Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HANNAH
I’m starting to think this is a dream because that’s the only thing that makes sense.
The alternative, that my ex-stepfather, who I thought left me high and dry like everyone else in my life has, has been keeping tabs on me for the last few years and is moving me into his home without any consultation or care for my opinion, is utterly insane.
And yet, no matter how hard I pinch my thigh, I’m not waking up.
Rowan guides the car around a bend before turning into a concealed driveway I would have missed if I weren’t looking for it.
We pass through an automated gate that makes me swallow heavily. It’s so similar to the one at my grandfather’s home, the one that kept me prisoner for so many years.
Is that what Rowan intends to do?
I press my eyes closed and drag a deep breath into my lungs.
He wouldn’t do something like that.
The man I remember was nothing but kind to me.
Until he left, I remind myself.
Asher flits into my mind, and my chest tightens. I need to let him know where I am, and I really need to apologize for going on a date with another man without telling him.
He pulls into the garage but doesn’t immediately move to get out of the car. There’s a tension burning between us, one that has been constant since those words passed his lips.
“No, Hannah. You haven’t seen me. But I’ve seen you plenty.”
His words have played over and over like a broken record, each time making less sense than the last. Maybe it’s a mixture of not having eaten since Asher delivered my egg bites this morning and the adrenaline from how Trent treated me.
Perhaps everything will make more sense once I’ve eaten and my fight-or-flight instincts are no longer firing.
A shiver moves through my body, causing Rowan’s dark eyes to flick up to mine. He watches me for a beat before moving into motion. “Let’s get you inside.”
He’s out of the car before I can ask to be taken back to my apartment again, leaving me with no choice but to follow him.
Maybe I’ll stay here tonight and then head home early tomorrow morning. It’s the weekend, so I don’t have any client meetings, but I do need to get some work done to get ahead for next week.
Owning your own business means you never get a day off, but that works for me.
I need to keep my mind busy at all times.
We step into the house, and I stop dead in my tracks.
The mix of dark stone and wood is practically what makes up my entire Pinterest feed, and it looks just as beautiful in real life as I’ve always imagined it would.
The expansive open space feels never-ending, with a kitchen in the far corner that looks big enough for an entire team of chefs, a living room with a huge sectional, and through a double door, I peek at what appears to be a library.
“I’ll show you to the guest room where you can get more comfortable while I make you something to eat,” Rowan says, stepping toward the grand staircase on our left.
I trail after him, too awestruck by the house to argue.
We walk down a long hallway, and I can’t help but peek into every room we pass. This place is insane and a far cry from my grandfather’s mansion.
From the outside, there are certain similarities, but after being inside for just a few moments, there’s one stark difference. It’s warm where the Malone estate is cold. This feels like a home, while that mansion was always a prison.
I follow Rowan into a room at the end of the hall and stop dead in my tracks, because if downstairs was the living area of my dreams, the dark and moody bedroom before me is everything I’ve ever wanted.
The dark navy paint is illuminated only by the small lights around the edge of the room, allowing a soft glow that soothes my mind.
The bed in the middle of the room is perhaps the largest I’ve ever seen.
The crimson sheets match the vibe of the room so perfectly that my body begs me to crawl between the soft-looking sheets and spend the rest of my life in this room.
Rowan watches me as I step toward the bed, brushing my fingertips over the soft fabric, but remains silent.
“This is your spare room?” I ask.
“Something like that,” he replies, finally tearing his eyes off me. He moves to a set of drawers on the other side of the room and pulls something out before dropping it onto the bed. “These should fit you. Get changed and come downstairs when you’re ready.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he disappears from the room.
For long moments I remain rooted in place, confusion tugging at the corners of my mind. Nothing that has happened tonight makes sense.
I mean, am I surprised my grandfather insisted I go on a date with a man who clearly has no respect for women? No. Not in the slightest. If anything, I’m surprised it’s taken so long for him to do it. But everything that has happened since Rowan appeared in front of me has been confusing as hell.
I slip my bag off my shoulder and drop it on the bed before reaching for the clothes he left for me. The soft black pajamas are similar to some I have at home. I hold the top up and frown when my eyes shift to the size and brand.
These are exactly the same as the ones I have, size included.
It’s just a coincidence, I think to myself.
I glance over my shoulder to make sure Rowan closed the door behind him before quickly changing out of my dress. It’s a relief to slip off my heels and change into something soft and comfortable, and by the time I’m stepping into the hallway, I feel like a whole new human.
One of the many reasons my mother could never bond with me is because I never showed an interest in being a perfect princess. Where she wanted to dress me like a doll, I favored jeans. Where she wanted me dressed in designer labels to show off the family’s wealth, I was happy shopping at Walmart.
I’m the black sheep of my family, and I made peace with that a long time ago.
I pad down the hallway, my feet bare against the soft carpet.
Despite the size of the house, its warmth wraps around me as I make my way down the stairs.
I’m halfway down when more than one voice catches my attention, but they’re too far away for me to hear what they’re saying.
Maybe he’s watching television while he makes me something to eat.
I pause at the bottom of the steps, my eyes snagging on a familiar bag sitting at the bottom, causing my brow to furrow.
That can’t be the one from my closet…can it?
Shaking off the ridiculous idea, I continue into the open living area.
Rowan’s voice cuts off mid-sentence when he notices me enter, his eyes darting into the pantry and back to me again.
“Hannah…”
But he doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before someone else steps into view.
“Hi, Little Doe.”