Her eyes burn into the side of my face as she tries to process what I’ve just said. “I don’t understand,” she whispers. “I haven’t seen you in years.”
I sigh, glancing into the rearview mirror to ensure we’re not being followed before flicking a look across the car. “No, Hannah. You haven’t seen me. But I’ve seen you plenty.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HANNAH
I’m starting to think this is a dream because that’s the only thing that makes sense.
The alternative, that my ex-stepfather, who I thought left me high and dry like everyone else in my life has, has been keeping tabs on me for the last few years and is moving me into his home without any consultation or care for my opinion, is utterly insane.
And yet, no matter how hard I pinch my thigh, I’m not waking up.
Rowan guides the car around a bend before turning into a concealed driveway I would have missed if I weren’t looking for it.
We pass through an automated gate that makes me swallow heavily. It’s so similar to the one at my grandfather’s home, the one that kept me prisoner for so many years.
Is that what Rowan intends to do?
I press my eyes closed and drag a deep breath into my lungs.
He wouldn’t do something like that.
The man I remember was nothing but kind to me.
Until he left, I remind myself.
Asher flits into my mind, and my chest tightens. I need to let him know where I am, and I really need to apologize for going on a date with another man without telling him.
He pulls into the garage but doesn’t immediately move to get out of the car. There’s a tension burning between us, one that has been constant since those words passed his lips.
“No, Hannah. You haven’t seen me. But I’ve seen you plenty.”
His words have played over and over like a broken record, each time making less sense than the last. Maybe it’s a mixture of not having eaten since Asher delivered my egg bites this morning and the adrenaline from how Trent treated me. Perhaps everything will make more sense once I’ve eaten and my fight-or-flight instincts are no longer firing.
A shiver moves through my body, causing Rowan’s dark eyes to flick up to mine. He watches me for a beat before moving into motion. “Let’s get you inside.”
He’s out of the car before I can ask to be taken back to my apartment again, leaving me with no choice but to follow him.
Maybe I’ll stay here tonight and then head home early tomorrow morning. It’s the weekend, so I don’t have any client meetings, but I do need to get some work done to get ahead for next week.
Owning your own business means you never get a day off, but that works for me.
I need to keep my mind busy at all times.
We step into the house, and I stop dead in my tracks.
The mix of dark stone and wood is practically what makes up my entire Pinterest feed, and it looks just as beautiful in real life as I’ve always imagined it would.
The expansive open space feels never-ending, with a kitchen in the far corner that looks big enough for an entire team ofchefs, a living room with a huge sectional, and through a double door, I peek at what appears to be a library.
“I’ll show you to the guest room where you can get more comfortable while I make you something to eat,” Rowan says, stepping toward the grand staircase on our left.
I trail after him, too awestruck by the house to argue.
We walk down a long hallway, and I can’t help but peek into every room we pass. This place is insane and a far cry from my grandfather’s mansion.
From the outside, there are certain similarities, but after being inside for just a few moments, there’s one stark difference. It’s warm where the Malone estate is cold. This feels like a home, while that mansion was always a prison.
