Page 28
He smiles. Not nicely. “You know what your problem is, Elle?”
I don't answer. His fingers close around my wrist.
“Evan, let go,” I say.
“You always think you're smarter than everybody else.”
“Let go of me.”
“I’m talking to you.” His grip tightens.
Pain shoots through my wrist. I jerk away. “Stop.”
He reaches for me again. I flinch—
And wake up screaming.
I don't know where I am.
White ceiling. Bright light. Something beeping.
My heart is slamming so violently against my ribs that for one wild second I think the car has hit me again. Then I realize there’s a man inches from my face.
I scream again.
He doesn't move. Which somehow makes it worse.
“What the fuck?” I gasp as I scramble backward. Pain immediately tears through my hip. I cry out and stop.
The man straightens. “You were flinching,” he says.
His voice. I know that voice. Low, deep, disturbingly calm.
My eyes focus.
Oh. Him. Anya's father.
The man from the mansion.
He is standing beside the hospital bed, close enough I can see details I missed before my brain decided consciousness was optional.
And unfortunately, there are quite a lot of details.
He’s older than me by a significant margin, somewhere around forty, maybe a little past it, and the silver at his temples is much more noticeable this close. His hair is otherwise almost black, thick and brushed neatly back from his forehead, although one strand has fallen slightly out of place near his temple.
It should make him look less severe. It doesn't.
His face is all hard angles and controlled expression, a strong jaw shadowed faintly with dark stubble, straight nose, high cheekbones, and a mouth that looks naturally stern even when he isn't speaking.
Then there are his eyes.
Gray. Not soft gray. Winter-sky gray.
The kind of eyes that make you feel as though someone has already reached a conclusion about you and is merely waiting to see if you're clever enough to figure out what it is.
He’s wearing a black shirt now instead of the suit jacket I vaguely remember, the sleeves pushed back just enough to expose strong forearms and an expensive watch.
His shoulders are ridiculous. He’s built like a freaking boulder, at least that’s my first thought.
