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I lifted my head. “Yes?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

I turned away. “Get me home, Rafe. Now.”

The chuckle that followed told me exactly how little he believed me.

25

NYSSA

I shifted in Alaric’s seat and stared at the darkened study window for the tenth time. The old clock ticked slowly. Deliberately. Mockingly. I tried not to look at it. Failed. Again.

Where was he?

He should be home by now.

I shivered, bare under the cotton. But I wasn’t putting anything else on. I wanted him to notice me… and the shirt I stole from his closet. I glanced at the window and stared at the darkness.

Hmm…

I leaned back, lifted my leg with two hands and placed it against the edge of his desk.

What else could I touch?

His things. I yanked out his top drawer, found a pen and a notebook.

What’s this for?

I opened it, read the list at the top.

Things Nyssa loves.

It was in his lopsided handwriting. The same one in the front of the Phantom of the Opera book he gave me.

Fruit. Sliced thin. She loves pears most.

Tea. Hot. Strong. Especially on the days she has nightmares.

Socks. Thick wool ones. Pretends she doesn’t get cold.

The window seat in the west wing when it rains.

I stilled. He knew that? How?

The Phantom of the Opera. Reads the same pages over and over.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. There’s no way he knew that. No way he…

This was Alaric.

He knew everything.

I kept reading.