurt you.  Please," his hand squeezed hers hard, willing her to believe him.  "I don't want you to be afraid of me.  I just want us to be the way we were." His eyes softened further.  His finger traced down her cheek.  "When the time comes, I want you to want me as much I want you."

Damp strands of hair flung around her face as she laughed.  "No chance of that, babe."

"Don't," he warned.  Pulling back from the table he scowled.  The edge of his glass almost snapped from the pressure his fingers exerted on it.

"Don't what?"  Her face was all innocence as she toyed with him.

"Don't use that tone of voice with me.  I don't appreciate it, Megan, and if I don't appreciate it, you won't either, later."

Megan shrank back against her chair.  Slowly, she leaned forward and reached for the glass of wine.  She took a sip.  Erik watched her, his eyes never moving from her face.

"Good, babe, 'in vino veritas.'  Now shall we have our little talk?"

Megan kept drinking.  She suddenly had no desire to be sober.  Tossing half of the glass down, she took a deep breath.  "What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

Erik stared down at her flushed face.  Traces of sweat were starting to trickle across her forehead.  Her hands worked against themselves as they lay in her lap.  "Oh, I have several questions for you, love, starting with that little escapade with the handcuffs.  How did you get free?"  Eyes gleaming, his gaze held her like a hungry cobra eager to strike. 

Megan didn't know if she'd be able to use the same trick again to get away, but she knew that she didn't want Erik to know anything that might help her in the future.  She turned away, trying desperately to think up a lie.  None came to her, so she decided to stall.  "Wait a minute, you have questions for me.  I have questions for you.  Quid pro quo, Erik.  You answer mine, and I'll answer yours."