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He speaks to Mick. “Take her away.” He walks down the hallway as if I’m forgotten.
I can’t relax, but the oxygen Roman sucks out of a room flows back in. Mick leads me around the back of the elegant staircase that’s a showpiece as much as it’s useful.
I pause when he starts down the stairs. After Roman proposed and I said yes, he converted his gym to an in-home studio. It wasn’t long before I quit using it. I craved the freedom my own studio gave me rather than being surrounded by the terrible decision I’d made. But there’s nothing else in the lowest level of the house other than my studio, the attached bathroom and locker room, the laundry, and the maintenance rooms for the house and pool.
He prepared my room. Does he mean the studio?
Mick nudges me but I refuse to move. There’s no kindness in his eyes when he says, “There are only two ways this can play out and they both end in me getting you to your room. It’s up to you how you want to get there.”
I swallow my fear. Message received. If I fight, he’ll overpower me. “I’m a prisoner,” I say woodenly.
“He wants you safe.”
His answer is just as empty, and my response is automatic. “From what?”
I don’t expect to see pity in his gaze, but the way he’s looking at me is how animal control must view their catches. They hate to toss them into cages, but it’s the requirement of the job.
I can’t fight Mick. I’m not sure whether I can outrun him. He’s a guy who’d blend in anywhere, but he and his dad bod could still run me down. And I haven’t forgotten the gun tucked into his holster.
I start down the stairs, my hands trembling. The great unknown looms below me. What’s going to happen to me? I want to ask what happened to Cannon, but Mick won’t answer.
The interaction with Roman left me confused, scared, and angry. I’ve seen hints of his temper, but this is the first time he’s gotten physical. Did he plan my death? I can’t believe the hard man upstairs would save me by pretending to hire Cannon. His heart is his business. He still needs me, and he wanted me away from Cannon. I can’t prove it, but it feels right. And feelings are all I have to go by. A risk, since one of the things my marriage showed me was that I don’t know the man I married.
I didn’t know Cannon, but he didn’t need to seduce me to squirrel me away from LA where he could dump my body easier. He didn’t need to comfort me, but he did anyway. He has to be better than Roman.
Mick leads me to my studio. Something about the door is different. I can’t put my finger on it before I’m led inside. This room used to be my oasis. A familiar place in a house that fit like a bulky glove.
He flips on the light.
The home studio is a quarter of the size of mine, but enough for one person. There’s a set of mirrors on one wall. In the corner is a cot with blankets and a pillow.
Disbelief hits me so hard I can’t think for a moment. I’m supposed to sleep here? This isn’t a room. It’s a… My earlier thought about comparing Mick to animal control surfaces. It’s a cage. “Wha—”
“There’s a bathroom, as you know. One of us will deliver meals three times a day.”
“How many of you are there?”
He lets me go and hurries out of the room. I know it’s useless, but I try to follow him out. The door is slammed in my face. The thud of a lock sounds along with several electronic beeps.
That’s what’s different. There’s a lock on the door where there was none before.
My mind is spinning as I step away from the door. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of pounding on it. My stomach heaves and I take a few deep breaths.
I woke up a free woman. I woke up safe and warm. But the guy I was with supposedly wants to kill me. Yet the husband I’m divorcing has dragged me back home and locked me up.
I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know how much time I have to figure it out.
