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“No. She was meticulous about that. About you.” I shrug, the cold seeping into my jacket. “I’d rather have my house raided every day than be without Daphne. I can’t speak to the shooting.”
Leo shoves his hands into his pockets and paces a few steps down the beach, then returns.
“I don’t like this. You have no security. That’s an enormous fucking problem. You can’t keep her here without security.”
“I don’t want to keep her here.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“I won’t keep her. I won’t make her stay. If she wants to be here, I want her here. And if she wants to leave, I’ll let her go.” In fact, I’ll make her leave. It’s for the best. Another worry forces itself to the front of my mind. “Is it true she’s not painting?”
For the first time since he arrived, all the pretense drops away from his face. He doesn’t bother to hide his concern at all. “She won’t paint. I bought her everything I could think of, but she’s listless. Distant. She’s never refused to paint before.” Leo hesitates. “I’m worried it’s worse than that.”
“That she can’t.”
“But she painted here. With you.”
“Yes.”
He curses under his breath. “She has to paint. She needs it.”
“I know.”
The waves fill the silence while Leo thinks.
“I’m not saying this is over,” he says, finally. “I’m not leaving until I talk to her. And I’m still furious that you kidnapped her.”
“But?”
“She loves you too much for me to kill you, so I won’t.”
“Thanks.”
“No fucking problem,” Leo says. “Let’s go inside. Daphne’s waiting.”
