Later that afternoon, I sat in the kitchen eating pizza and staring Louis.
I guess he got tired of my wandering eye because he dropped his pizza and look up at me with an amused smirk.
“Can I help you, doll?” he questioned while wiping his hands on his paper towel.
“Why am I here?” I whisper quietly with my head down.
“Um...because you live here?” he says bewilderedly.
“No, I don’t. Now, why am I here, why did you take me, and when are you letting me go?” I ask, slightly agitated.
“Tristan, I didn’t ‘take’ you, so I don’t know what you mean by ‘letting you go’. You are here because you’re my fiance and we decided to move to California from London to help with the process of making Tomlinson Enterprises go global. In the midst of unpacking, I lo- misplaced you and uh, my friend, Harry said he got a job as a bartender at Burlesque and I went there to support him on his first job in the States and I saw you. You looked like you were having so much fun and I didn’t wanna take it from you, but after a while I missed you and I had to get you back, so I asked Harry to do some intel and I got you back. I know you must be mad, but I’m sorry. We need to start planning the wedding soon.” he explained before getting up and grabbing some books from a shelf in the living room, which you could see from my position in the kitchen, and walking back in.
He placed them in front of and said, “Look through them and tell me what you like and we’ll get it, no matter the price.”
I looked at him in shock, six thoughts ringing in my mind.
1. The front cover just oozed expensive.
2. He thinks we are together.
3. He wants to fucking marry me!
4. He’s rich.
5a. He “misplaced” me! 5b.The fuck does that mean? 5c. How do you misplace a 22 year old woman? I not a fucking doll nor a toddler.
6. Is he mentally stable or insane?!?!?!
“Louis, look. You are a lovely guy. You are quite handsome and protective, which are good traits, but uhm, I think it’s time I go.” I say sliding out my chair and standing up.
He tenses at my words and movements and blocks the kitchen doorway.
“Doll, don’t be uncooperative. I know you are upset, but you are taking this too far. Just look at it like this: At least I didn’t forget about you.” he tries, smiling faintly.
“How sweet! Now, move.” I say sarcastically, pushing past him and towards the front door.
As I reach for the door handle, he whispers, “I didn’t wanna do this, but you leave me no choice.” and for the second time in 72 hours, a needle was injected in to my neck and I blacked out.