Then again, that's what this house arrest basically is.
"Speaking of...I have some music theory, and I need to see what work I have to do for the torturers."
"Thetutors?"
"That's what I said. I'll be in the kitchen. Can we have Indian tonight?"
"Sure. I'll have some sent. Let Con get it."
She swishes out of the room, and I pick up the laptop I got yesterday from the stupid startup I temporarily bought.
I head up the stairs, letting myself into the suite.
"Lola?"
She's in the little living room off the bedroom that can be used as a study, TV room, or exercise room. I've got a Peloton in there. And considering how much space there is, the room has a whole sitting area, too.
Lola's holding a book, but unfortunately, it doesn't look smutty, and I remind myself to hide the one I bought to peek at what she's into in case we ever reach the point she's in my room.
I don't know what this is in me for her. But I don't want to let her go, and not just because it's my own self-appointed job to watch over her.
Yeah, she's in my heart, but?—
I can't go there right now.
"What are you reading?" I ask.
She peeks at the spine. "William Gibson. Neuromancer. You really like hacking stuff."
"One of my trades." This is going better than I thought, so I take a step closer. "Can we talk?"
"No. I don't want to talk. I don't want to be locked up either. Even if this is the fanciest prison I've ever seen, it's still a prison."
"Protection."
"Potato, potahto," she mutters. "I want to do something other than sit on my ass. I'm?—"
"You're what?" I zero in on that because there's something in her tone that pricks against my skin.
"Bored."
Then I take her in.
She's in her work clothes. They're a little crumpled because, last night, Lyndall did laundry. I have a top-line washer and dryer, and I almost never use it. Usually, I have my shit picked up, washed, folded, and brought back.
I put down the laptop.
It's the work one, so I figured she could use it to build a CV or something. It's not online. I can't have her using the internet in here. Not yet. Not at her skill level.
She would never get through any firewalls I've got set up, and the server down in the basement is its own beast. But stranger things could happen.
"If you want to dress for work, then work."
I set up the computer and make sure she can reach the work server only. The internet beyond is still cut off.
Then, using my phone, I send work through to her.
The ding of her getting mail makes Lola's head rise, and her eyes narrow as they spark.
