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The incident at the pool made me realize how shaky my position here was.
I rested my head against the wood, finally letting my tears flow. I wasn’t usually much of a crier, but I’d done more of it in the past two weeks than in the past ten years.
“Crying won’t help. It’ll make you appear weak,” a familiar voice said.
I startled, dropping the plate and spilling all the food on the gleaming floor. The tears immediately stopped, and I stiffly looked up at a tight-faced Lucius.
How did I not notice someone else was in the room with me?
He was sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees. But he was anything but relaxed. His fists were balled tightly, his eyes dark, his jaw muscles working overtime.
He sat up, his attention on my neck. “Give me something else about your attacker. His eye color. Height. Anything.” His eyes roamed over my face, his expression growing stormier with each pass.
I shrank back against the door. Right now, he was ten times scarier than the person who did this to me.
I was exhausted, emotionally and physically.
When I didn’t answer, he jumped up, lithe as a jungle cat, and stalked closer. He was magnificent in his anger but at the same time terrifying.
I stared at him with wide eyes, wondering if this was a test. Did he think I knew who’d attacked me?
My breaths came in short bursts, and I was struggling for air. I couldn’t read his expression, other than that he was clearly pissed off.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the roaring in my ears. I took a deep breath in. And out. In. Out. I just had to keep breathing.
He didn’t move, and he didn’t talk, allowing me a moment to calm down. When I was sure I had myself back under control, I slowly opened my eyes and stood up, feeling at too much of a disadvantage sitting on the floor. I met Lucius’s gaze and was taken by surprise at the anguish I saw. The anger was gone, replaced with a sadness that seemed too great to comprehend.
He reached out, tracing the bruises on my throat, his eyes following where the tips of his fingers travelled.
Without thinking, I placed a hand on his arm that wasn’t touching me. The urge to comfort him was laughable. He wasn’t the one being held prisoner. Or getting hurt. Yet I couldn’t help myself, the draw too strong. His muscles tensed under my hand, but he didn’t move away.
“Give me a name.” His voice came out broken, the hand that had been caressing my throat dropping back to his side. Even though the touch had barely been there, I still felt its echo down to my soul.
I studied my hand on him, liking the feel of his muscles playing under my fingers and hating myself for it. “I don’t know who it was. I’ve never met him.”
We stood in a silent standoff before he finally relented.
The fight left me, my hand dropping back to my side, curled into a fist.
“Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it for anyone.”
He seemed to take all the warmth with him when he left the room, and I slumped over in exhaustion.
Somehow, I didn’t think my story would have a good ending.
Chapter8
Lucius
“Don’t movefrom this door unless you see Santino or myself,” I barked at one of my most loyal men, who was standing guard.
To say what happened had shaken me was an understatement. I’d spent the last two nights looking for answers about who hurt Everleigh. My instructions had been clear when she arrived: “Don’t touch the girl.”
But someone seemed to have a death wish. Defying my orders was enough reason for a swift sentence. But hurting the one thing I cared about in this godforsaken place was reason for a slow death.
I hadn’t slept since the incident, and I had only visited her once before tonight—the night after it happened. I had to see for myself that she was okay.
We had cameras all around the property, and I’d seen her walk through the house when she wasn’t supposed to. Santino was now sporting a black eye for leaving her by herself.
