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He’d just admitted that he could never lose sight of the fact that she was one of them. The enemy. Why would he divulge such a secret to someone he clearly didn’t trust and had no respect for?
“You’re playing games with me. I don’t like it.” The statement was blunt, to the point, and his eyes reflected his surprise at the straightforward comment.
Trystan clearly was used to people who obfuscated, and played the same manipulative games he did, but Iris didn’t pussyfoot around. She spoke her mind, regardless of the consequences. And while she was inexperienced in her field, she wasn’t going to allow him to manipulate and walk all over her.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because until now you’ve been religiously cautious about what you say around me. You’ve done everything short of blindfolding me to prevent me seeing anything to do with the house before today?—”
“Shit, blindfolding you would have been an ideal solution. Why didn’t I think of that?” he interrupted her on a lazy drawl and she shot him an irritated glare.
“So, I don’t buy this sudden about-face,” she continued, ignoring his flippant question. “Why would you divulge such extremely personal information to me of all people? What game are you playing?”
“Let’s get you back to your room,” he said with a wicked grin. “It’s time for your afternoon nap. You’re getting cranky.”
“I’m not a child,” she snapped.
“You resemble one. With that mop of wild curls. And those ridiculously wide and innocent eyes. You look like a girl playing at being an adult. And it’s hard to reconcile the innocence in those eyes with that mouth, and with those generous curves in that tiny, incendiary bikini. You’re a fucking study in contradictions, and I’m starting to wonder if Quinny…” He clammed up abruptly, while Iris blinked up at him shock.
What did he mean about her mouth? And her curves? Were those compliments? He’d sounded extremely pissed off when he’d said them and it left Iris more confused than ever.
He made a sweeping you first gesture with his arm, and Iris—though keen to escape his frustrating presence—led the way back to her room with leaden, reluctant feet.
She tried not to dwell on the fact that she was now thinking of the cage as her room. This twisted situation was fast becoming normal and it made her uneasy. When she reached her door, she stopped and instead of opening it—unwilling to freely step into her own prison—she turned to face him. But she was taken aback by how closely he’d followed her. He was mere inches away, his big body sending off waves of heat, and even steam thanks to his wet clothes. She could smell his woodsy aftershave, feel his soft even breath ruffle the hair at the top of her head, hear the soft ticking coming from the old-fashioned platinum-and-leather-strapped wristwatch he wore.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, appearing confused by her abrupt stop.
“H-have you heard anything about when we can expect the roads to be passable again?” she asked, a little mortified by the unsteadiness of her voice.
“I called a friend in town this morning. Seems like the original estimate of two weeks is right. The road isn’t a priority right now because this is the only house down here. If someone had been injured or if we were in dire need of supplies they would arrange a helicopter, but since neither of those scenarios is the case here, it would be a waste of much-needed emergency resources to dispatch any kind of airborne rescue vehicle to us.”
“You can’t arrange a private helicopter?”
“Why would I? I have food, clean drinking water, solar- and generator-powered electricity. I’m perfectly fine cut off from the world. In fact, I’m happy to be out of physical reach of the rest of humanity for now.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“You don’t want me here.”
“I don’t. But I can deal for two weeks. Especially since I’ve found a way to keep you out of my way.”
“So, you’re just going to keep me locked up for the entire two weeks?” The notion was too unbearable for her brain to wrap around.
“I think I’ve been more than generous. You’ve had spa time, sauna time, free meals, and a hike. You have access to the Wi-Fi, and a television… think of it as a vacation.”
“I told you before, I have cleithrophobia. It’s kind of like claustrophobia but it’s a fear of being trapped.”
“Come on,” he scoffed and the dismissive tone in his voice set her teeth on edge. “You expect me to believe that? It’s entirely too conveniently specific to your situation. Anyway, you’re hardly in a tiny prison cell. You have a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. Beautiful views, windows that open and close. You’re hardly trapped in a small enclosed space.”
“But I can’t leave,” she said, trying to keep the panic she could hear edging its way into her voice at bay.
“You can’t leave the room, no. But if you want to leave the house, I told you before, you’re more than welcome to try and hoof it back to town. The weather has cleared up a bit, so maybe the river would have calmed down somewhat. Although if the lake this afternoon was any indication, I doubt the river would be much better. And there’s more heavy rain forecast for Wednesday. So, if you want to leave, it’s best to do so within the next three days.”
His eyes were glued to her face, head tilted, as he waited for her response. He was still way too close for comfort.
“That’s not really a choice, is it? Stay locked in this room, or take my chances out there.”
