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“I know you’re scared. I was too when I first heard he was looking for you, but right now, Richardson doesn’t know you’re here. We keep you hidden, and we let my Prez handle it. Howler knows what he’s doing.”
My chest loosens a little, allowing me to take a full breath. I gulp it greedily, drawing oxygen into my starved body. “I’m terrified.”
I hate to admit it, but it’s the truth. I know my father can be unbelievably cruel, and while I want to think he will never hurt me, I can’t. He had me under guard in my own bedroom, leaving Scarlett to torment me for weeks, and that was just for running away.
“I didn’t tell you this to scare you,” he says.
“Then why did you?”
“Because secrets ain’t good, Skye.” He rubs my back. “You need to be aware and alert of danger.”
I appreciate the heads up, though I already am alert and aware of everything because I have to be.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have, considering your reaction.”
“No.” I take his hand in mine. “I’m grateful you trusted me with this information. Forewarned is forearmed, right?”
His brows come together. “I don’t know what that means.”
I laugh, and it feels good to do it. “It means having the information gives me an advantage.”
“Right.” He shakes his head. “You getting out of this room is a big step for Howler to take. Means he’s trustin’ us both.”
“I don’t plan on doing anything stupid,” I assure him.
“I hope that’s true. I’m putting a lot of faith in you too. I put my reputation on the line for you here.”
“Even if I leave, where would I go? My father has eyes everywhere. He’ll find me given enough time. I’m safe, and I want to be here. I came to you for a reason, Beau.”
He flinches slightly at my use of his name, but he doesn’t ask me to stop using it either. I take that as a win.
For a moment, he says nothing, but I can see him thinking over my words before he stands and holds his hands out to me. I take them, letting him pull me up. “I want to show you the terrace.”
“The terrace?”
He keeps his hand locked around mine as we head for the door. “It’s the patio area, but it’s pretty nice. Pia does a lot of gardening. Ain’t into flowers and shit, but even I can admit it looks good.”
As the door opens, my pulse skips several beats. It feels forbidden to leave the room, even if I’m with Rage. He leads me along the corridor, and I take in as much as I can as we pass rooms and photographs on the walls.
When he pushes through a door, we end up in a bar area. There’s a counter running the length of one wall and tables scattered around. A group of women are seated together. One is holding a small baby dressed in a lemon baby grow. Her chubby legs kick out, and my stomach twists. I tear my gaze away, not wanting to see the child my father orphaned.
I can’t hide from the looks directed at me. I feel the weight of the stares pinning me as Rage walks me through the room and to a half-glazed door that looks out over a garden area.
I don’t let go of his hand, nor do I look up until we’re out of the bar area and onto the terrace. I don’t breathe either until I’m drawing in the cooler fresh air.
Rage didn’t lie—it is pretty out here. There are pots filled with brightly coloured blooms, a couple of benches overlooking the area, and a wooden pergola covered in climbing plants with big pink flowers.
It looks like it follows the edge of the building, opening out to the street out front. I appreciate the risk he’s taking letting me out here, so I keep my grip on his hand tight as he leads me over to one of the benches.
I don’t want to leave, and I need him to know that. I sink onto the bench with him, my gaze going up to the sky. It’s bright blue with a few fluffy white clouds and beautiful. I close my eyes, letting the sun heat my skin.
“Thank you for bringing me out here.”
“I don’t want you to be a prisoner, Skye. I want you to be a part of this club too.” I want this as well, but I don’t dare voice my desires. “You still feeling sick?”
“I’m a little queasy still, but I always feel better after puking.”
