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Too bad by the time I come to my senses, we’re already inside Vincent’s town car, pulling away.
Vincent startles me when his hand slithers up my thigh. He halts midway and squeezes. My stomach churns, and I fight not to pull away from his touch. But just as fast as it came, his hand is gone. He captures my wrist, inspecting the bandage.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing. I fell.”
Seconds tick by in uncomfortable silence before he replies. “You should be more careful.” His beady eyes unsettle me. I smile overly wide and turn to the window to gather myself. Breathe, Addy. You can do this. Play nice, and before too long, you’ll be in the safety of Logan’s home—
“Uh, where are we going? Don’t we want to get on the highway toward the—”
“We’re making a stop at my home.”
“Oh yeah?” I choke on my own saliva.
“As I said before. Some unexpected business needs to be taken care of.”
Why do I feel like there’s a hidden message behind his unnerving words? I force a strained smile, keeping my eyes trained out the window. “Great. Fantastic. Okay then.” Vincent takes a call, and my ears perk, trying to eavesdrop.
“What time? Good… No, keep them there. And the second? Make the same adjustments. Yes. Have him meet us at the house. Set it up. Make sure. Yes. As we discussed.” He hangs up, and I bite down on my tongue to stop the questions that want to burst from my mouth. Keep who there? What adjustments? What does he mean by the second? He’s talking in code, clearly trying to conceal the information from me.
We head up a long driveway until a huge, luxurious house comes into view. Parking in front, a man comes forward and opens my door. “Miss.” He steps aside to allow me to exit the vehicle. Vincent’s hand grazes my lower back, and he escorts me up the ridiculous number of stairs to his front door. A butler stands in the doorway, waving his hand out for me to go in first. I’m glad my back is to him, so he doesn’t notice my growing nerves. I survey my surroundings. The place is immaculate. Freshly polished marble flooring. Bronze statues lining the open foyer. Definitely fit for a king. I walk further in when a beefy goon appears from a hidden hallway to the left and steps in front of me. His meaty hands reach forward, and I jump back, slapping him away. “Whoa, watch it, Andre the Giant!” I snap.
“It’s customary for anyone who enters my home to be properly searched. You’re not hiding anything I should know about, are you?”
My mouth parts and I tense as my head whips to Vincent. It’s impressive how fast my palms start to sweat. I’m not carrying any weapons, but I sure do have a tracker stashed in my bra. He wouldn’t check there…would he? “I have nothing to hide. Search away.” Giving Vincent my back, I raise my arms and allow his goon to pat me down while I glare at him. If he gets the least bit freaky, I’ll kick him in the balls. His hands skate down my sides, then slice between my breasts. It’s not until he steps away that I finally breathe again.
“She’s clean.”
“Yeah, I could have told you that before you manhandled me. Perv,” I hiss at him.
Vincent takes my hand, as if it’s natural for us to be connected, and guides me down a long, marble hallway. I fight not to tug my hand away, knowing I need to buy Logan time. If Vincent senses my discomfort, he doesn’t seem disturbed by it. The farther we walk, the heavier the pit in my stomach becomes. Adjusting my focus away from my pending heart attack, I take in the extravagant paintings on the wall. My brows skyrocket into my hairline when I notice the famous The Last Supper. “That’s not real, is it?” Vincent doesn’t answer me with words, just his devilish smile.
We continue to walk. The hallway finally opens into a gigantic atrium, the ceiling made of stained glass. Beautiful, exotic flowers surround the open area, with a small pond in the center. Off to one side is a bridge leading to the middle of the pond where a wooden table sits. “I hope this is suitable for you. I figured this would be the perfect place for your surprise.”
“Surprise?” I trip over my next step, and Vincent pulls me along, leading us across the bridge while I stare down at the colossal fish swimming in the pond.
“Do you enjoy koi fish?”
“Huh?”
“Koi fish. They are a prized fish breed. In some countries, they’re worth millions.”
I look down again. “Oh…um, they look like overgrown goldfish to me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my Atticus. The Japanese take koi breeding very seriously. See, look at that one right there.” He points to one on my right. “The red patches on his back? I found him in the Netherlands. He’s a very rare breed. His reddish-orange pattern represents joy and purity.”
