He felt his employee waiting, watching. “I’ll work on it.”
With another nod, Oscar started for the door, but then hesitated. Glanced at Stone, seemed to rethink and grabbed the knob.
“What?”
“I know where there’s an extra room.”
Hope surged. “Where?”
Oscar shifted, suddenly reticent.
Which connected the dots in Stone’s brain. “No.”
“Boss, I … I don’t know what bad blood there is with you and Brighton, but that extra room in your cabin?—”
“I said no!”
Chapter
Fifteen
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
Sleep had always been her enemy. Six years trapped in a life she didn’t want, doing things she never dreamed of doing, made it hard to find the quiet places that let good, normal people sleep and dream. Fanciful dreams?—the kind that made no sense but all the same brought laughter in the morning. Or stress-induced ones that had the dreamer walking the halls of their high school naked. But for her, she didn’t let herself dream. Couldn’t afford it. Dreaming meant being in the deepest sleep. Meant being vulnerable. Meant being … violated.
Brighton turned onto her side, peering out the curtain slit through which moonlight had snuck into her room. High and full, the moon hung so bright.
Just like the night I met him.
She got up and moved across the room, the carpet beneath her bare feet holding the chill of the mountain air. Her ankle ached as she stepped onto the balcony. Stared up at the night sky aglow and glittering with stars.
“Not the only one feeling smothered in there, I see.”
On the terrace of the host mansion, she turned to him and smiled, tried to hide the jitters that erupted from being so close to the one man she’d watched all night. Dark blond hair, blue eyes, debonair with a side of rugged. It seemed contradictory yet so … Stone Metcalfe. “Sad thing to feel smothered when it’s your party.”
“It’s a means to an end and helps people.” He shrugged. “So, I endure… this.”
Later, she’d learned he hated those events. Hated being in the spotlight. Loved that he could do something about policy that hurt rather than helped constituents. He’d gone into politics to make a difference.
And he had. A massive one?—in her life. Changed it. Changed her.
His gruff voice spiraled from the left. Far enough away that she wasn’t worried about being discovered but she did not want to draw any more of his ire. She pulled into the shadows of her balcony and watched from a safe distance.
Leaning against the door jamb, he stared up at the stars as his dog circled the grounds, sniffing, relieving himself, darting after something in the copse of trees. “Grief! Come!” His dog bounded back and the two retreated inside. He shut the door … and her out.
Like he had almost a year ago.
She crawled back into bed with her grief, which wasn’t so cute and cuddly. It was painful and cruel, reminding her she didn’t deserve a man like him. Never had. And she’d never have his attention again.
But wouldn’t she? That kiss … A mistake. One he’d run from so hard he’d broken the door. How could someone like him?—someone with honor, integrity, a good family?—want someone like her?
That was the rub, wasn’t it? He didn’t. Didn’t want her.
Who would? She was dirty. Used up. No man wanted to marry a woman who’d been with so many men. It hadn’t been willing?—not really. But she’d long ago accepted that she’d be alone. For the rest of her life.
Tears blurred past and present, plunging her into nightmares, reliving the violence that had been hers. The beatings by Finch. The condemnation of Ladomer. The haunting terrors of her escort life chased her into the tormenting arms of sleep.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
