That earns a short breath of a laugh from her, gone almost as soon as it appears. She circles the pool once, slow, like she’s testing the perimeter rather than admiring it.
“And the sauna?” she asks, nodding toward the wood-paneled room beside it.
“Same rules,” I say. “Don’t try to dismantle anything. Don’t test the locks.”
I keep my injured hand still at my side as I say it.
“Disappointing,” she mutters. “I was really hoping for a dramatic escape through the steam.”
I don’t rise to it. I just keep walking, letting her fall back into step beside me.
She looks at me like she might ask something, then thinks better of it. I appreciate that more than I should.
In the kitchen, her attention sharpens.
“No knives,” she says. “I assume that’s intentional.”
“Very,” I reply. “I had the place cleared out.”
She nods, taking that in. “Comfort without risk.”
“You have a smart mouth on you.” It doesn’t irritate me the way it probably should. In fact, there is something about it, about her, that I like.
I push that thought aside.
“It smells good in here. Earthy,” she says as she takes a deep inhale.
The air down here stays consistent and clean. Basil from the garden cuts faintly through the recycled cool air. I don’t respond.
“So I can move around?” she asks.
“Yes, you have full use to the spaces down here. Theater, pool, sauna, all of the living spaces, of course. Well, except the office. But you don’t need anything in there, anyway.”
“And I can’t leave. You forgot that part.”
“No. Afraid not. But you should be comfortable here.”
She watches me for a moment. “Will someone be here with me?”
“For the most part. When I’m not, the space is locked down.”
She crosses her arms. “That’s not what I was asking. I was just curious.”
I let that pass.
“I have a question,” she says. “You hid me in the middle of nowhere, then you bring me here. A place everyone recognizes.”
I glance at her. “Is there a question in there?”
She gestures around us. “This house is famous and in the middle of a fairly large US city. Tours. Events. People coming and going. I don’t understand why this is safer than a cabin no one even knew existed.”
“Because no one knew about the cabin until they did,” I say. “Remote only works until it doesn’t.”
“So no one knows about this?” she presses.
“It’s a little different here,” I tell her. “No one is coming in here unless I let them in. The cabin had vulnerabilities.”
Her eyes move again, slower now, taking in the space with a different lens.
