Chapter 140

"You want to get ice cream?" I asked, running my finger over the tough fabric of the white chairs. It somehow managed to be soft and firm at the same time. Obviously expensive. Not that I’d expect anything less in the fancy place.

Frankie stared at me a little too long, as if he read my mind and realized I was having a moment with the chair. Or maybe he tried to figure out if he had to keep repeating himself because I was stupid.

"Yeah," he finally said.

"Right now?" What world did I live in that I argued over ice cream with my kidnapper? It was bizarre even for me, and one time I came home after my freshman homecoming to find Westley counting out a hundred grand on our dining room table.

Frankie popped a French fry in his mouth and chewed, staring at me like I was the crazy one. "As they say, there’s no time like the present."

"I’m a kidnap victim." Did he forget why he stashed me here?