Lost In Neverland

Chapter 19: A Pirate’s Proposition

Gwen

The door slammed shut behind him hours ago, the heavy thud echoing in the silence of the room. At first, I had pounded against it, yelling every curse and demand I could think of. But no one came, and the sound of my own voice eventually wore me out.

Now I sat cross-legged on the edge of Hook’s bed, staring at the dim light filtering through the small window. The room wasn’t what I expected—nothing about it screamed “pirate captain.” It was… refined.

The polished wood floors gleamed with a faint reddish hue, and the furniture was dark and heavy, carved with intricate details that looked centuries old. A brass compass sat on the desk beside a collection of maps, alongside an ink pot and quill that seemed perfectly in place. The bed was enormous, covered in a deep navy duvet embroidered with silver threads that shimmered faintly in the light. On the walls hung a few paintings—seascapes mostly, their blues and greens muted and stormy.

I hated to admit it, but the room had an undeniable charm as if its owner had once belonged to a world of elegance and wealth before embracing the chaos.

But all the charm in the world couldn’t hide the fact that I was trapped.

The hours dragged on, and boredom set in. I had paced the room a dozen times, inspecting every corner and crevice for some escape route. Nothing. I’d tried the window, but it was too small to fit through.

Eventually, I gave up, lying down on the bed to stare at the ceiling. The soft mattress and faint scent of cedar lulled me, and before I knew it, I’d drifted off.

I woke to the sound of the door opening.

Startled, I sat up quickly, the dim room now bathed in the warm light of lanterns. Hook stood in the doorway, his dark hair damp as if he’d been outside in the rain. In his hand, he held a gown—a flowing, delicate thing in pale blue silk and lace that looked like it belonged in a Victorian parlor.

Several of his men followed behind him, carrying a large, ornate copper bathtub. I blinked as they placed it in the center of the room, setting it carefully on a thick rug before retreating to fetch buckets of steaming water.

They worked quickly and efficiently, filling the tub and vanishing just as quietly as they had appeared. Another man entered with a tray of food, which Hook took and set on the dining table near the window.

“The bath is for you,” Hook said, his deep voice breaking the silence. “And so is the food. You should eat.”

“I’m not doing anything until you let me out of here,” I snapped, glaring at him.

Hook didn’t even blink. “You’ve had all day to bang on the door and scream. Did it work?”

My cheeks flushed with frustration. “You can’t keep me here like this!”

He stepped closer, his dark eyes gleaming in the lamplight. “I can, and I will.”

Anger boiled over, and before I could stop myself, I lunged at him, intending to grab the tray and shove it into him. But he was faster. Much faster.

In one fluid motion, he caught my wrist, spun me around, and pulled me against him. My back hit his chest, his arm snaking around my waist to pin me in place. The scent of salt and leather clung to him, and his breath brushed against my ear as he leaned close.

“Careful, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “If you fight me, you won’t win.”

“Let me go,” I hissed, squirming against his hold.

He chuckled, the sound of a deep rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “Here’s the deal,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “You either undress and get in that bath, or I’ll undress and bathe you myself.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I froze, my breath catching as his words sank in.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“Wouldn’t I?” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “I’ve always been a man of my word.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. The room was heavy with tension, and the faint sound of the waves outside was the only noise. His hold on me wasn’t rough, but it was firm, and I couldn’t ignore the way his body pressed against mine.

His lips hovered near my ear, his voice softer now. “Why won’t you give in?” he asked. “It’s obvious you want me as much as I want you.”

I twisted in his hold, managing to turn just enough to look up at him. His face was close—too close—and I could see the flicker of something raw in his dark eyes.

“You’re attractive,” I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. “But lust isn’t the same as love.”

His expression shifted, the playful mask cracking for just a moment. Hurt flickered in his gaze, but he quickly buried it, his smirk returning.

“Love,” he said, the word dripping with disdain. “You think love will save you? This world doesn’t care about love, Gwen. It never has.”

I didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a steady glare. “Then maybe it’s time someone reminded it.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then he stepped back, releasing me. “Fine,” he said, his tone cool. “You can bathe on your own, or I’ll come back and do it for you. Your choice.”

“I’ll bathe,” I said sharply, lifting my chin. “But only if you leave.”

His smirk returned, but there was something darker behind it now. “I like your stubbornness,” he said, his voice low. “It’s almost charming.”

