Marble is the first thing I see when I open my eyes, a contrast to a room full of wood in every way.
White marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and expensive works of art hanging on the wall. There’s even an ornate fireplace sitting directly across from me.
The entire wall to my right is completely glass, showcasing a breathtaking city view of skyscrapers.
I’m in New York.
I’ve been to this city too many times not to recognize it instantly.
My head throbs and my mouth is dry, and there’s a strange metallic taste in the back of my throat. I work to push myself up to a sitting position. I’m in a cushy king-sized bed, surrounded by a soft, fluffy gold comforter and too many pillows to count.
Where am I?
The last thing I remember is sitting in Holland’s Escalade. He handed me some water to drink, and then everything just went black.
Did I fall asleep?
I swing my legs off the bed, and my eyes continue to take inventory of the room. It’s large and pristine with modern art and glass tables and an impressive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Everything is curated and expensive, and it looks exactly like what I’ve been raised around my entire life. It’s the opposite of the cabin. And nothing like Kane’s simple bedroom.
And it feels incredibly unsafe.
“Hello?” I call out. “Holland? Mom? Dad?”
My voice sounds tiny in the open space.
But it doesn’t take long before the door opens, and Damien Snow walks in. He’s wearing a perfect suit, his body showcased with perfect posture, and a perfectly controlled smile on his lips. He’s exactly as I expected he’d be—and somehow as opposite of perfect as opposite can be.
“Hello, Blair,” he greets.
“How did I get here?” I question. “I know Holland picked me up, but I don’t remember anything after that.”
“You fell asleep. He carried you in.”
My eyes go wide. “He carried me in?”
Damien nods, but I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “You need to take a shower. Get in some fresh clothes. I have everything you need.”
I glance down and quickly realize I’m still covered in dry mud. I’m still wearing Kane’s T-shirt and sweatpants. But I don’t give a shit about my clothes or a shower right now.
“Where are my parents?” I ask. “Holland said they were in New York. Are they staying here with you?”
“They’re fine,” he says smoothly. “They went back to Boston.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“They didn’t need to stay,” he replies. “Everything was handled.”
Handled?My head pulses harder.
“Where is Holland?”
“He left.”
I glance around the room again. The marble. The skyline. The art. It’s everything I’ve always known. Everything that’s supposed to mean stability.
And yet, all I feel right now is fear.
