My stomach drops.
Everyone in my earpiece says comforting, encouraging words. They remind me to stay calm, to not read into it.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
I’m fifteen again.
He smells stale, like heavy cologne and something sour. I didn’t know I’d be alone with him. I thought Sophie would be here. I thought…
His hand is too close; his voice is too low. He’s saying things I don’t understand yet—not fully—but they make my skin crawl.
“You’re mature for your age,” he says with a smile, like his compliment is the greatest gift.
I don’t respond. I can’t speak.
“I like your name, Catherine. It suits you. Timeless and royal.”
Dad’s best friend doesn’t even know he picked my name for that very reason. Gross.
None of Dad’s friends know about us—not our names and not that we hideout in the bunker during their parties.
It’s for our safety, our dad says.
Safety from who?
His best fucking friend?
I wonder if Sophie could hear me if I call her name. Where did she go?
It’s my fault for being so eager and coming in here. I should have known better than to trust her.
“Your hair is so pretty. Blondes have more fun, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows as he pulls at a lock of my hair. I know he wants me to interact with him, be charming, but I am frozen.
Tears prick my eyes.
Maybe Sophie will be back any moment. Lunch had been normal—boring, but nothing sinister.
Now this old man is sitting next to me…flirting. He’s way older than dad. Too old to think I could want?—
“Sophie told me you wanted to give me a tour of the estate,” he says.
I blink my eyes a few times. In a small voice, I ask, “Haven’t you been here before? Sophie said you and D—” I stumble. “Jared are, like, best friends, right?”
Sophie told me to refer to Dad as Jared. I almost forgot. But maybe if he knows I know Jared, he will stop. Or maybe I should tell him Jared is my dad, even if that bitch Sophie told me not to. Maybe that will protect me.
“Oh, I’ve been to some parties here, of course, but this estate is so big, I’m sure there are rooms I haven’t seen.” He’s leaned in closer, but there is no room for me to lean back any more than I already am.
“Let’s go, pretty girl, I want to see what you have to show me.” He grips my arm to rise with him from the table. His hold is tight enough to keep me next to him as we walk out of the dining room and?—
“Pippa?” Enzo’s voice over the comms snaps me back.
Troy’s eyes have gone wider, but not with confusion or alarm, with curiosity. “It’s your eyes,” he says. “I swear I know you.”
The room tilts.
“Stay with us,” Hudson says. “You’re safe. You’re in control.”
I pull in a breath and lower my chin just slightly. When I speak, my voice is softer. Raspy. Practiced. “No, sir. We haven’t met.” I let a hint of awe creep in. “I’m sorry I’m so flustered. It’s just an honor to finally meet you, sir.”
