“Yes,” I say.
There’s a long silence.
“How can I ever trust you?” he says finally.
In a burst of courage, I hold my hand out for him to take, palm up. He looks down at it, at my long nails done the way he likes.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I say.
He doesn’t speak. The clock over the bar keeps etching on. Finally, he clears his throat and spreads his knees, leaning back.
“You embarrassed me, Della,” he says in that refined Southern drawl. “Everyone knows my wife left me and our son.”
Rage bubbles. I never left my son. No, he was taken from me, a bartering chip in the fallout of our marriage. Taking a beat, I force myself to stay tearfully penitent.
“I know,” I whisper. “And I’m so sorry. I’ll make up for it.”
He clears his throat and lifts a hand to the bartender. I sit in silence, hands folded, while he gets a drink. It’s the same old, a whiskey from the top shelf, neat. When we’re alone again, he drags his empty stare back to me. This time, he lets himself look me over.
“It’s my Achilles Heel that you have a body like that,” he says. “It always has been.”
I can’t help but think about how Jensen wants my body as well, but never makes me feel used the way those words do. We fell into bed together the night we met. And yet, I never felt surface-deep. How does he do that?
I don’t answer Leland. He doesn’t want one.
The clock ticks. A few more customers come in and sit at the bar. Leland releases a breath.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he says finally.
That’s when I know I’m in. He’s folding faster than he did the first day we met at the diner, when his eyes followed every step I took. He’s the man who ruined my life, but I still feel a twinge of guilt.Deep down, I think…I hate to admit it, but I think Leland might love me.
His version of love is brittle, self-centered, but it exists.
“Please take me home,” I whisper.
He stands abruptly, holding out his hand. I drain my glass, swallowing the last of my pride with it, and let him guide me around the table. He doesn’t try to kiss me. I didn’t think he would, not with the way we left things, but it’s still an enormous relief. He pays the bill with his hand on my waist. It’s possessive but so cold. I might know his weakness, but I’ll have to move carefully to gain a fraction of his trust back.
We step out onto the street together. His car loiters at the curb. His driver appears, and I see the shock on his face for a second before it’s gone. He keeps a professional mask as Leland guides me into the back seat, settling in beside me and tapping the roof.
We drive but don’t speak.
I’m aware he’s there. How could I forget? But nothing is stronger than the realization he’s taking me back to the Caudill Mansion. Back to my son, the only person I’ve fully loved before Jensen. It hasn’t been that long, by calendar days, but every one of those days has felt like an eternity.
I bite the inside of my mouth and count the seconds. We’re turning onto the long driveway to the mansion when Leland clears his throat.
“There are conditions to this,” he says finally.
“I understand,” I whisper.
“I can’t trust you,” he says. “I have to be able to trust people on the inside. So, you’ll have to be monitored. No phone, no internet access, and you may not leave the house without me.”
Stomach aching, I nod.
We pull up outside the door. It’s like walking to the gates of hell but knowing the person I love the most is on the other side—confusing, terrifying, heartbreaking. The driver gets out, and there’s a second when we’re totally alone. Leland shifts, taking me by thejaw to turn my face up. In the half shadow, he sends a chill down my spine.
“You will do as you’re told, or you'll never see Landis again,” he says.
Anger floods my veins, reaching my eyes. I hate how he sees our son as his, not ours. I gave up my future, carried Landis in my body for nine months, almost died giving birth to him, and yet, he’s just a Caudill to Leland.
