Page 26

Other than a gardener buried in her headphones, I see no one.

"Cassian, is that you?"

It's above me. Spinning around, I gaze up at one of the balconies where an achingly familiar face gazes down at me in utter confusion. My heart pounds up into my throat.

"Sabina?"

10

SABINA

Cassian, the dude from the restaurant, is here? How does that in any way make sense? I stare down at him while both hands rest on the smooth stone rail keeping me from plummeting to my death as I lean over.

He looks… beautiful.

Standing among flowers with the sun bouncing off his bronzed skin, a white sleeveless shift lifting slightly in the cool breeze and tan cargo pants clinging to legs that are way more muscular than I remember. Cassian lifts a hand to his brow, shading his eyes while he stares up at me with his mouth wide open.

"Sabina?" Confusion lilts in his voice and then he drops his hand. "Stay right there, I'll be right up."

"The doors are locked," I call back. "Unless you have a key?" Suddenly, it doesn't matter why he's here. If he can unlock the door, then escape suddenly becomes much more viable.

Cassian drops his hand to his hip and then lowers his head as he glances around himself, almost as if he's expecting a key to spawn out of the flower beds. Then he shakes his head once and runs toward the building. I lose sight of him when he disappears from view under the balcony and my heart sinks.

Cassian is here.

Sweet, kind, drop-dead gorgeous Cassian, who orders far too much tiramisu when he comes to eat at my restaurant. He's here. Wherever the hell here is. He's in this building.

Was he taken that night as well? The very fact that he's alive is a miracle, but does that mean someone found him? Did that old bastard have other people there that night who picked him up, mended him up, and then dumped him here like some kind of prisoner as well?

I almost call out for him, willing him to come back so I can ask, but there's no telling how far my voice will carry and the last thing I want to do is attract the ire of the old bastard keeping me here.

A sudden rattle arises from underneath the balcony and I leap back from the edge in alarm. The rattle is followed by a grunt, then a breathless gasp and a groan, then more rattles. Suddenly, a hand appears in the gaps between the railing at the bottom of the balcony, then another joins it, and together, they grip the smooth stone rails.

"What the…?"

Another grunt followed by a heaving breath and the hands jerk upward, then are quickly joined by a foot several spaces long. Cassian's face follows a few seconds later and he hauls himself up onto the railing, then collapses down onto the balcony with a heaving pant.

"Cassian!" I dart toward him and crash down onto my knees as his side. "What the hell are you doing?"

"There's a… trellis… underneath the… the balcony." He pants heavily. "So I climbed it." Gasp after gasp follows while he lies there with his eyes closed, catching his breath. "Fuck. Doc told me not to do anything strenuous."

I glance down at his legs. "Are you… Oh, my God, are you okay? Are you really here or am I going crazy?" All these days in silent captivity have surely done a number on my psyche, so I won't be surprised if Cassian turns out to be nothing more than a heat stroke-induced mirage.

Finally, he opens his eyes and flashes me a warm, charming smile that makes my racing heart skip a beat. "I'm here," he says, his voice steady now that he's caught his breath. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Me?" I fall back onto my ass. "You're the one who got shot! I thought… oh, my God, for so long I thought you were dead."

"Not dead," Cassian confirms as he slowly sits up. "Very much not dead."

"What the hell are you doing here? Did they take you too?" I draw my hands together against my abdomen to control the sudden flutter of panic that rises there.

"I'm looking for you, of course," Cassian replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. His gorgeous eyes, turquoise eyes with mixes of blue and green, dart all over my body and then settle on my face with such warmth that it's enough to make my shoulders sag.

Any other day, I'd be melting to have him look at me like this. His gaze carries a weight as if he never, ever expected to see me again and there's a relief there that I'm almost scared to acknowledge.

I have no one. The very idea that he would come looking for me is strange enough because I held no hope that anyone would look for me. I curl my fingers tighter against my palms and stare back at him.

"You… you came looking for me?"