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My lovely Hallie is not nearly as happy to see me as I am to see her.
I suppose I should have expected that.
Not only because I sent Arson—who’s not terribly good company—to retrieve her, or even because I had him shoot her date, which she probably wasn’t thrilled about. I’m sure both things contributed to her displeasure, but the real problem runs much deeper than those little road bumps.
I like her more than she likes me.
That’s the real problem.
That’s never happened to me before, so I’m not entirely sure how to navigate it.
She’s lovely as always and wearing the red dress she wore the night I first saw her. How appropriate. We’ve come full circle.
I should have just kidnapped her that night and been done with it.
Serves me right for trying to do things therightway.
Well, sort of.
Hallie’s sulking terribly when Arson hauls her in. She doesn’t even speak to me. This time she doesn’t seem surprised that Marie is here, but since Arson picked her up for me, I imagine she has figured out that I sent him, and any illusion of safety she had from me was just that: an illusion.
Ignoring both of us as I hand Arson his payment envelope and he responds with a cursory, “Pleasure doing business with you,” she walks over to Marie’s bed and sinks down next to it so she can hug her cat.
“I’ll let you know if I need anything else,” I tell Arson, and then he leaves.
Hallie sits on the floor with her legs curled behind her and Marie curled up on her lap. Chef Ryan is gone and Hollis isn’t here, so it’s just us and the silence.
She knows I’m standing here, but doesn’t feel like looking at me. Without looking up from Marie as she strokes her, she speaks in a cooler tone I know is meant for me. “You’re a monster.”
“I told you not to go on the date,” I remind her. “I warned you.”
Her gaze snaps to me, her big blue eyes wide. “You didn’t tell me anyone would get hurt!”
In my mind, it seems she should have been able to puzzle that out, but I don’t want to insult her intelligence, so I don’t say that. Besides, it might be unfair. I know her mind doesn’t work the way mine does. “I told you what I wanted, and you know I’ll do whatever it takes togetwhat I want. He’s lucky that kiss didn’t land—that would’ve earned him a second bullet in the other leg.”
Glaring up at me, she asks crudely, “And what if I fucked him?”
Rage surges inside me at the notion. Reveling in a moment of malice in response to her fit of brattiness, I take pleasure in smiling faintly as I tell her, “Then he would be dead.”
She still glares at me, but I can tell by the way she swallows and flinches, she knows I mean it.
Looking back down at Marie and petting her, she asks woodenly, “So, what? I belong to you now?”
“You’ve belonged to me since the moment we met,” I assure her.
“I didn’t agree to that,” she says lowly.
“I don’t care.”
She shakes her head like she can’t believe me, but what weapon does the poor thing truly have to use against me? None.
“You’ll be staying here now,” I tell her. “We tried out living apart. I didn’t like it.”
“I did,” she mutters.
I ignore her and gesture to the corner where I set up her drawing table as close as I could to the one at her apartment with all the same brands of tools since I assume those are her preference, but a better quality desk and chair—and definitely a better view. “I set your work space up over there. You’ll still be allowed to do your work, but if you have to go in for a meeting, Hollis will escort you. Unfortunately, I can’t trust you to go out on your own yet. Once I know you don’t pose a flight risk, you’ll be allowed to move around as you please as long as you always come back here.”
“And if I don’t?”
