I wake backin my room, and I don’t know how to feel about it. So, I ignore itpletely. I have to get out of here before Gracin Stockholm Syndrome’s me or something. Under the guise of my everyday routine, I put more effort into figuring out how toescape.


    Not causing Gracin serious physical harm when I was so close to him was thest straw. He’s maic, and if I don’t want to be sucked back into his vortex, I have to do everything I can to run in the oppositedirection.


    I dress in a simple yoga outfit from my closet and brush my teeth as I n. My best bet is going to be one of the less patrolled wings, which eliminates the kitchen and the garages, which are on the south side. I can break a window or pry open a door and then find a way aroundthe<span>wall.


    Marie greets me in the dining room with a breakfast tray and, thankfully,no<span>lip.


    To fly under the radar, I follow my routine. Breakfast, swim, then I go to the library. By the time I get done with everything, it’s already one in the afternoon. The libraries are the only ces in the house I haven’t explored as thoroughly as I want to because too much quiet time only leaves medespondent.


    I pick the biggest of the three, and if I’d been any other person, in any other situation, I would have dered the room to be beautiful. Both the left and right shelves are full of books of all shapes and sizes. In the middle, arge rug, club chairs, and a deep-set sofa invite guests to sit and rx with a nice read. Along the back wall are floor-to-ceiling windows that look out the side of thegarden.


    I ignore the books and head straight for the windows. They’re older than the rest of the ones in the house. Maybe they haven’t been updated with a security system, yet, though the possibility is unlikely. I study the hinges and note some of them are rusting. Maybe I’ll be able to forceone<span>open.


    “Trying to leaveso<span>fast?”


    I spin around and find Gracin standing behind me. “What the hell are you doing here?” Istammer.


    He lifts a brow. “Ilive<span>here.”


    “I thought you weren’t going to be back untildinner.”


    “I had a feeling after yesterday you were going to try toleave.”


    I raise my chin, my eyes shing. “I should be able to go whenI<span>want.”


    “Not when Sal is still looking for you. Lookingfor<span>me.”This content belongs to N?/velDra/ma.Org .


    “Does he not know where you live? What’s stopping him from rolling up right now and gutting us bothlike<span>fish?”


    “No one knows about thisce.”


    “No<span>one?”


    “My home isn’t something I advertise,Tessa.”


    Feeling vulnerable and sensitive after letting him get so close to me, both emotionally and physically, I say, “Why did you even bring me here? Why not just let him get it over with and kill me? It would have been less of a hassle for you and would have saved him thetrouble.”


    He studies me before he says, “What makes you think I wantyou<span>dead?”


    Myugh is joyless, hollow. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I saw you kill a man, you forced me to help you escape from prison, and then had sex with me while my husband’s dead fucking body was in the other room. Not only that,” I continue, working myself into a fine rage, “but now I’m locked in your house, and you won’t letme<span>go.”


    I pause, chest heaving and wonder if I should continue, but the words just don’t stop. They spill out of me, inevitable and weighty. “When I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was the best thing to ever happen to me. I figured it was the silver lining in the shitstorm that is my life. I didn’t care that it was yours, that I’d be a single mom raising a kid on the run. For once, I had something perfect and pure, and then it was taken away from me! And I me you. I wish you’d let me die. I don’t know if I can forgive you for everything that’shappened.”


    He shrugs and looks away. “I don’t expectyou<span>to.”


    “What do you wantfrom<span>me?”


    “I want to make sure Sal’s dead, and there won’t be any blowback on you. Once I’m sure you’ll be safe, I’ll letyou<span>go.”


    The thought should have filled me with indescribable joy, but instead, I’m more conflictedthan<span>ever.


    “Is that what you’re doing every day? Lookingfor<span>him.”


    He crosses to the window and leans a forearm against it. “Yes, I am looking for him. He’s gone to ground because he knows I’m looking for him, probably nning hisnext<span>move.”


    He’s silent after that, and it affords me the chance to just look at him while I consider his words. He’s wearing jeans today with a button-up white shirt that’s rolled up enough to reveal the shadows of ink unfurling on his rightforearm.


    I follow the dark pattern under the almost see-through material of his shirt, and my mouth goes dry as a wave of intense desire courses through me when I spot the outlines of twin metal rings in his nipples. When had he had time todo<span>that?


    I turn away, not wanting him to see just how badly I want to order him to take his shirt off so I can see them. My body still recognizes him on a primal level despite what it’s been through. It’s primordial, instinctual, and I can no more resist how much I want him than I can resist breathing. When had he be as essential to me as life itself? Reconciling needing him with what he’s done . . . I don’t know if it’spossible.


    His feete into view, and I look up to find him standing in front of me. “Come with me,” he says, and I frown as he leaves the room. I hurry to keep up with him, not wanting to be leftbehind.


    “Where are wegoing?”


    “I’ll exin when we get there,” he tells me as he leads me to a door that has been locked every time I’d jiggled the handle. He holds it open for me, and I realize why I hadn’t dared to force it open before. Rows of monitors line both walls with wide countertops in front of them. Two of his men sit in roway chairs and look up when weenter.


    “You want out of here? Then you’d better pay attention,” he says. “Pay close attention. Do you want something from me? I want somethingfrom<span>you.”


    “What the hell do you want from me?” I hiss. “You have me locked up here like a good little pet. What more doyou<span>want?”


    “Kiss me, Tessa,” he says. “One kiss, and you can go with me to track down those men whohurt<span>you.”


    “You’re ridiculous! I don’t fucking think so. Didn’t you already getenough?”


    He nods to someone behind me, and the bodyguards I’d forgotten were theree up behind me. One of the big, beefy bastards grabs me by the arms, and I know I won’t be going anywhere. I want to scream infrustration.


    “Fine! Fine! One. I mean it, Gracin. One kiss and nothing else or I swear to God I will kill you and they’ll never findthe<span>body.”


    “Don’t tease me,” he says as he jerks his chin to the bodyguards, who leave. He crosses the room as they shut the door behind them, leaving us alone in the smallspace.


    “Well, let’s get this over with,”I<span>say.


    “Soeager.”


    “Less talking, morefocusing.”


    He chuckles and tucks his hands under the fall of my hair. His thumbs nudge my jaw, and I lift, ring at him as he drawscloser.


    “Is it reallyso<span>bad?”


    The truth is, no. It’s not. And that’s what makes me so fucking angry. I don’t get the chance to answer because his lips cover mine and scatter all rational thought like dandelion fluff in atornado.


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