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Her thoughts swirled as she entered the BnB again. She turned the key to her quarters, her brow furrowed. The second she clipped the door shut; however, she realized she wasn’t alone.
Her stomach clenched.
Her heart stopped beating.
She had never been more afraid in her life.
There, seated on the balcony, in full view of her, was a man she’d never seen in her life.
He looked at her with dark, arrogant eyes. His expensive-looking shoe was placed over the top of his opposite knee, and his large hands cupped both knees. He made no motion to move. Instead, he seemed pleased to just watch her, like she was a bird and he was her prey.
“What... what the hell are you doing in my room?” Elise whispered, her voice wavering dangerously. Her eyes scanned him for some sign of a weapon. She reached back to grip the doorknob. She could be out in the corridor in a flash.
The man lifted his hands upward like he prayed or something. “I don’t mean to frighten you, Elise.”
Elise’s nostrils flared. “Then, I don’t know what the hell you meant, breaking into my room like this.”
“I didn’t break-in. I have a key,” the man announced.
Elise had never been so violently angry in her life. Why was this man trying to belittle her? Why was he trying to frighten her so?
“So you own the place. What makes you think you can charge in here without asking? What kind of hospitality is that?” she spat. “I don’t know if you know this, but these places are all about reviews. And I know exactly the kind of review I’m going to leave.”
“And what happens then? We have to close? Poor Connell is out of a job?” The man stuck his lower lip out in a mock pout. “You wouldn’t do that. Rumor has it you’re pretty taken with old Mackinac Island. Going to concerts. Hanging out at the Pink Pony.”
What the hell. Had this guy been following her?
“Get out of my room,” Elise demanded. “Immediately.”
The man stood slowly. Elise felt as though he wanted to toy with her before he did away with her. He buttoned his suit jacket and blinked his dark eyes her way.
“Have you been walking around town telling people that Dean Swartz is your father?” he asked.
The words felt like a punch to the stomach.
Elise’s voice wavered. “That is none of your business. What does it matter anyway?”
“It matters a great deal to a number of people,” the man replied.
He stepped from the balcony into the bedroom, which forced Elise back toward the opposite wall. She wanted him to get out but wanted to keep a healthy distance. Now, he seemed to have the upper hand: control of both the balcony and the door. What had she done?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elise returned. Again, she hated her voice, how she couldn’t trust it to remain flat.
“Who is your mother?” the man said.
Elise bit hard on her lower lip. Maybe this would clear things up. Maybe—if the man knew anything at all about Dean Swartz—he knew Allison Darby, as well.
“My mother was named Allison Darby,” she said.
The man’s scoff was horrendous. Its entire purpose was to belittle Elise.
“I have never heard that name in my entire life,” he told her.
“I don’t know why that’s such a shock. She was born and raised in California. And that’s where she died,” Elise returned. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Is that enough information for you? Can I ask you to get the hell out of here again?”
The man gave her another of his classic, sinister gazes.
“I should ask you the same thing,” he said.
“What do you mean? This is my room.”
“No.” He stepped toward her, very nearly cornering her. She had never been more frightened in her life. “I know what you’re up to, Elise. If you don’t leave this island and take your fictitious lies with you, then I’ll find a way to force you out. And I never go back on my word.”
With that, the stranger yanked open the door, cut through to the corridor, and slammed it closed behind him.
