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“You mean,” he clarified, even as the driver opened the door and took his seat again, “they would want me to take a heavy hand with you? Physically?”
“One hundred percent,” I mumbled out of the side of my mouth. “They’ll welcome it.”
Sharp eyes flicked down to me. “And how do you know that?”
I rotated an accusatory stare up to him. Did he just interrogate me? I made sure to settle my features into an emotionless mask. “Because that’s how they are.”
He didn’t believe me. Twisting forward again, he looked out the windshield as the car pulled away from the curb. “Alright.”
The further we coasted through the city, the deeper my dread sank. Like a paperweight plunked into a river, my dismay started somewhere around my head and then sank down to my gut with heavy apprehension. It was easy to be nonchalant with Kael, but the moment I truly faced the possibility of stepping foot in that apartment again, the moment I went toe-to-toe with reality, it lined my thoughts with weighted lead.
My parents’ home in Manhattan had been built on top of a three-hundred-year-old piece of brick and limestone history. With its glimmering copper-plated roof and glass walls, it sat on the old building like a cheesy New Year’s Eve hat on a stooped, ancient woman. When the car stopped at the curb, the lobby attendants came forward to open the door and unload our luggage. My parents had told them to expect us.
Kael kept a hand on my arm as he helped me from the car, and I couldn’t help but admire his practiced finesse at this illusion. He held me close, his fingers like an iron manacle around my arm, and although he managed to make it look like he was a protective bodyguard, I knew that my parents would see what he wanted them to see—that I was a prisoner. It helped that Kael looked the part.
Kael had dressed in a white button-down shirt that stretched across his chest and strained against the muscles that bulged and dipped on his arms. He also wore a black, pressed tie, but no suit jacket, and he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, his toned forearms and graphic tattoos on mouth-watering display. Around his hips, he wore a utility belt with a gun, handcuffs, and a range of other things I didn’t recognize, and silver rings glinted on his thumb and forefingers. All in all, Kael looked like he simultaneously didn’t give a fuck, but would also fuck you up if you pointed it out.
He kept a firm grip on my arm as he led me to the lobby where the attendants held the door open for us, and without missing a beat, he marched me across the nineteenth-century refurbished lobby dripping with opulence. We passed a doorman and went right for the gold-plated elevator doors. I shot him a nervous glance as we waited for the doors to open, and he slanted a look my way.
A smile plucked at his mouth. “That’s more like it. You look like I’m leading you to the guillotine.”
I bristled. “And you look way too fucking pleased about it.”
Kael shifted his hand down my arm to my wrist, where he scratched a soft line along the soft skin. “One.”
I fought a smile. It was dangerous to spar with him like this, especially so close to my parents, but I felt better almost immediately. Kael was with me, and I knew exactly how much of a persistent asshole he could be. Everything would be fine.
A ding preceded the whir of the elevator doors, and as they parted, two pairs of familiar eyes speared straight through me. Alicia Thorne and Augustus Thorne. They had come down to meet us, and they trapped me with matching glares of simmering fury that I was sure had been stoked by the two years I’d been gone. I hadn’t seen them for even longer than that, actually. I’d been trapped in a mansion in France for four months before I’d finally managed to escape.
Alicia looked as put-together as ever, with her expertly highlighted, blond bob cutting across her jaw in a way that perfectly matched her cut-throat personality. We shared the same eyes, but on her, they looked like unforgiving granite rather than warm brown sugar. Augustus adjusted his thick glasses, his deceptively soft face filled with silent fury, and I looked between them in what I hoped was a meek expression.
Kael pushed me just hard enough to be aggressive, but not hard enough that anyone watching in the lobby would be suspicious. Then he followed me in and pushed the fifth-floor penthouse button.
As soon as the doors had closed, my mother rounded on me. “How dare you, Matilda?”
Predictable opening, I mused, keeping my eyes on my brown ankle boots. But I suppose it conveys her point well enough. I slumped my shoulders forward in the best imitation of “afraid” that I could.
Kael cleared his throat. “If I may, Mrs. Thorne.”
My mother flicked an enraged look up to Kael, which immediately softened with a hint of fear. “Yes, Mr… what is your last name?”
Ignoring her question, he said, “I’ve had some time to speak with Miss Thorne since she has been my… guest.” He pinched my arm hard enough that I jumped. “Mattie?”
I forced my head back up, working hard to keep it smooth. Then I met my mother’s beady, beetle eyes. “I’m sorry, Mother. It was foolish of me to run. I won’t do it again.”
My father tilted his head, as if looking at Kael in a new light. “Is that so?”
“I don’t think she’ll cause any more trouble,” Kael said with a meaningful, hard look my way.
To his credit, he really did look formidable. His jaw took on an unforgiving, sharp angle, and his eyes looked like they could flash freeze my nose right off my face if he wanted to. It wasn’t difficult to act intimidated. “That’s right,” I whispered softly. It was his job to look imposing. It was what I had asked of him, but although I’d seen Kael furious with me, frustrated, incredulous, and even outraged, I’d never seen him look emotionless. Like I did nothing to him at all. Like I was a Persian rug that he had to deliver to the door before moving on to his next assignment.
I hated it. I wanted to tease him and provoke him until his neck turned red and that little vein on his temple stood out. But I couldn’t. So, I held his gaze until I thought it would crack me open, and then I looked away.
The elevator doors dinged again, opening to the lush foyer that encompassed two stories and three hundred square feet of gaudy marble and gold touches. Kael stepped out of the elevator, his hands off me now that I was with my parents, but his eyes following my every move. I walked fast, as if hoping to put distance between him and myself. The more afraid my parents thought I was of Kael, the more inclined they would be to keep him around.
My parents followed me, and I dragged my feet across the marble floors, genuinely dreading setting foot in the gilded cage in front of me. Kael came up right behind me, and I fast-walked forward again. I could feel my parents’ eyes on us as we acted through the exchange, sweat gathering along the hairline at my neck. What would Kael do if they sent him away? We’d never discussed it in detail. Would he take me with him? But then, if he did, how would I get the papers that would free me?
Anxiety gnawed at my stomach. What if he had been playing me this whole time? What if he really did intend to hand me over and walk away with the two million dollars my parents had offered him?
