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But what continued to baffle investigators was their inability to find any connection between Astor and the man who’d attacked me, Glen Roy.
So far, they appeared to be two isolated, unconnected events.
Although my gut said otherwise.
“I’ve been telling you for years, Gin. You need to be more careful,” Liam admonished as we walked into the formal living area.
A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. The large windows overlooked a stunning swimming pool, a pristine lawn just beyond it, all of it with a magnificent view of the ocean in the distance.
“I’mfine, Liam.”
“This time. But what happens the next time someone tries something like this?”
With an exaggerated roll of my eyes, I pushed away from him and made my way toward the kitchen. “You’re overreacting.”
A woman in a maid’s uniform approached, handing me a steaming mug. “Coffee, Ms. Prescott?”
I had no doubt Liam had already told her how I took my coffee.
“Thank you.” I took the mug from her, albeit reluctantly. I didn’t need someone waiting on me, making my coffee. I could do that myself.
“I think you should move in here,” Liam announced once we were alone.
I gave him a warning glare from over my coffee mug.
“I’mnotmoving in with you, Liam. The only reason I agreed to stay here today is because the doc wouldn’t discharge me unless someone agreed to keep an eye on me until tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, Melanie had to get back to LA for an event tonight. Otherwise, I would have just had her stay with me.”
“Stop being so damn stubborn, Gin. You were fucking attacked last night.”
“I know! I was there!” I shot back, pushing down the fear snaking up my spine from the memory of what happened. Whatcouldhave happened if Gideon hadn’t been in the right place at the right time.
“Look around you.” He gestured at his luxurious home. “This place has everything you need. A gorgeous view. A pool. There’s even a workout room. It’s only a ten-minute drive to the beach. There’s much more space than in that tiny townhouse you’re living in now.”
“I like my townhouse. It has everything I need. I’m just one person.”
“Your mom thinks it’s a good idea, too,” he added somewhat guardedly.
“You talked to my mother about this?” I slammed my mug onto the kitchen island.
“Of course, I did. She cares about you. Wants you to be safe. And you’ll be safe here with round-the-clock security.”
My blood boiling, I spun from him and stomped farther into the kitchen, flinging open various cabinets.
“What are you looking for?”
“Flour. Vanilla. Sugar.” I threw up my hands in irritation. “Shit to bake with.”
“What are you in the mood for? I’ll have Elena make whatever you want.”
I faced him and glowered, my annoyance growing by the second. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, William Joseph Pierce, you’ll let me bake.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the look I gave him or the fact I used his full name that made him back off. Thankfully, he got the hint, giving me space as I carried a bunch of ingredients from the pantry and set them on the kitchen island. Opening one of the oversized drawers, I found a bunch of mixing bowls, along with spatulas of various sizes.
Most people worked out when they were stressed. Or had a drink.
I baked. It was something I’d picked up from my mother. Whenever I’d had a bad day, she dragged me into the kitchen and we baked together. Something about the precise measurements needed helped me focus on something else.
Plus, the end result was always delicious.
