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I bite my lip as I sit down next to him, and Gunnar wraps his arm around me. We’re still undressed, and his touch sparks something inside me…but I tamp it down to listen.
“Talk to me,” I say softly, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. “How do you feel about it?”
Gunnar rakes his free hand through his hair. “I thought he was going to leave us alone,” he says. “I figured…I was never useful to him. But to be honest, I’m feeling a bit guilty.”
“Why?”
“Because me and Vance were raised together, and I’ve betrayed him.”
I take Gunnar’s hand. “Gunnar…he betrayed you, not the other way around. After we told him we didn’t want to stay in the safehouse, he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with us.”
He sighs again. I’ve been hearing a lot of that from him lately.
“But still…” he murmurs, looking down at our entwined hands. “I can’t help but feel like I’ve let him down. Like I’ve tarnished his name or something.”
I shake my head, leaning closer to him. “Gunnar, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’re living your life the way you choose, and that’s the most important thing. Plus, look at us—we’re stronger because of our decisions.”
He smiles faintly, and I lean up to brush my lips against his. “I love you,” I whisper into his ear, my breath warm and reassuring. “No matter what decisions we make, I’ll always be here for you. And you’ll always be there for me.”
Gunnar nods, a small smile dancing on his lips. “I love you too, Ais,” he says softly, tracing a finger over my knee.
I can feel the conversation coming to an end, and I’m sure we’re going to end up in bed again soon…so I need to get my thoughts out.
“Just be careful,” I whisper. “I don’t trust him.”
“I don’t either,” he says. “But I know that if anything happens to me, you and Oberon will come and find me.”
Chapter five
Gunnar
Ihead to Vance’s for dinner that night, tension roiling in my gut over what he could possibly want from me. I don’t know exactly what he wants here—why he sounds scared—but I agreed because I’d never really heard him talk that way.
And now I’m here.
Back amongst the marble columns, the fine rugs, expensive artwork. Huxley greets me at the door with a kind smile, ushering me inside and through the front room.
“Mr. Finch,” he says. “It’s been a while. I do hope you and Miss Faye are well?”
“You can call me Gunnar, Huxley,” I say. “I’m not like Vance.”
“You’re more like him than you think,” Huxley replies as we walk down a well-appointed marble hallway, my boots on a plush red rug that probably cost Vance a fortune. “He’s already waiting in the dining room; you can make your way in.”
I’m guided into the dining room the same way I used to be when we were prisoners here. I feel out of place in my street clothes, but Vance doesn’t seem to care; he’s already sitting at the table, smiling as if he hasn’t ignored us the past few weeks.
“Sit.” Vance says, clasping his hands. “I had the staff whip up fettuccine alfredo—my mother’s old recipe—and Huxley brought out a fine vintage from down in the cellar.”
I take an uneasy seat at the other end of the table, where Ais always used to sit when we were kept here like Vance’s dolls. The food is already dished out, a glass of wine poured. The ruby red wine casts a deep red glow on the table beneath, part of it tinting my hand the same color as fresh blood.
“What do you want, Vance?” I ask.
He cocks an eyebrow. “I wanted to catch up.”
“With me?” I bark out a harsh laugh. “You don’t give a shit about me and we both know it.”
His reaction…hell, I don’t even know how to describe it. I think he’s hurt, but it’s hard to tell; what I see is anger, confusion, and…something.
I get this feeling he’s fucking with me.
