“She’s not my only friend.”
He just looks at me, like he knows I’m lying. She might be my only close friend, but Jasmine and Summer both could be friends if I hung out with them. Or at least, I hope they could be.
“Also, if you think those other boyfriends of yours are even getting an invitation to the wedding, let alone standing up with my son, you must believe I’m a fool. And the blond one is as good as dead.”
“Maybe we could make a deal?” I ask, wondering if I’m tying my own noose.
He laughs. “I’d like to see what kind of deal you have on offer, Ms. McElroy. So far, you haven’t given me the only thing I want, so I’m curious what other prize you think you could acquire.”
“You need a liver,” I say, showing one of my cards.
A slight tick in his jaw is the only reaction I see, but it’s enough of one. “You’re not a match. And you’re better positioned to give me an heir than a liver.”
“I’ll help you find one.”
My heartbeat is a rapid, faded echo, the hum of white noise too loud in my ears for me to give it more than a passing acknowledgment.
“And how would you do that?”
“The same way I knew you needed one.”
He glances at the liquor, barely a flash of movement, but still a reaction. Then he stands, throwing one arm toward the door, his demeanor shut down and tight. “Good evening, Ms. McElroy.”
Shit. Was that a bad choice? I stand, dipping my head at him as I step past. Then, knowing how much he likes to make others break, I pause. “I shouldn’t have asked. I just want to say goodbye to them.” The pain in my voice isn’t an act. I miss each of my guys so goddamn much that just thinking about them, like I am now, makes tears threaten.
I let them fall, a tool that I’ll gladly use. Glancing over my shoulder at the monster, I let him see them, swallowing hard and shuffling toward the door, the picture of defeat.
I’m almost out when he says what I’d been hoping he would. “I’ll think about it.”
Good enough. At least for now.
Chapter 17
Trips
My brain is ringing. It’s the only way to describe it.
I’ve been locked up before. But never like this. Never this long. It mattered too much back when I was in high school for everything at the Westerhouse estate to look fine. Which translated to me being kept like this for at most a few days over the weekend.
Even during the summer, I had sports and camps and activities, travel to foreign countries, places where I’d be missed.
My ‘sick’ days were reserved for the times my father lost his temper enough to hurt me where someone might see it. I tried to sign up for the swim team one year, just for a few months of reprieve, but my dad killed that idea after the first week of captain’s practice. I still wish I could have made that happen.
The slight wind from the well-oiled door opening after nightfall has me pushing to my feet, sweat beading my skinas I stand barefoot in the dark, no light bulb or setting sun to see by, hope and desperation making my stomach twist. The glow from the hallway is blinding after the darkness of my cage, and I raise an arm against it, squinting through the pain to see who’s come.
I can’t make out more than a dark shape, but the voice is familiar. “Do I need to restrain you?” Falk asks, and tears well in my eyes. Someone’s speaking to me.
“No,” I croak, my voice ragged from the messy combination of helpless yelling late at night and painful silence all day.
“In that case, here are some socks and shoes. We’re heading out.”
I stumble across the room, taking the proffered coverings, desperately trying to keep myself in my body. Because if I’m getting shoes at this time of night, it’s not because I’m heading down the hall to be with Clara.
Of course, my father will only let me out when he wants me to prove just how unhinged I can be. When my sanity feels more like a suggestion than a given.
God, I hope I don’t have to kill anyone tonight.
Falk takes me down to the garage—no pageantry—the radio a low hum of classic rock as we wind through the countryside toward the cabin. His fingers tap my forearm, and I jolt, unfounded terror streaking through me.
