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“Why do you even care? Why are you pretending to right now? You haven’t spoken to me in months, and suddenly you decide you want to have dinner together? Well fuck you, Black. I’m not interested.” I push up from the table and stalk toward the open door, wanting to be out of this room as soon as humanly possible.
“Stop where you are, Rebecca.” His voice is eerily clear and strong.
I falter for just a second before continuing my exit. There’s the clattering of cutlery when I take another step and the scrape of his chair with my next. As I leave the room, I quicken my pace, heading straight for my bedroom. I’m only two steps up the staircase before I feel his presence. I don’t stop, though, knowing if I turn around, I’ll be lost to him. I need to get to the safety of my space and get changed. I’ll be leaving tonight.
Once I reach my bedroom, I dart inside and throw the door closed behind me. It doesn’t latch though. I turn around and see him standing in the door frame, almost taking up the entire space. “Leave me alone!” I yell at him.
He comes further into the room until he’s only a step from me. “What is going on with you? Why are you acting this way, it’s not you.”
“And just how do you know who I am? You only see the side of me that I let you see,” I volley back.
“I know you quite well, I think.”
I snort. “Whatever.”
“What do you want from me?”
“If you really want to know, then fine, I’ll tell you. I don’t require a thing. Not one damn thing from you.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” His left eyebrow arches up, closing the gap between his hairline and his eyebrow.
“Oh yeah? And what do you think I want from you, hey? Since you’re so fucking clever, you tell me.”
“You should check the way you’re speaking to me, Rebecca. I’m not a man who is known for his patience or tolerance.” His nostrils flare; I’m affecting him. “Does this whole episode and change of attitude toward me have anything to do with me being different lately?” he asks.
I’m speechless for a moment. He knows that he has been different which means he has 100 percent been doing it on purpose. “I don’t know why you keep me here when it’s so obvious you don’t want me here, and can’t stand to be with me. So why don’t you just save us both the conflict and let me go?”
“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, you’re not leaving.” His voice lowers to almost a whisper, with a tone not to be taken lightly.
“Fuck you, Black. Get out of my room!” I exclaim, pushing against his muscular chest. But he doesn’t move an inch. I push him again and again but he still doesn’t budge. Tears leak from my eyes; I’m furious. My pushes turn to punches, and yet Alexander doesn’t move or even try to stop me. My punches become weaker as my tears fall freely, emotions I have tried to keep locked inside making their way out.
He takes hold of my wrists gently and pulls me closer to his chest, then wraps me close with his other arm, where I continue to sob. “I hate this.” I sniffle. “I really, really hate this, you knob.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart, let it all out. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers into my hair. He releases his hold on me and moves his hand to the back of my head, stroking and petting me. And instead of feeling outraged, I begin to settle, the comfort of his body doing exactly the opposite of what I wanted it to. And I wonder if he feels the same. Does our body contact relax him the way it does me? Or am I just some errant distraction in his home?
“Why do you treat me so poorly most of the time and then suddenly be nice to me?” I ask.
“Because it’s best if we aren’t involved. I’m an incredibly dangerous man, but I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, including keeping you at a distance. I have enemies, one of which you have already had the misfortune of meeting, and he is, dare I say, one of the more civilized ones. They all, however, will do anything to hurt me. And I won’t let them hurt you to get to me.”
I’m momentarily taken aback. This must be where the threat came from. He really is trying to protect me. I have the urge to tell him that I overheard the conversation he had with Harold, but I don’t want him to know that. I’d rather he tell me freely.
“That’s still no excuse for the way you treat me when we are home alone together. No one is around to see how we are when it’s just the two of us. And yet you treat me as if I don’t even exist. It hurts me.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s better this way,” he whispers back.
I allow the comfort of his arms to envelop me for a minute, all while thoughts of escape float through my mind. It has to be tonight, otherwise he will continue to suck me back into his vortex, just like he has done tonight, and I will keep giving in to him and the way it makes me feel. But I won’t do that anymore. I can’t do it to myself. I have to get out and get word to someone. Inside the clutch I had the night Alexander brought me here, I have my wallet and my credit cards. If I can just get to the local airport, I can purchase a plane ticket and head back home.
When he finally lets me go, I look up into his beautiful dark blue eyes, almost black in the light of the bedside lamp. I see the emotions he keeps in check battling to get to the surface. “Good night, Mr. Black.”
“I’ll get Thelma to send you up something to eat. Good night, Rebecca.”
“Thank you.” I turn away from him and walk into the bathroom. When the door is closed, I collapse to the floor and await the soft click as he leaves. Once that comforting sound comes, I lift myself up and exit the bathroom. Knowing that Thelma will be up any minute, I don’t dare to start organizing my getaway bag, just in case she catches a glimpse of it. If she were to see it, no doubt she’d tell Mr. Black immediately then any chance of me leaving would be gone forever.
I sit down on the bed and open my book to the place marked by the intricately designed metal bookmark. I’ve read a couple of chapters by the time Thelma announces her arrival with her usual four knocks. I smile inwardly at the comfort her knock brings. “Come in.”
The door opens and she walks in with a silver tray laden with food and drink, then deposits it safely on the small table and chair set in the corner.
“I made your favorite tonight—spaghetti carbonara. I also made some fresh scones with strawberry jam and whipped vanilla cream for you to have with a cup of tea.”
