“I’ll be good now.”
Tipping her chin, I went to kiss her, forgetting myself, then pulled back before our lips touched—before I’d given her any part of me she didn’t deserve.
Turning sharply, I headed for the exit, hating this distasteful glimpse of affection I had to shake.
Fuck. Anya had manipulated me. She knew how to be equally cruel.
She was a snake, capable of slithering up and biting me.
But then another thought hit me. I could turn her plan around on her.
Use her lust. Lure her in.
Bend her to my will.
And she would give me what I wanted.
Her father.
Anya
Cassius was walking out. Leaving me with the fallout of these swirling emotions.
Leaving nothing but the sound of rain.
My tears spilled.
Not rain. The shower. A run-down bathroom. In a deserted house. In the middle of nowhere.
And I’m fine.
Just fine.
The towel he’d wrapped around me dropping like it was too much to bear—because he’d been the one to wrap me in it. Showing me the kind of affection I’d craved all my life.
Stepping over the towel that had pooled around my ankles. I was unsteady on bare feet and staggered back.
My body hit the tile and caused a shudder. Water gushed over me again. Eyelashes blinking through droplets as the empty room came back into focus.
Cassius had left me here.
The stark realization that everything that had gone on before hadn’t been normal. This, being kept prisoner, paled in comparison to the life I’d come from. What did that say about me?
Sliding down the wall, I hugged my knees and replayed the last few minutes. I’d looked into Cassius’s soul and seen unbound pain beyond that steely glare. Minutes ago, he’d been on the edge. Whatever he’d intended to do—something bad—he’d changed his mind.
After admitting to him that I’d never been hugged, he’d turned away sharply, not speaking another word, and left.
Images of my past came back into focus, bringing that familiar futility. Because I was finding out things about my father that made all of this make sense. And I didn’t want it to make sense.
I’d never found peace. Never once discovered a sense of balance at home. Never found love in any of its forms. I’d given up on happiness. It had never come my way. It was merely acceptance that it wasn’t for me. A surrendering of sorts. Letting the days slip by. I’d learned that if I didn’t expect too much, it was easier.
After twenty minutes, the water ran cold and chilled my flesh; goosebumps kissed my skin.
Pushing to my feet and raising my chin high, I knew none of this reflected who or what I was. All that had gone before had happened to me and not because of me.
I refused to end up broken.
Refused to give up hope of ever getting out of here.
Looking over at where my clothes lay drenched, I realized I had made another mistake in a long line of them. Water from the shower had snaked toward my clothes and underwear, and they were useless to wear.
Chilled to the bone, I returned to where the towel had fallen and wrapped it around my body. It smelled a little musty, but at least it was clean.
I left my clothes where they lay and walked the length of the shower, out along the narrow hallway, and headed off to find something dry to wear.
Squaring my shoulders, I prepared myself to face off with Cassius if he scolded me for exploring.
He had sent me to my room, but I wasn’t ready to go there yet.
Attempting to leave this house again was clearly off the table.
Staying here and persuading Cassius that I wasn’t his enemy was my only option. I was determined for it to be on my terms.
Once I saw a member of staff, I’d befriend them. Then I’d give them a message to take to the outside world. Maybe they’d feel bad for me.
Making my way up the staircase. Following the turn of the hallway, glancing inside room after room and finding them all empty until. . .
I found his.
This was not what I’d imagined.
The room was simple enough with framed photos of New Orleans on the walls, from a nighttime shot of the French Quarter to another of the ceiling of the Orpheum Theater. Though there wasn’t a single shot with a person in them.
On his bedside table, he had an interesting selection of books. The kind I might want to read. Well, before I knew he liked them, that is. A football rested on a shelf, and it looked like one of the players had signed it in gold ink along the middle.
A tall lamp had been left on—maybe that meant he was forgetful? And there they were, photos of his parents and one of a pretty woman beside them. She had the same eyes as Cassius and the way she stood next to him, casually and with a big, relaxed smile, made me think he had a sister. These few snapshots of his life were more clues to add to the others.
Stepping into his closet and running my hand along his shirts and pants, my hand swept over the material as if that alone would reveal more of who this man was.
Discarding that musty towel, leaving it where it fell, I pulled a shirt off a hanger and slid into it. Buttoning it up and lifting the sleeve to my nose to take a sniff—it smelled fresh. Moving on to his chest of drawers and finding a pair of boxer shorts and sliding into them. It would do for now. I’d always walked around home barefoot—something my father scolded me for—so it wasn’t too uncomfortable to walk around without shoes here. Though when I explored some more, I found a pair of socks in another drawer, so I pulled a pair on. They didn’t fit right, but if I dragged them all the way up, they’d do. At some point, I’d ask Cassius for clothes and shoes.
Inside his bathroom, I towel dried my hair. Sliding his comb through my knotted locks to even them out; having not used shampoo, my hair felt wiry. A small leaf came loose in my hand to remind me I’d run through woods. I let it flitter to the ground.
A brand-new toothbrush sat in his medicine cabinet. I used it and placed it back where I’d found it.
I ambled off to look for a phone, still unsure where I was exactly, but maybe if I was able to hunt down a landline and call my father’s number, it could be traced? Mom and Dad would be frantic. I knew they’d be doing everything in their power to get me home. Maybe this might even make them realize how much they’d missed me.
Running my hand along the stone wall, I felt the past in this house, as though those who once lived and died here haunted its hallways. This city was known for its history, and it made me wonder about this house, too.
Plants hung here and there, and more plants rose high in regal pots to brighten the interior. Continuing on, I was careful to walk on the stone floor and not slip.
I halted abruptly.
The twang of strings came from down the hallway. The strum of uneven notes. I could keep on going but avoiding the inevitable would just delay it. I’d have to face off with Cassius at some point. If it was even him.
Nudging the door open, I peeked inside.
It was Cassius, and he sat across the vast space in an alcove, holding a guitar. His fingers were trailing along the strings. His focus on the window and what lay beyond—a well-tended garden. As I stepped in farther, I could see what looked like a giant hedged maze. Someone took care of all this land. Someone who might be able to get a message out for me.
The notes stopped, and long fingers paused on guitar strings. He’d sensed me. Or maybe heard my footsteps.