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He’d been in so many meetings since he’d brought me here that the only time I’d spent with him was when he’d watched over me at night. He’d remained in a chair in the dark, acting as if soldiers would break into his house. The damn place was a fortress, complete with a security system fit for a military operation. He’d stationed at least four men outside where they remained twenty-four hours a day. I’d seen a few people come and go but had yet to be introduced to anyone.
Even if I were, what would he say? We hadn’t talked about anything important, so I had no idea what he wanted from me. But he had repeated at least twice that no one was ever going to hurt me.
And I believed him.
He led me out one of the back doors onto the patio. Then he grinned, waiting until I came closer. When he pressed his hand on the small of my back, I took a deep breath. The air was crisp but not cold for an early November day. However, a cold front was expected to arrive later that night.
I’d noticed a garden from the window but wasn’t close enough to be able to tell anything about it. As we walked closer, I was surprised to see a massive greenhouse that had been hidden from view. “I didn’t know you were into gardening.”
“I’m not. The former owners were. But I found I enjoyed walking inside. It calmed me. I hired a gardener to maintain its former glory.”
“Calmed the rage?”
“The sadness.”
“I thought the painting did that.” I glanced at his face. He seemed even more melancholy than before, but it was easy to tell he also remained on edge.
He chuckled and nodded several times. “It does. But for a long time I couldn’t put a brush to a canvas.”
“Because of Annie.”
“Yes.” He guided me inside, and I was surprised at the beautiful specimens. The greenhouse was elegant in design and very large, the flowers and plants some of the most incredible I’d seen.
“This is amazing.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
When I noticed several types of roses, a shiver trickled down my spine. I gathered a whiff of the incredible fragrance from where I was standing. “They’re beautiful.”
“They are my mother’s favorite flower. She gave me one piece of advice when I turned eighteen. She told me that women loved roses, but never to give them on Valentine’s Day or a woman’s birthday. Make it a Tuesday or whatever day the flowers might brighten her mood.”
“Is that why you sent me roses?” I tipped my head, studying his eyes.
“Partly. But I didn’t have good intentions in the beginning.” He motioned for me to follow. As a table came into view, I pressed my hands over my mouth.
He’d already opened a bottle of wine. As he moved closer, lifting the bottle from the holder, he studied me carefully.
“What were your intentions?”
“To exact my revenge.”
“What happened?”
He poured two glasses, bringing one closer before answering. “Then I saw you.”
“The coffee shop.”
“You knew.” He closed the distance, staring down at me. I remained amazed that I no longer feared him in any way. He’d asked me to trust him and in doing so, I’d survived.
“Of course I knew.”
He laughed softly as he brushed his knuckles across my face. Then his expression became serious. “Devon and I went to college together. We were two of a kind and I assure you most of our intentions weren’t for the good. Annie was in several of our classes. While Devon was intent on dating her, I was happy being friends. However, over the months, Annie and I became closer.”
“And my uncle was jealous.”
“Not at first, but as time went on, he grew angry. We started arguing about it. Things got really heated. Annie broke up with me and tried to ignore us. Devon wouldn’t let it happen, coming close to harassing her until she gave in. After that he started hanging out with her. Suddenly, they were tight. It put a rift between us.” He looked away, the sadness in his eyes increasing.
“I’m sorry.”
