I was celebrating. White wine this time. My first successful kidnapping. Not that I planned on making this a regular thing. Still, it went well. It was the weekend. Nobody even knew Oliver was missing yet. And when they did, they would have no leads.

I smiled against the rim of my glass before taking a generous sip, the sweet liquid sliding down my throat. I had Oliver chained to a bed in the room I prepared just for him. It hasn't been long since I got him back to my place. I changed into comfortable clothes, and now I was waiting for him to wake up. It shouldn't be much longer now.

Continuing to sip my drink, I watched his sleeping form. He looked so... innocent. Until he woke up, the upper half of his body flying off the bed's surface. Then he looked innocent and scared. Mostly scared.

I watched as his chest heaved in and out quickly and as his head whipped from side to side while he took in his surroundings. "Wh-where am I?" he said in a shaky voice. It was a far cry from the confident Oliver I first met.

"Well, you're at my place of course," I responded calmly, taking another sip of wine.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at my answer, still looking around slowly. Eventually he focused on me, his face morphing into what I assume was recognition.

"You..." he said softly, in a tone of disbelief.

I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Me."

"I-I don't understand, Ms. Steele-"

I tsked. "If we're going to get close, you're going to have to get rid of the silly formalities. Call me Piper."

He cleared his throat, looking more confused than ever. "Why?" It was clear he wasn't referring to my desire to keep this arrangement informal.

Shrug. "You interest me."

"I interest you?"

"That's what I said."

He was silent then, no doubt processing his predicament. It must of suddenly dawned on him that I kidnapped him, because he attempted to jump out of the bed before being yanked back by his chains. Exasperated he looked down at his restraints, pulling against them angrily. Coupled with yells of frustration, the whole thing was rather enjoyable to watch.

"There's no use for all of that, you should just get comfortable. Do you want anything? Water? Wine?" I picked up the bottle I had sitting on the floor and waved it in the air.

Oliver stopped struggling for a moment and looked at me, his green eyes fiery. "You're out of your damn mind. You'll never get away with this."

I smirked, taking another sip of wine. "See? This is fun already."

He growled. "Somebody will hear me and call the police."

I raised an eyebrow as his mouth opened wide. "HELP! HELP ME!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Setting down my glass, I walked over to the bed. I got on top of him, putting my full weight on him as I slapped my hand over his mouth. His eyes glared into mine, and he writhed under me.

"Now now, play nice Oliver. Or you won't enjoy your time here." He continued to writhe under me, so I moved my hand from his mouth to his neck, choking him. His mouth opened wide as he gasped for air desperately.

I leaned in and growled into his ear. "You ever scream like that again, I will not hesitate to slit your fucking throat." And I meant it. I could feel his heart pounding erratically under me, the blood flying through his veins. I could picture it splattered over the bedsheets, the wall, me. The thought made me smile.

He could tell I was serious. I released my grip on him and he stilled, still staring at me angrily. I got off of him and stepped back, never taking my eyes off of him. And he didn't take his eyes off of me. I walked back to the bottle of wine, bypassing the glass, and chugged. My heart was beating like a jackrabbit, and it felt like it would fly out of my chest. It was late. I should sleep.

Still carrying the bottle, I walked out of the room, turning the lights off behind me.

"Sleep well."

-

After the gym I took a relaxing, hot shower. I watched through the window as the sun painted the sky in shades of red, orange and pink. I scrubbed my skin vigorously until it turned pink as well. The water leaving a scalding path down my back felt so good that it sent chills down my spine. How ironic.

I wanted to stay in there forever, but I knew I couldn't. I can't be as selfish anymore; I have someone else that needs to be taken care of. Reluctantly, I turned the steaming water off, my skin immediately missing the comfort. After drying off and applying lotion, I slipped into my black silk robe and tied it tight.

Wiping the condensation from the mirror, I took a look at myself. My bangs were glued to my forehead from the moisture, and my hair looked stringy. I hate the way my hair looks wet. Big, icy blue eyes stared back at me, searching for something. I placed a hand on my cheek gingerly, analyzing my pale skin. It always kind of reminded me of porcelain.

Turning away from the mirror, I picked up a key from the sink counter and made my way to Oliver's room. When I entered he immediately sat up, eyes wide, as if he was waiting for me. I walked to the bed frame and unlocked his chains, freeing him. His emerald green eyes watched my movements carefully. I wondered what was going on in that head of his.

