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“No.”
“Shame. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let you out.”
I drop my gaze down to the thing he’s still holding, bemused at the fact that I’ve apparently been hypnotised. “You hypnotised me? That’s not a real thing.”
“And yet you perched on the top of my home, inches from your death, just because I told you to. Seemed reasonably real to me at the time.”
“I did not.”
“You did. Gray rescued you. He was like a Knight, charging.”
“He did?”
“Yes. I’m not sure I would have bothered at the time.”
My eyes widen, the reality of someone I thought I was beginning to understand bedding in to my thoughts. “You … I can’t think about that.” I push up and stand, suddenly nervous around him and not liking the feeling one little bit. Although, my eyes narrow. “What else did you make me do?”
“Nothing much. You started turning into something interesting enough to keep me entertained. And Gray was besotted. It made me feel like perhaps you shouldn’t die.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Do. I’m imaginative like that. Dead, alive. What does it matter in reality?”
I snatch the damn chain out of his hand so quickly he hasn’t got a chance of holding onto it. “I’m not discussing this anymore.” The chain grates in my hand, the hard curve of the ball fitting perfectly in my clenched fist. “And you are not doing that to another woman ever again.”
“Boring.”
“Murder?”
“I never touched you. It would have been suicide. Which, considering your recently widowed status, would have been perfectly acceptable. Also,” he waves his hand around the luxury we’re currently standing in, as if showing the notion that wealth conquers all. “Malachi Jones.”
“Gray would have-"
“Gray wouldn’t have done a thing. Gray provides everything that entertains my guests. A little on the rough side of the law for him to have to explain.”
I frown and back up a step, annoyed with him and his sense of appropriate, and also not able to counter the last part of that argument. “I hate you.”
“If only you did.” He chuckles and steps forward into me, tugging me against his chest regardless of my crossed arms. “Unfortunately you don’t. Everyone loves a bad, bad man.”
Another chuckle and he starts swaying us, as if there’s music and we should dance to it. “And think how dismal your life would be now if I wasn’t in it. No castle, no pills, no fun. No pain either. What a game we’re in, Hannah. All for the love of a man who can’t give you a future unless he's pushed.”
One of his hands creeps in between us, his fingers slipping over mine to hold them on his chest rather than the clutched grip I’m trying to keep on my arms. I can feel the thud of his heart beating strongly under my fingers, the dark drum of it inciting feelings of trust again rather than the cynicism I should be feeling. “Just relax. We’ll get there. You just might need to die for it to happen.”
My mouth opens, shock and disbelief making me wonder if I’m still hypnotised to even listen to him. I grip the chain and ball, keeping it tight and clasped to help ground me. The sudden appearance of Faith leaning on a doorframe behind him, grinning about something, makes me pull out of his hold and shake my head clear. Die? I’m not dying. I’m living. I’m living and finding my truths, and perhaps when I’ve found my truths I’ll live some more in my own new way.
“Time to get ready, little Hannah,” he says, as he turns and wanders over to Faith.
A chaste kiss gets left lingering on her lips before he walks back inside, holding the ball and chain up for me to see before he leaves us alone. My hand opens, not quite understanding how or when he took that back from me. It was here, with me. And now it’s there – with him.
Sneaky.
Faith eventually smiles at my confusion some more and looks me over, clearly less than impressed at my choice of jeans and shirt today.
“This isn’t going to work,” she says. I don’t know if I want anything to work anymore, certainly not if it pertains to me dying. “Your flair seems to have flown off somewhere. Is it the dead husband in your thoughts?”
“No. I’m just beginning to wonder if you’re both mad as hatters.”
“Maybe we are. Is that so wrong?” She giggles and claps her hands. “Maybe you are, too.”
