It was recorded from a camera outside a restaurant. Through the window, I can see her seated at a table, though only a portion of her face is visible. I zoom in on her face the moment she glances toward the window.
She looks... different.
I call Robin.
“Get me the footage from inside the restaurant.”
“It’s a Bennett-owned restaurant.”
Which means we can’t obtain interior footage.
I end the call and stare at the frozen image on my screen. She must be wearing makeup, something that changes her features, makes her look almost like a stranger. Though there’s no major difference, really.
I resume the video and watch her interact with a curly-haired blond man. The interaction appears friendly.
I swipe to the next file. A photo of her in a car with him, both wearing sunglasses. Also taken from a street camera. Grainy. Indistinct. It’s impossible to tell from this alone what they were to each other.
I call Robin again.
“I need everything on this man. His relationships, his history, his reputation. And find out why the marriage was called off.”
“Yes, boss.”
I stare into the distance, jaw tight.
So. She does have someone.
My chest feels caged.
Chapter 11
Elowen
Finally, I find the cocoa powder. I let out a long breath.I’d nearly given up hope of finding it. Of having my cocoa honey milk, my ritual for the first day of my cycle.
I set it on the counter and open the fridge for the milk. They stock this kitchen daily, even though I’ve never once seen the tyrant actually cook here.
I pour two cups of milk into a small pot and return the rest to the fridge. I set the pot on the stove and stare atthe control panel.
I look up at the sound of footsteps. A moment later, he appears. He stops short when he notices me.
Before he can ask the obvious question—what are you doing here—I answer.
“I’m making cocoa honey milk.”
He glances at the ingredients scattered across the counter, then dismisses me and starts toward his room.
“Can you help me?” I call out.
He turns.
I gesture at the stove. “Show me how to work this.”
He walks into the kitchen and rounds the counter. I step aside. He lights the burner and moves to leave, but I stop him again.
“Would you like some?”
Yes, I’m a very good person, offering hot milk to my captor. Don’t ask me why—I don’t know either.
