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She nodded. “I think it’s fine now.”
He grinned, rising slowly from the marble. “You look stunning, Abby.”
It happened involuntarily, but she shivered. It was the good kind. It felt tingly and electric. She wanted to slap herself. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He was her warden, not some kind of prince.
“Thank you.” Her eyes darted away from him, but landed on Deacon strolling toward them.
He was drop-dead gorgeous in a fitted tux. She inhaled sharply as his eyes caught hers.
“You are sexy as sin, sweetheart.” He reached for her hand, drawing her wrist toward his face. She blushed when he turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her palm. She was worried this time they both saw her shiver.
“Shall we?” Cole offered his arm. Deacon was quick to follow on her other side.
Abby let them lead her to the dining room, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they eyed her as if they wished she was tonight’s dessert.
7
Abby
She didn’t know if she could eat. The only thing that made any sense was to douse the night in alcohol. Lots of it.
Cole sat on one side of her and Deacon on the other. They acted as if this a normal dinner. There was nothing normal about it. Abby was determined they wouldn’t forget it.
She wasn’t here voluntarily. Only moments ago she was scouting a way out of this palace prison. The hand-laid stone and the imported glass didn’t make it a home.
“Do you like your room?” Cole asked.
Abby pushed her salad around on her plate.
“It will be fine.”
Deacon’s eyes bore into hers. “Would you like to look at another suite? You could move. You can take your pick.”
“It won’t make a difference.”
“If you don’t like it, you can move, Abby.”
“Can I? Really? How generous of you both.” She glared at them. “Is sleeping in my own bed an option?”
“While you are staying here, this is your home. You can choose any room you like. There are several that might make you feel more comfortable.” Cole didn’t take her bait. He was calm. His voice almost too cool.
She dropped her fork on the plate with a clatter. “Nothing you can do other than letting me go with my full freedom is going to make me feel comfortable.”
Deacon pressed his lips together. “We can’t let you go, Abby.”
She reached for the wine, eager to feel the numbness take over her thoughts. “I figured. Why would you?”
“Exactly. Why would we?” Deacon seemed satisfied with his rhetorical response. There was something about him that exuded masculinity. He was broad chested. His shoulders expansive. The tuxedo seemed to stretch at the seams to accommodate him.
“I think if you give this situation time, you’ll enjoy living here. You can have anything you want.” Cole tried to make the situation better. His eyes were softer than Deacon’s. He had long lashes that were hard to ignore.
“The only thing I want is my freedom, but that’s not an option.”
“No. It’s not.” Deacon refilled her glass. “You might as well drink up and enjoy the night.”
“But not too much,” Cole warned. “We all have a full day at the office tomorrow.”
The office. Again, he tried to make something surreal sound normal.
