I roll over, my mind spinning frantically to stop from going back over what happened last night again and again. I wonder what Elio is telling Ronan right now. Is he lying outright, or just omitting key details? Either way, he's risking everything for me—his position, his relationship with my brother, possibly his life. The thought makes my chest tight with guilt. If something happens to him because of this, it’s my fault.
Was what happened last night my fault? Should I have known better? Said no sooner? Not gone home with him?
Part of me wants to call Mara to tell her everything and ask her what to do, but I have no way of doing that right now. My phone is somewhere in the wreckage of last night—probably still in Desmond's apartment where I left my clutch. If he’s smart, he’s gotten rid of it by now, so it can’t be traced to his penthouse.
I’m cut off from the world in a way that's both terrifying and oddly liberating. No one can reach me here. No one can demand explanations or ask questions I'm not ready to answer. And after all, that’s why I asked Elio to bring me here. So I can figure out what to do next in my own time. Process this before Ronan starts demanding answers.
But that also means I can't reach anyone else. If something happens to Elio, if Desmond somehow tracks us down, I'll be completely on my own.
The thought sends another wave of panic through me, and I have to focus on my breathing to keep from hyperventilating.In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count to ten.Remember that I'm safe, that there are guards outside, that Elio will be back soon.
But "soon" is a relative term, and every minute that passes feels like an hour.
I consider getting up, exploring the cabin more thoroughly, maybe finding something to eat. But the bed feels like the only safe space in this unfamiliar place, and I can't bring myself toleave it. Instead, I pull the covers up to my chin and try to lose myself in memories of better times.
A summer afternoon, out by the pool in my bikini. Elio walking out onto the deck, wearing swim trunks. The way I felt seeing his chest, his abs, thoughts awakening in my mind that I hadn’t even considered before.
His gaze sliding over me. Falling on the book in my hands.
“Good book?” Before I’d realized it, he’d walked over to me. I couldn’t breathe. He smelled like sunscreen and warm male skin. I was too hot suddenly, and shivery all at the same time. I didn’t understand what I was feeling. Only that I wanted… something, and it all had to do with him.
"It's okay," I managed, suddenly tongue-tied in his presence.
"What's it about?"
I said it was a horror novel, too embarrassed to admit it was a romance. And then, two seconds later, realizing that the cover gave it away, and he knew I was lying.
There was a smirk on his lips when he saw it. His eyes slid over me, and I wanted him to look. Wanted him to like what he saw.
I’d never wanted a boy to look at me like that before.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires snaps me out of my reverie, and this time the engine doesn't fade away. It gets closer, then stops altogether. A car door slams, followed by the sound of footsteps on what must be a front porch.
My whole body goes rigid with fear. It could be Elio coming back, but it could also be Desmond. Or Ronan, ready to demand answers.
I hear voices outside—low, masculine tones that I can't quite make out through the walls. One of them sounds familiar, but I can't place it from this distance.Is it Elio?
Then I hear the front door open, and my heart stops beating altogether.
"Annie?" Elio's voice carries down the hallway, and I nearly sob with relief.
"I'm here," I call back, my voice cracking with emotion.
His footsteps are quick on the hardwood floor, and then he steps into the bedroom doorway. He’s wearing suit trousers and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and he looks rumpled and exhausted. His dark hair is disheveled like he's been running his hands through it, and there are lines of stress around his green eyes that weren't there before.
But he's here. He's safe. I’m safe. And for the first time since I woke up alone, I can breathe properly again.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice gentle as he steps into the room.
"Better now that you're back," I admit, then immediately feel foolish for being so transparent. I feel my cheeks heat up, and I swallow hard, sitting up against the pillows as I bring my knees up to my chest.
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. He moves closer to the bed, and I catch a whiff of his cologne.
"I'm sorry I had to leave," he says, sitting on the edge of the mattress, giving me plenty of space. "I didn't want to wake you, and there were things I needed to take care of."
"What kind of things?"
He's quiet for a moment, and I can see him weighing how much to tell me. "I had to meet with Ronan. He's… concerned about your disappearance."
