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“I can’t.” I shook my head.
I wouldn’t allow myself glimmers of light like that. It would only make the devastation worse when I had to succumb to the life my father chose for me. Some gangly man with bad breath. I’d started having panic attacks in the middle of the night, worried about who it was going to be. The move to a new city meant my father was father would be shopping around soon.
“It could be that freedom we talked about.” He dangled it in front of me.
“This doesn’t freak you out? The idea that we barely know each other and we’re just going to hop on a plane to wherever.”
“Well, you get to decide the wherever.”
I scowled. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. It doesn’t have to mean anything other than freedom, Kennedy.”
“Everything okay?” Kimble appeared next to us. Shit. He scared me.
“Yes.” I looked up at him.
“We’re having dinner.” Knight’s jaw clenched.
“But it is getting late. I think I’m ready to go home. Our meeting is over. Thank you for the evening.”
I caught Knight’s expression. I would never be free. I would never be able to escape. The sooner he realized that, the sooner he could move on. He needed to stop having hope.
Hope would only get us killed.
8
Knight
A week passed. Kennedy didn’t answer her phone. Neither calls nor texts. She didn’t respond to the flowers I sent to her house, or the bottle of champagne. I double checked with the florist to make sure the address was correct.
I felt like a caged lion shut up in my apartment. I paced. I drank. On occasion I sat in on meetings with my father. I listened to Seraphina complain about Brandon.
But nothing changed the fact that all I wanted was to see Kennedy. There had to be a way out. I searched the drawers in my apartment for a pack of cigarettes I’d hidden, but there were none. Fuck. I had given them up easily, but I couldn’t give up her.
I grabbed the keys to my car and hopped behind the wheel. I drove until I was past the garden district. I never paid attention to these houses before, but as I grew closer to Lucien Martin’s compound, I began to notice the old world stamp on the buildings. Classic architecture. Grand porticos and columns. Massive gardens and brick walls.
After a few minutes I was buzzed in. The iron gate retracted, and I drove through the entryway, circling the front of the house. I knocked on the front door until a housekeeper opened the door.
“Yes?” She eyed me.
“I’m here to see Kennedy,” I explained. “Is she home?”
“Miss Martin is out back in the courtyard. You can wait—” I didn’t let the woman finish the sentence before I brushed past her and marched in the direction of the back of the house.
I slid open a glass door and spotted Kennedy lounging by the pool.
“And I thought you were busy.” I stood next to her.
She slid her sunglasses down her nose. “How did you get in here?”
“Front door.”
“No, I mean past Kimble and Joseph.”
I sat on the lounge chair next to her. “I didn’t see them. Why haven’t you answered your phone?” I asked.
The beads of perspiration rolled between her breasts. Damn. She looked incredible in her bikini. She pushed forward in her seat.
