❤ Stockholm Syndrome 🔫 | ✔

🖤 Chapter 23 🖤

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"Um...it's not what it looks like," I say, chuckling nervously.

He looks at the knife once more, then back at me before saying, "Oh really? I don't suppose you were planning on cutting a slice of cake for dessert, were you?"

Is he being humorous right now? I guess I can try that, too, just so he doesn't kill me in my moment of stupor.

"Oh, no; in fact, I was about to slice a sausage I had my eyes on earlier," I say sarcastically, chuckling with a hint of worry about the repercussions of my answer. James makes a sound in the back of his throat and his eyes widen, his pupils dilating as he looks at me in surprise. Pulling away, letting my hand fall on the bed, he sits and faces yours truly. I sit up, too, and for a moment we just stare at each other, and then his surprised expression dissipates.

"Well...?"

"'Well' what?" I ask, still keeping his gaze and placing my hands in front of me on the bed.

He spreads his legs and lets his length stand up in front of him. "Aren't you going to get it over with; the cutting of the sausage?"

I stare at it in dismay. He can't be serious... My eyes meet his and he has that stupid smirk on his face. I'm confused as hell, and this jackass is just looking at me smugly. I finally muster up enough courage to speak, but this is what I say.

"I-I don't...uh...what?!" I sigh in my head. Damn you, Stammer.

He bursts into laughter and gets out of the bed. "I'm just pulling your leg, baby," he says, picking up the towel he let drop to the floor before our little rant and hanging it up. Then, he pulls on a pair of pants he had thrown over the clothes rack on the right side of the bathroom door. Turning to face me, he continues, "Why now? Why did you choose to try and kill me after all this time, and during sex of all things?"

I couldn't tell him that I planned it with the servants because they and I both wanted our freedom. He'd make sure they all pay the price, leaving me to witness their deaths until it's my turn.

"Why'd you lie?" I ask him. He looks at me, confused, so I continue. "...about your parents?" I clarify.

"How did you know about that?" he asks me, slowing walking over to the bed again with his eyes narrowed.

"A little birdie told me," I reply, nerves rushing through my veins, while James frowns at me.

But before either of us could continue the conversation, the bedroom door flies open and two figures enter the room, the taller one heading towards James. I immediately duck for cover at the side of the bed, with the bedsheet wrapped around me. Raising my head a little, just to peer above the top of the mattress, I observe Cedric standing a few feet in front of my husband with his hands behind his back, and a bright smile on his face; the other figure is Kendall, his right hand gripped around the base of a gun. He, too, is smiling.