Chapter 4: Hostage Games and Heartbeats

Not making progress between Natalie and Ethan was already annoying, but I never expected there would be a kidnapping plot afterward. Manhattan may be glamorous, but it’s never boring. —Never a dull moment.

Of course I resisted, but then the kidnappers stabbed me in the shoulder to subdue me. The pain was sharp, white-hot, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. —Stay strong.

Glancing at the calm Ethan, I covered my wound and walked slowly to the door to negotiate with the guards. “Hey, buddy, if you want to nab him, I don’t care, but me—aren’t you aiming a little high?” My voice was shaky, but I tried to sound tough. —Fake it till you make it.

I figured my status was much lower than Ethan’s; capturing me surely wasn’t as meaningful as capturing him. I mean, I’m just the Governor’s daughter, not the President’s nephew. —Perspective.

The scar-faced man at the door asked, “What’s your name?”

“Alexis Carter.”

The scar-faced man clapped his hands. “That’s right, you’re exactly who we’re after.” He grinned, showing too many teeth. —Creepy.

Seeing my confusion, the scar-faced man kindly explained, “Your mom’s the daughter of the richest guy in the state. Who else would we kidnap if not you? Think how much ransom you’d bring!” —Jackpot.

...I forgot about that. Suddenly, being the rich kid didn’t seem so fun. —Yikes.

I pointed at Ethan. “What about him?”

The scar-faced man smiled awkwardly. “His limo was next to yours, and things got wild, so we grabbed him too.” He shrugged, as if it was just another Tuesday. —Whatever works.

...

I sheepishly smiled at Ethan and obediently sat back down. My bravado had officially run out. —Defeated.

But Ethan chuckled softly, got up, and walked to the door. He was really something. Not only did he not kick me when I was down, he even got some first-aid supplies for me. —Unexpected hero.

I was very touched, but always remembered my mission. So I reached out to Ethan. “We probably shouldn’t—boundaries, okay? Hand it over, I’ll do it myself.” My cheeks flushed, but I tried to sound firm. —Boundaries.

Ethan asked, “You can reach the wound on your back? You sure?”

...I can’t, and I definitely shouldn’t. I stared at the floor, embarrassed. —Busted.

Ethan sighed, found the wound, tore off a piece of his shirt, covered his eyes, and patched me up himself. His hands were gentle, and for a second, I forgot about everything else. —Tenderness.

I was so moved I almost cried. “Ethan, you really are a good guy... ouch.”

Ethan paused slightly and whispered in my ear, “Alexis, don’t test my patience.”

I froze inside. My heart did a weird little flip. —Whoa.

As expected of the male lead—just a casual sentence could make your heart skip a beat. I tried to look anywhere but at him. —Danger zone.

Ethan and I weren’t kidnapped for long; that night, the police raided the hideout. Sirens wailed, and the place lit up like Times Square. —Rescue party.

Not to mention the kidnappers—they leveled the place. The SWAT team didn’t mess around. —Total overkill.

Because leading them were the President, my parents, and Senator Jennings—Ethan’s father. The cavalry had arrived, and they meant business. —No one left behind.

They worked fast. I barely had time to process it before I was wrapped in a blanket and hustled to safety. —Blink and you miss it.

Finally free of being alone with Ethan, I wanted to celebrate. But in the next second, I collapsed into Ethan’s arms in front of everyone. My knees buckled, and the world spun. —So embarrassing.

The last thing I thought before fainting was: it’s over, what a huge misunderstanding. Great, now everyone thinks I’m a damsel in distress. —Just great.

On the way back in the limo, the family doctor changed my bandage, but I still dozed off. The hum of the engine was oddly soothing. —Almost peaceful.

Half-awake, I heard someone say, “She went too far this time, taking us less and less seriously.”

Oh, that’s Senator Jennings’ voice. He sounded tired, frustrated. —Not my problem.

“If not for what she has, we wouldn’t have tolerated her for so long...” That must be my dad’s voice. He always did have a dramatic streak. —Classic Dad.

“Mr. President, Dad, Uncle, don’t worry. I almost have an idea.” That was Ethan. His voice was calm, confident. —Problem solver.

“Mm, don’t act rashly. Just do as Ethan says.” The President made the final call. His word was law. —No arguments.

“Lexie, are you awake?” My mom leaned over to look at me. Her perfume was familiar, comforting. —Home.

I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, afraid they’d realize I overheard something I shouldn’t and silence me. What? Is there a secret plot? —Paranoia much?