‘CHAPTER [wenly— [wo sapiosexual (n.) one who is attracted to or aroused by intelligence in others Wila Rowan anp I pip THE same dance for three days. We ate breakfast together like a couple with serious marital problems, then he went to Moscow to manipulate and maim most likely, and I was escorted back to my room. In an effort to earn some freedom and a way out of this nightmare, I behaved as best as my mouth would allow even though I wanted to scream inside. Ronan, Yulia, and the silent maid were the only faces I saw day in and out, and it was starting to mess with my head. I didn’t know when the shift happened, but I began to look forward to breakfast if only to escape the mind-eating boredom. On the third morning, I came to a realization. “I know what you’re doing,” I announced at the dining table. Ronan lifted his gaze from the iPhone that was probably glued to his hand. If “Tasty!” and “Delicious!” in a deep Candy Crush voice weren’t coming from the stupid device, it constantly pinged with texts and emails. A brow rose. “And what am I doing?” “You’re trying to Stockholm syndrome me.” I thought he wanted to laugh. “I don’t think that’s a verb.” “Like I need grammar advice from someone who uses ‘fuck’ as a noun, verb, and adverb in a single sentence.” “Fuck is versatile.” “Not that versatile.”