Page 27 of The Art of Almost Losing It
He lets out a breath.
I’m on thin ice, but I don’t care. The last thing I ate was pizza last night, and now I’m hangry. I am not someone who skips breakfast.
“Guess you should have been more discerning in your choice of victim.”
His nostrils flare.
Little paws scamper across the lush carpet.
“Lulu!” I shriek as the Frenchie rushes over to me, licking my face.
“That’s what you named that dog? Lulu?”
I stand up, Lulu in my arms. “No, I didn’t, and it’s really not any of your business. Next time youkidnap someone,you can choose a girl with a dog with a different name.”
The scowl is back on his handsome face.
And yeah, it is handsome.
Unfortunately.
If you had to get kidnapped by someone…
Except guys don’t like me on a good day, and my kidnapper is clearly disgusted by me.
That’s a good thing, right? That means he won’t—gulp—you know. Take my V-card.
But I really have some self-esteem issues if I’m a little miffed by it.
It really is what they say: We women are so toxic. A man is tall and rich and attractive, and we will literally let him get away with any type of shit.
He looks at his watch, impatient.
“We need to go. We’ll be late. We cannot keep my mother waiting.”
“Wait,” I say slowly, looking up at him. “You’re actually taking me out somewhere?”
“For brunch, yes.”
“At a restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“With your mother?”
His jaw clenches. “Her whole family will be there.”
“Love a family-inclusive kidnapping.”
“I didn’t bring you here—”
“Kidnap me.”
“—so that you can just insult me and mess up my closet. Now hurry up. If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late.”
“What if I run off? What if I scream and tell everyone that you kidnapped me?” I argue.
“You have no sense of self-preservation. It’s like in the car yesterday with that damn dog. You could have escaped. You should have escaped.” He tugs at the collar of his shirt. “You don’t tell the kidnapper your escape plan. God, no wonder you were wandering outside in the middle of the night alone.”
