I gulp nervously and start to pick at the food. There’s something about him that makes me think it would be unwise to oppose him on this issue.

On any issue, really.

My instincts are screaming that this man is as dangerous as they come. He hasn’t really been cruel to me, but there is cruelty within him. I can sense it.

“Good girl,” he says approvingly after I eat a few bites.

I continue eating, even though I don’t really taste the food and I have to force each bite past the restriction in my throat. I keep my eyes trained on my plate. I have an easier time eating if I don’t see his piercing blue gaze.

“So Beth tells me you had a nice day swimming,” he comments after I’ve had a chance to eat about half of my portion.

I nod in response and look up to find him staring at me.

“What do you think of the island?” he asks, as though genuinely interested in my opinion. He’s studying me with a thoughtful look on his face.

“It’s pretty,” I tell him honestly. Then, pausing for a second, I add, “But I don’t want to be here.”

“Of course.” He looks almost understanding. “But you’ll get used to it. This is your new home, Nora. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better.”

My stomach lurches, and I feel like the food that I just ate is in danger of coming up. I swallow convulsively, trying to control the sick feeling inside me. “And my family?” The words come out low and bitter. “How are they supposed to come to terms with it?”

Some emotion flickers briefly across his face. “What if they didn’t think you were dead?” he asks quietly, holding my gaze. “Would that make you feel better, my pet?”

“Of course it would!” I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. “Can you do that? Can you let them know I’m alive? Maybe I can just call them and—”

He reaches out to cover my hand with his own, stopping my hopeful rambling. “No.” His tone leaves no room for arguments. “I will contact them myself.”

I swallow my disappointment. “What are you going to tell them?”

“That you are alive and well.” His large thumb is gently massaging the inside of my palm, his touch distracting me, turning my bones to jelly.

“But—” I almost moan when he presses on one particularly sensitive spot, “—but they wouldn’t believe you—”

“They would.” He withdraws his hand, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. “You can trust me on that.”

Trust him? Yeah, right. “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask in frustration. “Is it because I talked to you in the club?”

He shakes his head. “No, Nora. It’s because you’re you. You’re everything I’ve been looking for. Everything I’ve always wanted.”

“You know that’s crazy, right?” I’m so upset I forget to be afraid for a moment. “You don’t even know me!”