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I crack a smile. “Thank you, Antonia.”
She flashes me a smile, setting her cleaning cloth aside. “Of course. I’ll wash up and make that for you now. Are you heading out to the pool? I can bring it out for you.”
“That would be amazing. Thank you so much.”
I sigh happily as I slide open the door leading out to the pool area. The water ripples welcomingly, and the weather is perfect. I peel my dress off and toss it on the lounger positioned by a little table so Antonia will know where to set the smoothie, then I make my way into the pool.
Peace washes over me as I swim, refueling me, shoring me up for the battles ahead. I never want to get out.
I tell myself I should so my smoothie doesn’t melt in the heat, but I haven’t actually seen Antonia bring it out. She should have by now, right? How long does it take to make a smoothie?
That might be terrible. I feel guilty even asking her to serve me—let alone rushing her. Maybe she got busy doing something else. Maybe she hadn’t done the dishes yet and needed to clean the blender first.
I consider going inside—maybe she just forgot to bring it out?—but if I walk in there looking for a smoothie and she hasn’t made it yet, I don’t want her to feel bad.
I am thirsty, though, and since I don’t have a smoothie and I’m now afraid walking back into the house for any reason could be taken as impoliteness, I go to the pool house to grab a bottle of water.
When I return, there is still no smoothie, so I pull my dress back on over my wet swimsuit and relax on the lounger while I wait for it. It’s peaceful out here when I know I’m not being watched.
I end up getting so relaxed, I feel myself getting drowsy. I try to listen for the door to slide open behind me, but I must doze off for a minute. The next thing I know, I’m jolted awake. I look at the end table and see my smoothie has just been delivered.
“Oh, thank you, Antonia.” I shift my position on the lounger and reach for the drink, but my blood freezes when I glance behind the table where she should be standing and catch sight of denim.
Antonia wasn’t wearing jeans.
My gaze darts up and I see Landon standing over me.
My heart sinks and then somersaults. Adrenaline shoots through my veins like a shot of heroin, and I start to push myself up off the lounger.
“No,” he says simply, shaking his head. Before I can stand, he sits on the edge of the lounger, casually planting his hand near my hip to keep me from being able to get up. “Stay put. Enjoy your drink.”
I don’t really want to drink it now.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Antonia?” I ask uncertainly.
“I told her she could go home,” he says, his mouth tugging up at the corners as his eyes dance with satisfaction. “Told her we were going to order in tonight.”
I lick my lips, trying to subtly sniff the air to see if I smell alcohol on his breath. I don’t smell anything, but maybe he’s just not close enough. “I thought you were going to be at Malek’s.”
“Yeah.” He reaches out and runs a knuckle under my chin. I suck in a breath and draw away from his touch. “So do our parents. That’s why they’re gone.”
“You know my mom. She’s paranoid. She’ll probably check the security feed even though she didn’t expect you’d be here.”
And even though I was in my room, and Antonia was supposed to be here…
If ever there was a night Mom maynotfeel the need to check the security feed to make sure I’m safe, this is it.
Landon smirks, then he reaches into his pocket and draws out a little black wire frayed at both ends. “Oops. I don’t think the pool camera’s working.”
Shit.
All my excuses have dried up, and I’m starting to feel the onset of panic creeping in. My mouth feels dry and my pulse starts to race. My ribcage seems to be shrinking around my lungs, and the tiny hairs at the back of my neck are on alert.
I know he’s faster and stronger than I am, and I know I am already at a disadvantage. I have no shoes on, I am lying on a fucking pool lounger, and he caught me off-guard. There is literally no fucking way I can run away from him right now. He trapped me before I even knew there was a threat I needed to run from.
With the flight option off the table, all that leaves is fight, but I don’t want to be the first to swing, either. It feels farfetched right now, like a legitimate fucking fantasy, but maybe he isn’t going to do anything to me. Maybe he’s just pushing me around to show me he can. Maybe he only wants to scare me.
Each time he has attacked me before, he has been drinking, and I don’t smell any alcohol on his breath right now. I think he’s sober.
