I still keep my eyes on the rearview, watching for a tail.
After five minutes of tense, evasive driving, taking random turns, and going in the wrong direction, I finally slow down and take a breath.
“Are we okay?” Selene asks tensely from the back seat.
I glance in the rearview mirror, and my heart flips. Fuck. She’s so fucking beautiful.
“Yes, we’re okay,” I answer, struggling to drag my eyes off her.
“Um, you can drop us near the mall on Smith Street. Our Motel is just down the…”
“What?” I snap. “A motel? There is no way in hell that I am dropping you at a motel, Selene.”
“Simon, I want to take my children back home. Please drop me where I ask you to drop me.”
I scoff. “A motel is nothome. I’m taking you to my penthouse,” I inform her.
“Simon!” Her voice is tight and angry, but she’s trying to maintain control for the sake of the kids, who have clearly already gotten a fright after being whisked away from the park.
“It’s not a discussion, Selene.” My voice has a dangerous edge to it. There is anger lurking just beneath the surface of my words. She has kept my children from me for five years, and now she wants to run again. Does she think I’m stupid? Does she think she is the only one who has rights to them? They aremy children.
My fingers grip tightly around the steering wheel as I navigate us the rest of the way home in silence.
Selene doesn’t speak again, and when I glance at her in the mirror, she quickly looks away.
We park underground in my building. I own the whole thing. The penthouse is on the top two floors. It’s much too big for me, but I didn’t care when I bought it. All I cared about was that none of the rooms reminded me of her.
Not that it helped with the pain I was in.
And now you are bringing her here.
The elevator doors slide open, and I usher the three of them inside. Selene is standing rigid and straight, clinging to the kids. The boy is staring up at me, his eyes wide with wonder and questions. The little girl, Solenne, is chatting away about cookies she was promised.
The doors slide open right into the penthouse foyer.
“Where are we?” the boy asks.
“What’s your name?” I ask him.
“Arron,” he says, tilting his chin up, but gripping his mother’s hand tighter.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Arron. My name is Simon,” I hold my hand out to shake his. He looks confused for a moment before taking my hand. Solenne is less cautious. She grabs a handful of the side of my pants when I stand up and says, “I’m his sister.”
“Solenne,” I tell her. “I heard your mother say your name in the car. I’m Simon. It’s really nice to meet you, too,” I say, brushing my hand over her head.
“I’m older than Arron.”
“No, you not!” he argues.
“Yes, I am. I was born first!”
I grin as I usher them into the penthouse and watch their faces flare with surprise. “We are so high!” Solenne squeals, rushing towards the windows.
“Where are we?” Arron asks, narrowing his eyes and letting his gaze pierce right into my soul.
Selene places her hands on his shoulders, ready to answer the question, but I can’t allow it.
They’re here. I’ve been searching for her for five years, and she’s here.And she has my children.
