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“I’m not getting out.”
“You out! You out!”
His English was perfect when I got in. I eye him suspiciously but get out. Fine, I’ll get another car. He points at an overgrown brownstone, then he gets back into the car and drives off.
“Asshole,” I grumble.
“Pollyanna.”
Everything wobbles inside of me.
Mercer.
And his master’s voice.
Except...there’s a softer cadence to it. But it’s still commanding, compelling, and I slowly turn.
My breath sticks fast in my lungs.
Mercer is in the doorway of the house. He hesitates for a second before he takes the stairs down to the sidewalk and my heart stills when I meet his tentative gaze.
I can see his soul.
Dorian Gray’s painting in the attic.
The thing so secret no one else has seen.
I know, because it’s all over his face, in the darkness of his eyes, the hesitancy of his step.
“What is this?” I ask, looking up at the brownstone.
“My real home,” he says. “Or it will be. One day when I’m finished.”
He’s in jeans and a dirty white T-shirt,there are paint stains and wood stain smeared on it, and it’s covered in saw dust.
He looks so delicious, I could faint. “You don’t have to stay, but please listen, and then if you want to go, I’ll get you another flight and another car.”
Mercer doesn’t wait, just carries my bags inside, leaving me to follow.
When I step inside, I fall in love all over again. My jaw drops as I look around at the place.
“It’s gorgeous,” I breathe.
“I got it when I got out of prison and made my first million.”
“Had anyone else been here?”
“No.” He sets down the bags and leads me into the finished kitchen. “Just the workers. I’m doing most of it myself, so I’m learning a lot as I go, but that’s why it’s in this state.”
The place is simple, homey, and not a billionaire’s place. But it’s the kind of place that suits Mercer Vale, at least the version I know. It’s the place of a man who needs comfort and to hide his humanity from the world.
It’s a gift.
He’s giving me the gift of seeing it. Of seeing him.
Then he rubs his face. “I tried, Ivy, but I couldn’t do it.”
“Do what?”
