The thought snaps me, just barely, out of his spell.
“You wish, asshole! You have no place in my dreams.”
He releases me with a low chuckle. “Dreams. Nightmares are probably more apt.”
His eyes dim—sadness, but that can’t be right. He strides toward his office. I follow, my control clearly nonexistent.
“Why are you talking to me suddenly? Were you waiting for me?”
He looks over his shoulder. “I’m leaving next week. Ren also has things to take care of. You arenotto leave this house in my absence.”
“No way. I’m not doing this again. It’s bad enough I’m married to you. I won’t be chained here like I’m in jail.”
“You’ll do as I say. For your own good.” He stalks off.
My jaw drops.Oh no, you don’t.I chase after him, but his strides are too quick. He slams the office door in my face.
I bang on it with my fist.
“Elias Kent, you open the door this instant! You need to get something straight. We’re in this arrangement because you and your cronies need something from me. I’m doing you all a favor. Not the other way around.”
He doesn’t answer. I only hear that aggravating lighter.Click, click, click.
It’s been six days since he disappeared to God-knows-where.
Six days of pacing this mausoleum of a mansion, going through each unlocked room like a bored ghost. Six days of trying new lock-breaking exercises to break into the impenetrable room on the third floor. Six days of Hannah trying to convince me Elias is a good man because he took her in ten years ago as she was about to be evicted from her apartment with two young grandkids to feed. Herdaughter died in a car accident, and the deadbeat father was nowhere to be seen.
I have to admit, the thought of Elias helping sweet Hannah out brings a smile to my face.
But then I remember he’s Elias Kent.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he singled her out because of her superior cooking skills.
Scrunching my nose, I peek through the curtains of my bedroom and spot the black sedan in its usual spot across the street. Snowflakes fall from the sky.
The government car.
For the past six days, that sedan has been parked out there every single day. Exhaust puffs into the air. A shadow of someone sits inside.
It’s strange.
This morning I texted Emerson a photo of the car and its plate.
He replied,These are government plates. Different from the car that followed you in New York City. Do you need me to look further?
I told him no. But the message lingers.
Are they tailing me, or following Ren? Why would the government follow me? Who was following me in New York?
I think back to my brush with death outside the café. Ren’s worried face when he spotted the car.
Chewing my lip, I eye the stack of romances on my nightstand. I can spend my time with hot dudes with chiseled chests who can growl like nobody’s business, or I can act on the madcap idea I came up with two days ago when I saw the mysterious car yet again.
The house is quiet. Really quiet. Not the watchful silence of my imprisonment, with the prickly sensation of someone—the cameras or Hannah—watching my every move.
Elias is coming back tomorrow. Ren has disappeared, and Hannah, last I checked, has Sinatra crooning from her phone while she prepares a feast for tonight.
This is my chance to get answers.
