Page 1 of Bound

CHAPTER ONE

Erin

Iceland looks like the end of the world.

No…

It feels like we’re at the end of the world. We’ve been pushed so far from our lives in New York that it feels a bit like this trip signifies the end of our world as well. We’ve been chased around the globe by the past.

And now, we’re here.

Black land. White sky. Gray ocean splitting itself open against volcanic rocks. The house rises from the cliff like someone with a lot of money wanted a haunted getaway by the sea.

I’m guessing it’s gorgeous in summer.

Right now, it’s all cold and stone and wind and fog and jagged cliffs. Huge panes of glass face the sea. Wide black frames hold those windows together. A low dark metal roof slopes against the wind.

Lights glow inside, the only warmth against the endless gray sky.

Beautiful. Hard. Cold. Remote. Isolated. Lonely. Dark.

It is exactly the place a man like Lucian Bachman would build to keep his dark heart cold after almost burning in that fire.

But we bring the party.

We’ve more than survived our first full day here.

We’re thriving.

Cass and I mostly because we must hold it together for Ryan. And his sweet, sticky hugs are getting us through the day.

He brings a levity to the place I’m not sure we could breathe without.

Currently, his favorite pastime is flying around the place with that Superman towel tied around his neck in a makeshift cape.

We’re making it work.

Still, with the round-the-clock security, it’s a little suffocating.

Sometimes, I need air.

Right now, I’m standing in the cold, a scarf covering the lower half of my face as I brace against the wind. Cass and I came out here to let Ryan play and hopefully burn off some of his energy before dinner.

And we’re in desperate need of a sister debrief — a private chat. To our disappointment, a tiny army came with us.

There is no such thing as privacy in Lucian Bachman’s world.

Under the floodlights, I stand beside the armored SUV with Lucian’s oversized wool coat pulled tight around me and try not to shiver.

Lucian has not only trapped us in a bubble of security but also wrapped us in layer upon layer of protection from the weather. I’m wearing a couple grand worth of accessories from our shopping spree at Red Shutters: a tan-and-black Burberry checked scarf and glove set in a cashmere blend. Soft tan fleece-lined Hermès Norte boots cover my calves, and a black Moncler beanie Lucian pulled onto my head on my way out the door.

Cass is bundled in a cream coat with a pale orange scarf looped around her neck and a white hat with the largest pom-pom I’ve ever seen perched on the top of her head. She sits beside me as we watch a bundled-up Ryan try to make a snowball in his thickly padded gloves.

I stare out at the snow-scattered Icelandic beach below the cliff. “It looks like another planet.”

“Feels like it too,” she mutters, then glances at me. “No offense to your boyfriend’s kidnapping-vacation aesthetic.”

“He did not kidnap us.”