Duke snores away on my bed, blissfully ignorant of my blooming existential crisis. No, not my bed.His. Fox. “What did he expect?” I mutter to the sleeping dog. “He stalks in here all big and powerful in the shadows, and I’m meant to, what?” I pull at my hair. “Roll over and open my legs? This isn’t a stalker fantasy or stranger desire.” I stride into the ensuite and turn on the shower. “Is that how people conduct themselves these days? Have things really changed in the short time I’ve been married? Did the world wake up nuts? No dinner, no dates?” I peel the silk nightgown from my body and sigh as I dive under the spray. “It’s going to be enough togive me new nightmares for weeks. I should bill him for my extra therapy—if I could go to therapy.” I jerk the loofah into the air. “Ha, I should make him sit and listen to me in penance. If he can’t solve my nightmares, he can fucking share them.”
My hand braces against the wall as the first sob wrenches from my throat. I let myself cry in the shower. It’s the only time I do, because my tears get washed away instantly.
I’m stupid for staying this long. It’s time to move on. My hands cover my face, and I scream into them. I’ve just stopped being exhausted. I convinced myself I could stay here longer. Comfort and safety is a seductive illusion. Nowhere is safe from Gideon and remaining here only puts Helen in danger.
It’s difficult not being able to form any meaningful connections, relationships, and friendships. How can I, when they all have short expiration dates?
I turn the knob, cutting off the stream of water, and step out to wrap myself in a big fluffy towel. My gaze catches upon my reflection in the mirror. I’ve put on a little weight while I’ve been here, reducing the sunken dark rings around my eyes. My skin is flushed and clearer with the quality of food I eat with Helen, and I laughed. For the first time in months—truly laughed.
I check the chair is still wedged beneath the handle of the door before grabbing a set of silky pink sleep shorts and matching cami. The black silk gown I dump in the garbage. No amount of delicate washing is getting blood out of that. I retrieve the gun off the floor, snap the safety on, before sliding it underneath my pillow and climbing into bed. Duke nudges my leg, getting even closer. He’s such a cuddler.
I shot someone.Fuck.I shot my boss’s grandson. Everyone’s okay, nobody’s dead. Right, like that should be the bar for a good day. My thoughts turn to Fox again as I try to get comfortable.I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about the only person Helen speaks of fondly.Stop it. We’re leaving, remember?
The glowing clock on the bedside table reads 3 a.m. I bash my pillow with a fist and twist my legs in the sheets before puffing out an exasperated breath. Staring at the ceiling doesn’t bring sleep. Nor does counting sheep or thatrelax your toesshit. Sighing, I twist and turn on the lamp, then grab the book from the pillow next to me. Romantic suspense is my new favorite sub-genre. I crack it open and fall into another world where the hero who stalks the woman would never hurt her, but will burn anyone who dares to try.
When my eyes start crossing, I glance at the clock and blink at the time.Fuck.I blame the book. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding the entire time. But now I have a full day ahead of me with no sleep. It’s not like I haven’t done it before, but I’m self aware enough to recognize I’m a bitch when I’m exhausted.
Ugh. Swim first. I slip on my red bikini and Duke drags his eyes open, huffs, and rolls over to face away from me. I eyeball the chair jammed under the door and bite my bottom lip. Nobody sane is awake at this time of day. I can be out of the house, into the pool, and back again before he’s even awake.
“Fuck it,” I grumble as I drag the chair away from the door and dart through the sitting room, out of the front door, and into the cool pool. See? Nothing to worry about. I do an extra ten lengths hoping the exercise will catch up with me tonight and knock me out. Once Fox is sleeping in the main house, I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll make a plan and be gone within a week. I have saved enough money to do without work for a few months if I’m careful. That gives Helen time to find a replacement, and if not, she has her grandson now. Is he aware of her condition? I haven’t pried, but she needs the support. Some days are worse than others.
Rising from the pool, I grab my towel from the side and drymyself off. I’ll make her pancakes this morning and that slow-cooked lamb dish for dinner to help break the news of my pending departure to her.
My lips and throat are dry after my extra laps, so I slide open the back door to the main house and stride into the dark kitchen. The air is coated with the rich scent of java, and I wonder if Henry helped himself before Helen ushered him out of her door before the birds chirped their early song. I open the refrigerator, grab the jug of orange juice, and pour myself a large glass before downing the whole thing and topping it back up.
“Not going to offer me one?” a low rumbling voice asks.
I squeak and spin on my heel. Fox sits at the breakfast bar with his head resting on his palm. My hand pushes against my chest to stop my heart from escaping. “Why the fuck are you sitting in the dark like a creep? Did my shooting you not suggest that it is a deadly course of action around me?”
He smirks as he sips at his mug—the source of the java. I’m an idiot. “I considered it, but I don’t believe you are hiding a weapon inside that bikini.”
My hands fist as I fight the urge to run and cover up from his assessing gaze. “You could have announced yourself as I came in.”
He tilts his head and climbs to his feet. “Why?”
I swallow as he rounds the breakfast bar. “Normal folks don’t sit around drinking coffee in the dark, letting others believe they aren’t there.”
He’s dressed only in a pair of dark sleep pants—no shirt, no shoes—displaying his stupid muscles for the world to see. I wonder if they are as smooth and firm as they appear to be. “You came to drink in the dark. Does that mean you aren’t normal?”
He stalks closer, and my heart races as I back up. “I guess not. What are you doing?”
Heat rolls off him, like he runs a few degrees warmer than the rest of us. It’s making my skin flush. His hands land on either side of me, grasping the countertop. It’s not a cage exactly. I have enough room to duck and run. But I’m not as terrified as I imagined I would be having a powerful man this close to me. Gideon never did this kind of thing. His terror was often in the anticipation that I had failed in the perfection he demanded. The consequences were rarely played out for the world to see. Torture isn’t palatable in the public domain, hence the secret fucked-up room. Gideon’s violence was hidden so well behind a mask even I, after months of sleeping in his bed, didn’t suspect it. I’ll never trust a man that hides himself again. I’m not sure I’ll ever trustanyman again.
Fox’s dark gaze drops to my chest. Fucking typical. I don’t know why I’m disappointed by his classic response to a woman in a revealing outfit.
“What do the birds mean?”
I blink and lean back, placing my hands on the counter behind me. Slapping my boss’s grandson or touching his chest like a horny teenager isn’t professional. My brain catches up to his question. “What?”
“The birds, Cleo. The tattoo under your left breast. It looks unfinished.”
The birds are a representation of my escape. Each month that goes by, I find a tattooist to add to the relatively simple design. There are currently five; each new one soars higher and opens its wings wider. I’ve not added another yet for this month. Gideon wouldn’t allow me to get a tattoo, so it’s a special fuck you to the man that tried to cage me.
“They’re birds. No exciting secret meaning.”
He hums low in his throat and licks his lips like he’s tastingmy words. “Another lie.”
“It’s not interesting,” I mutter as my gaze flicks to his plump lips. The bottom one is still swollen from my bite.
