AVALINE

I glared at him.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you ran away from Monteval and said yes to me,” he persisted.

I made an attempt to kick him in the groin. Without looking, he stopped my leg, then caressed my calf all the way down to my ankle.

“I’m no doctor. But I diagnose you with Stockholm syndrome,” he mused.

I held my breath.

“Then you’re lucky you aren’t a doctor. You’d be sued for misdiagnosing your patients.”

His hand kept caressing my ankle and leg ...