He turned toward the door, pausing just before he opened it. “You have half an hour,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t dawdle. And eat. I won’t care if you’re dressed or not when I return.”

The door clicked shut, and the room felt unnaturally quiet. I stood frozen for a moment, Hook’s words replaying in my head. My cheeks burned with frustration—and something else I refused to name—as I stared at the now-steaming tub and the gown draped neatly over a nearby chair.

He infuriated me. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke as if he could bend the world to his will—it was maddening. But more than that, it was the way he looked at me. Like he saw through every wall I tried to put up, every mask I tried to wear.

I let out a sharp breath and turned toward the dining table. The tray was piled with food—fresh bread, slices of cheese, some roasted meat, and a small bowl of fruit. My stomach growled, betraying the fact that I hadn’t eaten all day. Begrudgingly, I tore off a piece of bread and chewed, my gaze flickering to the tub.

The warm steam curled into the air, beckoning me. I was exhausted, my muscles sore from the jungle, and my throat raw from shouting. The idea of sinking into a bath, even one provided by a maddening pirate, was almost too tempting to resist.

But that gown…

I picked it up, running my fingers over the soft fabric. It was exquisite, the kind of thing you’d see in a museum or a period drama. The delicate lace trim and intricate embroidery spoke of a different time, a world far removed from the wild chaos of this island. It made me wonder where Hook had found it—and why he had it at all.

My gaze shifted to the door. I knew he would be back. And the way he’d spoken—calm, assured, and entirely unbothered by my protests—left no doubt that he would follow through on his threats if I defied him.

I sighed, setting the gown back down. “Fine,” I muttered under my breath. “But only because I want the bath.”

I slipped out of my clothes, feeling an odd vulnerability as I stepped into the tub. The warm water enveloped me, soothing my aching muscles and washing away the grime of the day. For a few moments, I allowed myself to relax, closing my eyes and letting the heat seep into my bones.

But I couldn’t shake the tension entirely. My mind was still spinning, caught between thoughts of Peter, who I knew was out there somewhere, and Hook, who was impossibly close. Peter was my anchor, my constant in this chaotic world. But Hook was…

I didn’t want to think about what Hook was.

The water grew cooler, and I realized my time was running out. Reluctantly, I climbed out of the tub, wrapping myself in a thick towel. The gown slipped over my head easily, its soft fabric falling against my skin like a whisper. It fit surprisingly well, hugging my waist before flaring out into a flowing skirt.

I glanced at the door, my heart pounding as I waited for him to return.

And then, as if summoned by my thoughts, the door opened.

Hook stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. His dark eyes swept over me, taking in the gown and the way my damp hair fell over my shoulders. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

“Better,” he said, his tone casual but laced with something deeper. “Now, you almost look like you belong here.”

I crossed my arms, lifting my chin. “I don’t belong here.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind him. “That’s debatable.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned to the table. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” I said curtly, though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to answer him.

“Good.” He poured himself a drink from a decanter on the desk, the liquid a rich amber color. “You’ll need your strength.”

“For what?” I asked warily.

He leaned against the desk, his eyes locking onto mine. “For whatever comes next.”

There was something in his tone—something that sent a shiver down my spine. But before I could respond, he took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You clean up nicely, by the way,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “Almost makes me forget how stubborn you are.”

I rolled my eyes, refusing to rise to his bait. “What do you want, Hook?”

He smiled, slow and deliberate, before setting his glass down. “What do you think I want, love? You know, being here isn’t so bad.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “Let me go.”

His expression softened, but his smirk remained. “Not yet.”

The air between us was heavy, charged with unspoken tension. I didn’t trust him, but I couldn’t deny the pull he seemed to have on me. And I hated it.

“I’ll find a way out,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

His smirk widened, and he stepped closer, stopping just a breath away. “I don’t doubt it. But until then, you’re mine.”

The words sent a jolt through me, and I clenched my fists, determined not to let him see the effect he had on me.

“Goodnight, love,” he said, his voice low as he turned and strode toward the door. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “And don’t try anything foolish. I’d hate to have to stop you.”

The door closed behind him, the lock clicking into place.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my heart racing as I stared at the door. I didn’t know what game Hook was playing, but I wasn’t going to let him win.

Not when Peter was still out there. Not when I still had a fight left in me.