I stood up straight and spoke. "You're going to take a shower now. That door," I pointed to the right, "goes to your bathroom. You'll find everything you need in there- including a change of clothes. Don't take too long."

He stared at me in silence, his face a mixture of fear and confusion.

I took a deep, calming breath. "Am I understood?" I asked sternly.

Oliver nodded quickly. "Y-yes," he choked out. Pathetic.

I raised my arms in anger. "Then get moving!" I commanded, my voice raising an octave.

He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He quickly hopped out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom.

"Oh, and Oliver?" I started, right before he closed the door behind him.

He looked at me silently.

"Don't do anything stupid. I promise you won't enjoy the consequences."

-

I liked to hum while I cooked. It was calming. I hummed some annoying pop tune that latched onto my memory after hearing it on the radio as I sprinkled nutmeg and cinnamon to the pancake mix I prepared.

I had the television tuned to the news in the living room, listening carefully for news stories related to Mr. Armstrong in any way. So far it was just the normal news broadcast- another person murdered, another natural disaster in another part of the country or world, another war brewing somewhere, and the occasional positive story to help remind us that the world isn't always completely terrible to give us the motivation to live another day.

Once the pan was sufficiently heated, I oiled it and began making the pancakes that my stomach was starting to make noise for. In another pan, I began cooking multiple slices of bacon.

While I cooked, my mind wandered to Mr. Arms- Oliver. If I want him to be informal with me, I should do the same. It should make him feel more comfortable. I wondered if he was starting to adjust to his new habitat. I know that'll take time, but this experience will be unnecessarily strenuous on the both of us if he doesn't choose to comply.

After the food was finished cooking, I loaded the pancakes and the bacon onto their respective plates and put the plates on a tray. I filled two glasses of orange juice, placed them on the tray as well and made my way to Oliver's room.

He was out of the shower, dressed, and sitting on the bed. His blond hair was a shaggy, damp mess sitting atop his head. When he noticed my presence, his head turned towards me, his emerald eyes wide.

Then there was silence. I cleared my throat. "I made us breakfast," I said calmly, bringing his attention to the tray in my hands.

More silence. Oliver just stared at me, his face a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. His lips were pressed into a hard line. I locked my gaze with his, engaging in a tense staring contest. Until he finally spoke.

"Why are you doing all of this?" He tried to employ a firm tone, but his voice betrayed him and shook.

Sighing, I set the tray down on the dresser. "If my memory serves me correctly, you asked me this question last night and I gave you an honest answer."

He stood up. "Yeah, you said I interest you. What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Anger flashed across my eyes. I slowly made my way to him, not stopping until our bodies were almost touching. I met his gaze again.

"As I said before- you asked me that question already, and I gave you my answer. Do not ask me again. You won't enjoy the result."

Oliver swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. I reached out and caressed his face with the back of my hand. I could almost hear his heart thudding in his chest.

"I have an idea," I said softly. "Let's get to know each other, shall we?" I sat down on the bed and pulled his arm so he could sit as well.

He stared ahead at the wall, refusing to acknowledge me. I resisted the juvenile urge to roll my eyes and spoke.

"I'll go first," I declared with a smirk. "I'm Piper Steele, I'm 23, I'm a Virgo, and I-"

"If you think I'm going to sit here and play first day of school icebreaker games with you, you're even crazier than I thought," he interrupted snarkily. His voice had a fire in it, but I could see it in his eyes- he was still afraid.

The smirk didn't leave my face. "Listen, you're not going to enjoy your time here if you don't play along." I grabbed him by the neck and slammed his torso against the headboard.

"So play along," I growled into his ear. His eyes widened in fear, a watery sheen coating the surface. When he remained silent for a few more moments, I tightened the grip around his neck.

"Okay, okay," he choked out. I let go.

More silence. I narrowed my eyes as I stared into his, watching his mouth open and close even though no sound came out. I could feel my heartbeat quicken and my blood start to heat up. Clenching my fists, I tried to stop myself from knocking out a few of his teeth.

I stood up quickly, and I had to hold back a laugh as I watched him flinch.

"You know what? Let's try this another time," I decided as I chained one of his arms tightly to the bed, "If you cooperate, maybe I won't have to kill you." I picked up one of the plates from the tray and placed it next to him on the bed. As I walked away, he called out after me.

"Wait, what am I supposed to eat this with?" he asked genuinely, but still with a hint of defiance. I snickered. The poor man still can't decide whether to be scared of me or not. He'll learn.

I answered slowly, and with a smile. "Why, with your hands of course!"

With that, I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me.