She considers this. “Can I pick what Angelina makes?”
“Yes.”
A pause. “Can I have dessert before dinner?”
“No.”
She shrugs. “It was worth trying.”
“It always is.”
She nods up at me. “Can Ellie come too?”
Rolan’s eyes swing to me. His gaze is level.
“If Miss Calloway would like to join us,” he says, “she’s welcome.”
Every instinct I have says no. Every rational cell in my brain screams that sitting across a dinner table from this man while his daughter eats between us is a terrible, catastrophic, category-five idea.
“I’d love to,” I say.
He nods and stands. Passing us in the corridor, he’s close enough that I catch his scent, clean and dark. The scent that my body now associates with kitchen counters and the wordplease.
I stand in the hallway with Anya’s hand back in mine and a dinner invitation I can’t cancel and the distinct certainty that tonight is going to be a problem.
My phone buzzes while I’m choosing what to wear.
I glance at the screen, hoping it’s Mare so she can help me out.
Unknown number
The blood in my veins goes cold.
I know what unknown numbers mean. Landon changes phones the way other people change socks, cycling throughburners, erasing trails, making himself untraceable while keeping me permanently traced.
I open the message.
Hey baby. Missed you. Swung by your place and you weren’t there. That’s not cool, Ellie. I travel for a few weeks, come back and my girl isn’t where she’s supposed to be? We need to talk. Soon. Clear your schedule.
P.S. This isn’t a suggestion.
I stare at the screen. The letters blur.
He went to my apartment, and I wasn’t there.
The last payment went through on time. I’ve been compliant. I’ve been quiet. I thought — stupidly, naively — that compliance would buy silence. That he’d take the money and leave me alone.
He was traveling. Busy. Occupied with the prostitutes he kept even when we were together; women he paid for with the money he squeezed from people like my father. He wasn’t quiet because he’d moved on. He was quiet because he was busy.
Now he’s back and wants a meeting.
I sit on the bed, holding the phone, and think it over.
I need to go.
The problem is that I can’t go. I can’t leave this property without Rolan’s permission.
I need to ask.
