I need to get away, and I can’t leave, can’t hurt them like that, so my brain careens, back and forth, back and forth. My hands yank at my hair, trying to tear the thoughts out by the root, but nothing works.
I hear a noise at the door. I shove my hands under my thighs. If they see how far I’m gone, I’ll have no chance to run.
Drake strolls back in the room, blabbering on and on with his fake friendly face, but I can’t make out the words. He piles food on a paper plate, sets it on the low table next to me with a plastic fork and a can of sparkling water. Then he grabs a container, props his ass on the edge of his desk, and shovels shells into his mouth as he babbles.
His words mix up like alphabet soup. The roaring in my head rises to a terrible shriek. I have to do something. What do I do?
And then the door flies open. My overamped heart shoots into my throat. Adrian strides in like he owns the place.
Drake calmly sets his plate on the desk, unsurprised. He was expecting him. My lawyer’s not on my side, either.
Adrian’s hair is damp. He’s wearing the thin white hoodie he wears after he gets out of the river from rowing and navy athletic pants. He never wears his exercise clothes in public.
His face is dark with rage.
Drake slips out of the office like a coward.
“Come on,” he snarls. He holds out his hand and snaps his fingers once. “We’re getting out of here.”
I stare at him. His hoodie’s damp, too. He must’ve come straight from the river or the gym, not the shower.
Losing patience, he seizes my hand and hauls me out of the chair. My body is stuffed full of cotton, so I go easily. He pulls me along behind him. My feet, ten stories below my floating head, stumble across the carpet.
“Mr. Maddox—” Drake calls out from where he’s cozied up with Jules by the reception desk, their rat eyes glittering with the scandal of it all.
Adrian ignores him, and we sail into the hallway. Johnson falls in behind us. Where did he come from?
Vibrating with aggression, Adrian marches me down thestairs and through the lobby. Martinez opens the car door. Adrian shoves me into the back seat.
“Take us home. And close the partition,” Adrian growls at him and folds himself into the seat beside me. “What do you think you were doing?” he mutters, rooting in the seat cushions for the seatbelt to buckle me in.
The car pulls off into traffic, and Adrian settles back in his seat, glowering at the tinted divider. “What exactly did you think that third rate gigolo was going to do for you? I own him. I own everyone and everything around you. Get it, Cora? Or should I sayCara?”
My head swivels to face him like a weathervane in the wind. I have that little control over the movement. I blink at him, trying to see him clearer, but he’s a Picasso of bottomless eyes and snarling teeth.
I should be terrified. No one is ever supposed to know. That’s how I keep me safe. He’d never love me if he knew who I really am. A hysterical giggle slips from my lips. What does it matter now?
Adrian’s expression somehow darkens even more. “You think it’s funny? What were you going to do, Cora? Were you really going to walk away from your own children?”
Very far away, in a reflection of a reflection, a heart cracks open in a woman who is a solid version of me.
“They’re just babies. They need their mother,” his voice rises to almost a shout, and then drops to a bitter sneer. “Do you havenothingto say for yourself?”
Drake must’ve told him what I said about leaving town.
When I don’t answer, he grinds his teeth and turns to stare out the window.
We drive the rest of the way home in serrated silence. I want to ask about Pearl and Winnie, and how he knows who I am, and tell him that he needs to rehire Delaney before she sics CPS on us—that he has to protect the girls—buteverything wars in my throat, and nothing is connecting, not the words to the sounds or the thoughts to my muscles. We stop at lights, and Icouldget out, I could run, but I’m a character in a video game, and the kid playing left without turning the TV off.
By the time we get home, I’ve done nothing, but tread and retread the same impossible terrain in my gummy head. I have to protect my babies, but no matter what I do, they’ll get hurt.
As soon as the car rolls to a stop, Adrian unbuckles me, jumps out, seizes my wrist, and drags me behind him toward the house. I trot to keep up. Behind us, I hear the car pull away.
Before we’re halfway up the stairs, Vera opens the door, her bland smile faltering as she sees us.
“Tell the staff to take the rest of the day off. You as well,” Adrian barks as he propels me across the foyer, past the red and white holiday roses, and into the library. The Christmas tree is lit, the fire is crackling, and pine, smoke, leather, and books scent the air. The room looks like a streaming video you put on to set the holiday mood.
“Sit down,” he snarls, thrusting me toward the sofa. I trip and end up doing exactly what I’m told.
