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My hand stops over my plate.
“For how long?” I ask too quickly. I hear the disappointment in my tone, and so does he.
“A few days. Some business requires my attention.”
I set the piece of croissant down.
A few days shouldn’t matter. At the beginning, I would have given anything to be left alone. I used to dread his visits, counting the minutes until he went away.
I look down at my coffee. Without him, there will be meals delivered by men who barely speak to me. Hours spent rereading the same page because I can’t bring myself to concentrate. Nights listening to footsteps that pass my door.
I could try and get a phone. Ask to go outside. Use his absence to try the window again, or work out which guard might be persuaded to help me.
Instead, I’m trying to work out how I will survive his absence.
Jax steps closer and places a finger beneath my chin.
I could pull away. I don’t.
He lifts my face and studies me.
“Will you miss me?”
My throat tightens.
He’s giving me a chance to admit it. To say aloud what he must already suspect every time I turn toward him in bed.
If I say yes, I’ll have to live with having told him.
If I say no, he’ll smile.
I keep quiet.
His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth. “I think you will miss me,” he murmurs, smiling.
There it is. The smile I was trying to avoid.
I want to tell him he’s wrong. That I’m frightened of being left here with his men, that I need him because he’s the only person who can decide what happens to me.
It would be true.
It wouldn’t be the whole truth.
He bends and kisses my forehead.
I close my eyes before his lips touch me.
“I’ll bring you a gift,” he says. I don’t want another gift. I want him to tell me when he’ll be back. “Be good while I’m gone, little bird.” He releases my chin and walks toward the door.
I turn in my chair, watching him go. For one humiliating moment, I nearly call him back.
The door closes.
The lock turns.
I stay facing it until I hear his footsteps fade.
My coffee is still hot. I press my fingers to my forehead, then lower my head into my hands.