Now, being twenty minutes later, I had to drag myself out of the room to get down to the kitchen for lunch. There was no will to do so, but I didn't want to risk anything. Kyle can be very intimidating when he wants to be; and when he threatens our sons life, there is no choice for me. His safety is my main priority.

I hopped down the two flights of stairs that I saw as the men brought me to my new bedroom. As my body reached the main hall of the house, a debate began running in my mind; Would it be safe to run? Probably not.

The door was unguarded, but I bet there are dozens of men around the property with my name on their bullets. My plan to escape from the penthouse probably wouldn't work this time around, now that they've seen through my deception.

I snap out of my fantasy of escape and look up the large wall clock in the center of the two grand stairs. I'm almost five minutes late. My legs carry me fast, the kitchen or dining room was no where to be seen. My forehead was covered in sweat by time the dining room was finally in sight.

Kyle sits at the table, staring at the buffet of food in front of him. His feet bounced his leg, beginning to become impatient. As my footsteps sound on the cold tile, Kyle's head turns to me, annoyance covering the features of his chiseled face. "You're late." His voice sounds cold and bored.

"Couldn't find the dining room." My shoulders shrug up. "A map would be helpful."

His hard gaze on me becomes more apparent. Oh, he can't take a joke. "Enough with the sarcasm, grab some food and sit down." His hand motions at the food, and his words sound like an order.

I sit down a few chairs from Kyle, not even touching the food. "I'm not hungry." My voice sounds blunt and uninterested. In reality I'm starving, but Kyle doesn't need to know that.

The tapping of his foot gets faster, shaking the table quite a bit, It's easy to see how pissed off he is. The sound of his chair sliding against the wooden floor rings throughout the room as Kyle moves to the seat next to me. He immediately begins to scoop out some food, placing it on my plate. My response? C'mon boi we are hopping to the next chair over.

Kyle let's out an annoyed sigh, moving to the next chair over by me. So, I hop to the other chair opposite of him. His annoyance turns into utter frustration as he's forced to move next to me again. But this time, as I start to move to the next chair, Kyle grabs my arm tightly to prevent me from moving. He holds my arm, loosening his grip again, trying not to hurt me. How considerate. The plate slides onto the table in front of me. "Eat the damn food."

"No."

"Yes." Kyle holds out the fork for me to take.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"No."

"Yes." I scowl, fuck him and his childish games. "Damnit." My voice lowly mutter, jerking the fork from his hand and taking a small bite out of everything.

Kyle's face is full of satisfaction and cockiness, seeing how he got me to eat the food. "Finish the plate, Robyn." He talks to me as if I'm a child. "Mrs. Harper wouldn't want her food to go to waste."

"Who is Mrs. Harper?" I question, completely confused.

"She's my private chef. She worked for three hours preparing this meal. So you better eat up." He explains, letting go of my arm and starting to scoop out his own plate of food.

There was no denying the deliciousness of the food put in front of me. I've never had this good of fried chicken and mashed potatoes in my sad life. Each bite made my mouth water, I had to mask the moans escaping my lips.

To my surprise, Kyle let out a small chuckle at my reaction to the food. "It's good eh?" He asks me, finishing his biscuit.

All I do is nod my head, earning another chuckle from him. Before we both know it, I'm grabbing seconds.

When lunch was done, and everything was cleared, Kyle dragged me to his office to talk business.

He sat in a large leather desk chair, looking straight out of a movie. You know, the ones that are all like: The chair spun and revealed the boss "You called?" He smirks, pulling out a gun and BANG the dude is dead.

Anyway, my bottom found the nearest chair to the desk on the opposite side. It felt like a job interview... well one that if you mess up in, you are damned to death. As my eyes travel the room, the theme becomes apparent. Black and white with a little bit of tan. It just looked like the rest of the house, but this room was just smaller and seemed more decorated than the other rooms.

I maintained a neutral look as Kyle searched through his files and papers for what he was looking for. Damn, this man isn't organized. He pulled up a folder, holding it with victory, and dropping back onto the desk to open it.

Kyle looks up at me, a gleam in his eyes. There was no telling whether it was a good thing or not. "We need to pick a date."

My face morphs into the most confused one I can manage, "For... uhm... what?" His face remains the same, strict and professional, along with his voice, but his eyes say something otherwise: Hope.

"Our wedding."

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