Page 82 of Petite Fleur

How else would he know about my diet?

How else would he know half of the things he knows about me?

“Yes.” He answers immediately.

As creepy as that is, I should have assumed.

I’ve been seeing his car in passing since we met, and I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eye anywhere I go.

I had always just assumed that we went to the same places at the same time. Now I realize it isn’t totally untrue; it was just planned that way.

Leon stands up, and before I react, he picks me up and cradles me in his arms.

As much as I hate when he does that, I like it.

“I can walk, butthole.” I say sternly.

He lets out a loud laugh but sits me on my feet again. “I will never tire of your insults, ma fleur.” He mentions casually as he walks out of the room.

I don’t really have a choice but to follow, do I?

I don’t want to wake up with some backyard tube feed put into my body while it feeds me some mystery concoction of food that will likely make me sick.

So, I follow him out into the massive and beautiful kitchen that just so happens to smell phenomenal.

He keeps going until we reach the dining room, and he’s able to pull out a chair for me, gesturing for me to take a seat.

I don’t want to do this; I’m terrified, but I take a seat at the beautiful deep wood table and wait anxiously for him to return.

When he joins me a moment later, he’s also carrying a rather large tray filled with roasted vegetables of all kinds. “Garlic roasted vegetables and chickpeas for protein, you need it.” He states.

He fills my plate with a large portion of the vegetables before doing the same for himself, but he doesn’t start eating. No, he watches me until I pick up my fork and nervously poke at my dinner.

I know I promised him that I’d eat, but now that it’s sitting here, I’m scared.

I don’t know if every celiac reacts to gluten as harshly as I do, but I cannot deal with that pain and misery.

Plus, I’ve read about the permanent damage gluten can do to me! So even if I didn’t have such a strong reaction to being glutened, I certainly am scared of anemia, numbness in my legs and feet, my teeth changing color, infertility, and brittle bones.

That’s terrifying!

“You need to eat.” He says calmly.

I look up at him, scared to be vulnerable but also scared of the outcome if he wasn’t actually careful with my food. I have to be honest, and I hope the look on my face conveys how terrified I am.

He squeezes my hand before I’m able to say anything and offers me a warm smile. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you; you can trust me on that.” He says warmly.

Am I supposed to believe that?

“You drugged me!” I point out. “You’ve kidnapped me from my own bed and raped me! You cut my birth control out of my arm!” I add in for good measure.

Leon frowned as if I’d hurt his feelings by pointing out the truth, but how can he act offended when I didn’t tell any lies?

“Did you tell me no?” He asks calmly.

Crap.

I don’t answer, I can’t. Not without admitting that he couldn’t have actually raped me if I never told him no.