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The line goes dead before I can protest, casting Michael and I in silence.
He takes the phone when I offer it to him and immediately sets to typing, his fingers moving quickly over the screen and then passes it quickly back.
Wes is gone?
I’m clenching my jaw so tight it’s a wonder that my teeth don’t shatter. I nod curtly, so Michael types out another message.
I suggested Holland. Didn’t know he was going to pull this.
“Wes slit your throat.” I remind him, just in case he’s forgotten. “He put you here.”
Michael glances around the room, almost like he’s looking for Wes himself, and then types again.
I would never betray you unless it was to kill him myself.
“Time will tell.” I shrug, stepping back as the door opens and a chipper nurse walks through, smiling brightly.
“Oh. You’ve got a visitor, today!” She says pleasantly.
This is the same hospital Claire was brought to when we were at the funeral. Dimitri brought Michael here. Did they come up with this plan together? Did they know that Holland was going to take advantage of my desperation?
“I was just leaving.” I tell her. “But you may need to give him an enema.”
The nurse frowns, glancing at Michael, who shakes his head adamantly. “Why?”
“Because,” I tell her, “I’m pretty sure he’s full of shit.”
Chapter forty-three
Claire
Rhea’s itinerary for our trip kind of went to hell in a handbasket after her pseudo-uncle kidnapped me and then everything spiraled out of control. We haven’t had much time to spend together, honestly, with everything else that we’ve had to contend with, so when she comes up with a plan for the day, I agree without knowing what it is I’m consenting to. Usually that would be a somewhat dangerous game, but I’m so desperate to get a sense of normalcy in my life that I don’t even care what she has planned.
Her hand is on the doorknob and the keys to one of the cars are in her hand when Dimitri comes from nowhere, spinning her around so fast her hair nearly whips me in the face. “No.” Dimitri says. Just one word, and I feel scolded… and annoyed.
Rhea is a touch more than that. Her eyes narrow on him even as fire flashes there. “No?”
“No one leaves the house today.” He says, taking advantage of her distractedness to slide himself between us and the front door.
“What?” I ask, at the same time Rhea asks, “why?”
“Remy’s instruction.” Dimitri folds his arms over his broad chest, like that’s supposed to tell us he’s serious or something.
Rhea studies him openly, scrutinizing every inch of his face and then her gaze turns languid as it trails further down his body. I notice the slight reddening of her cheeks—it’s hard to see with her golden complexion, but it’s there.
Rhea Boudreaux is blushing over a man.
She really does have a problem.
“I don’t care what Remy wants.” I say, hoping Dimitri will relay that to his employer exactly. My headstrong best friend is apparently a wilting flower in the presence of this man. Even though I don’t want to think about it, I can’t help but wonder what the hell happened between them that turned her into someone who takes no for an answer.
“He’s not the boss of us.” Rhea chimes in, though her voice lacks the usual amount of sass.
“No.” Dimitri agrees. “But he’s my boss and he told me no one gets in or out today. So, I will stop you, no matter what it takes.”
In my peripheral vision I see Rhea bite her lip, looking very much like she wants to tempt him just to see how far he’ll go to stop her. “Where is he?” I demand, ready to take the matter up with him myself. As grateful as I am for the protection he’s offered me, I never signed up to be his prisoner. Hell, I’m not even his possession. We’ve been fucking around, sure. A= k nd he’s made me feel more pleasure in the last week than I’ve felt in my twenty years before, but we explicitly agreed upon terms that left no room for confusion. So, what makes him think he can control when or where I go?
“Come on,” Rhea says, nodding her head toward the patio. I’m not sure if she’s backing down or if she plans to sneak out the back door, but I follow her without argument.
