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“What?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“About the sweats and stretches and stuff? Yes.”
He looked somewhat mollified as he nodded. “Good. Some acknowledgment next time.”
She saluted him smartly, “Yes, oh lord and master!”
“Christ, you’re annoying,” he grumbled. “Let’s go.”
She meekly trailed behind him, her eyes happily exploring the house as they made their way from the natatorium back to her room. He must be distracted because he hadn’t taken hold of her elbow to hastily steer her along as he’d done the previous few times she’d been allowed out of her cell.
Her eyes snagged on a framed picture of a happily smiling couple in their wedding finery and Iris finally understood what people meant when they referred to a lightbulb moment, because it felt like someone had just flicked a switch in her brain.
“This isn’t your house.” The words were out before she could curtail them, and he stopped walking abruptly. Iris careened into his hard back, but it felt like bouncing off an immovable tree trunk for all the impact her momentum had made on his sturdy frame.
“Fuck.” The soft word resonated with heartfelt regret. “You’re just incapable of minding your own business, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t realize you knew Miles Hollingsworth,” she said.
He turned toward her, clamping both hands onto her upper arms, and looming over her to glare down into her face.
She stared back at him unblinkingly, too accustomed to his bluster by now to be daunted.
“And you’re going to forget that little factoid as soon as you’re back in your room.”
“But why? It’s not like he’s some kind of mafia kingpin. The man is a genius. How do you know him?”
“You think I can’t hang out with geniuses?”
“Genii,” she corrected, just to irritate him.
“You know damned well geniuses is right too,” he ground out from between clenched teeth.
“Well, how do you know Miles Hollingsworth? Is he your financial advisor or something?”
“You know so much about him, you’d know he’s not a fucking financial advisor.”
No, he wasn’t. Miles Hollingsworth was the former CEO of Hollingsworth Holdings Inc. A powerful, wealthy, self-made man who’d founded one of the largest holding companies in Europe. He’d caused a sensation a couple of years ago when he’d effectively retired at thirty-five, married his former housekeeper, and moved to… well to here apparently.
That explained the cars in the garage. MilesH for Miles Hollingsworth. Which meant the Mini Cooper had to belong to his wife, Charity.
“Have you known him long?” Iris asked chattily, as he released one of her arms, but kept the other imprisoned to march her back to her room at twice the speed they’d been going earlier.
He didn’t reply.
“You don’t seem like you’d have much in common,” she continued, starting to huff slightly as she practically ran to keep up with his long-legged stride. “Are you renting this house or something?”
That question broke his stride and he threw her an incredulous look before shaking his head and carrying on walking.
“Why’d you look at me like that?” she asked when they finally reached her door, which he opened impatiently.
“You’re deluded if you think Miles Hollingsworth needs to rent out his home.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes no sense,” she acknowledged, chagrined.
A not-so-subtle shove between her shoulder blades caught her by surprise and sent her stumbling into the room.
