Prologue #3
Ahh. That was what he was worried about? That Fergus might be angry? Why? Because someone else was giving his wife a gift?
No.
It was more likely that Fergus would view this as a weakness in his son.
As kindness.
Angie couldn’t afford kindness. She needed to be hard. To be all edges and barbed wire if she was going to get out of here.
So she shrugged. “Why would I tell anyone and risk them taking the books from me? No skin off my nose if he wants to spend his money on me.”
It kind of hurt to be this . . . hard. To sound selfish and uncaring.
She really wasn’t that person.
But sometimes life shaped you that way. Or you had to pretend to be someone you weren’t in order to keep your soft parts protected.
“Good. Because if you fuck Jared over for this, I will come back and I will hurt you.”
A shudder ran through her at those words. He might look and sound mild-mannered.
But that was the most honest thing he’d said to her.
She was hungry.
Angie tried to never leave her room unless she was summoned. That way Fergus might forget she even existed.
But yesterday all the food she’d stored away had run out. She’d been rationing it, of course. Just eating a few things each day.
However, now she had to sneak out and grab some more. She’d waited until it was two in the morning to make her move.
Sometimes Fergus was still awake at this time. Sometimes, he’d just be getting home. But it was less risky than any other time.
Grabbing a bag and dressing in her darkest clothes, she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.
So far. So good.
The house was quiet. Cold.
She stuffed her bag full of snack food and fruit. A loaf of bread. Some butter. Ooh, cold cuts. She just took a few slices. She’d make herself a sandwich tonight.
Her hand brushed by a bag of coffee beans. God, she missed coffee so much.
But she knew if she tried to make some, that someone might hear her.
Instead, she took two of the iced coffees she found in the fridge.
“Those are mine.”
She jumped with a cry that she quickly muffled and dropped the iced coffees on the floor. Thankfully, neither of them broke. Turning, she stared at the man leaning against the breakfast bar.
Surprise filled her. “What are you doing here?” Angie winced after making that demand. Why did she speak to him like that? Was she insane?
What if he decided to punish her for her insolence?
It’s just that it had been months since she’d last seen him and she hadn’t realized he was back.
She swallowed heavily and took a step back.
“This is my family home. What are you doing?” Jared said as he studied her.
“I live here,” she replied shakily.
Unfortunately.
“I will rephrase.” He took a step forward. She took another back. “Why are you in the kitchen, stealing food at two in the morning? Why do you look like you’ve lost weight? Why are you staring at me like you think I’m going to attack you?”
“I was hungry,” she managed to get out as he took another step toward her and she moved, banging into the cupboard behind her.
Shit.
Fuck.
What was she going to do?
“Really? You must be starving.”
She was. Her stomach took that moment to growl.
“You’re not eating food in the dining room. No breakfast, lunch, or dinner.”
Shit. How long had he been back? She had no idea where he lived most of the time, this was only her second time talking to him.
He seemed different than last time, though. Colder.
Scarier.
Moving even closer, he placed his hands on the cupboard door behind her. Then he leaned in. “You trying to avoid my father?”
She knew better than to admit it.
“I don’t blame you if you are. You’re scared of him.”
It wasn’t a question. She still couldn’t answer.
Where was the Jared who had offered her a lock for her door? Sent her books to read?
This Jared made her heart race.
Even as she noticed how sexy he was in his white shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, displaying a smattering of chest hair and tanned skin.
He seemed so strong, so confident.
So gorgeous.
Jared ran a finger down her cheek before leaning in. “Do you want out yet, Angie?”
Yes.
Please.
But she forced herself to shake her head because she still had no idea if he was a spy for his father. And he was acting so different than before. When he’d smiled. When he’d seemed genuinely concerned.
He brushed a finger down her cheek. “I get it. Trust is hard. And I’m not exactly in a position to help you anymore, anyway.”
Then he leaned in, kissing her.
To her shock, sparks tingled across her lips and her stomach swooped in response. What the hell was that?
She almost leaned into him, but he abruptly pulled away. His face was cold again.
“I . . . you can’t do that. I’m your father’s wife,” she forced out, making herself stay still.
He smirked at her. “Oh, I’m well aware. Be more careful next time. You should always be aware of your surroundings.” Turning, he walked out.
That was weird.
And terrifying. She touched her finger to her lips.
Yeah. Weird.
Ding-dong the bastard was gone.
Fergus Bartolli was dead.
Fucking finally.
It was time they had some good news. Especially after what had happened in Colombia.
North pushed that thought to one side. What happened had changed Jared. It had made him harder. More ruthless.
Darker.
But Fergus was dead, Jared was back in Seattle to claim his rightful place as leader of the family. And it was time to clean house.
There was just one thing North wanted to do while Jared was busy. He snuck up the stairs. No one would have thought to have told her, he was sure.
Staff were rushing through the house, looking terrified, probably wondering what this meant for them.
If this meant they were free.
But they should know that when you signed on to work for the Bartolli family it was for life. He moved up the stairs and into her room. It was dark. There wasn’t even a light on under the closet door.
He strode to the closet and opened it, leaning down to cover her mouth as she tried to scream. He didn’t think she could see him.
“Be quiet.” He disguised his voice.
He didn’t know why he didn’t want her knowing it was him. Maybe because he knew Jared would beat his ass for this.
Perhaps he’d even go further than that.
Who knew?
But gut instinct told him to get her out. So he was going with it.
“Fergus Bartolli is dead. You need to leave. Now. Don’t even take any clothes. Here is a grand. Don’t ever come back.”
He drew the money that he’d put in his pocket and shoved it in her hand.
There was a strange spark inside him. Tiny and he barely felt it.
Was it pity?
Regret?
No.
This was just what had to be done.
Angie was barely awake.
She stared down at the money in her hand. The person was already gone, and she’d turned on the closet light.
Was he . . . was he telling the truth?
Was Fergus dead?
If so, it was her every wish come true. She’d never expect another Christmas present or wish on a falling star.
Not that she’d ever really had Christmas presents. Or wished on many falling stars. You didn’t see a lot of stars in the middle of the city.
But what if it was a lie? What if it was a way to trick her? Test her?
Her breathing hitched.
Could she go through it again? Would she survive his punishment?
A whimper escaped her.
Get it together, Angie.
Why would he trick you like this?
Because he was a sadistic fucking asshole, that’s why.
And yet . . . she still found herself getting dressed. Pulling on shoes and a jacket. Grabbing Wally, her whale, from his hiding spot.
This might be her only chance at freedom. Her other plan hadn’t worked, so this was it.
She crept out into the hallway. It was silent. Too silent.
What time was it?
She had no clue. But it was still dark outside. Instead of heading to the main stairs, she moved toward the staff ones at the back of the mansion. This was an old house, built a long time ago when people wanted the staff to have a separate entrance and stairwell.
To be neither seen nor heard.
As she moved down the stairs and toward the back door, she expected someone to grab her at any moment, to drag her toward the basement.
No one here would care.
No one would help her.
She knew that for sure. As she reached the back door she heard voices approaching. She probably could have made it out in time, but what if she didn’t?
Instead, she crept into a small cloak room and held the door slightly open so she could see who it was.
“Oh my God! Can you believe that he’s actually dead?” a woman’s voice asked.
“No! Apparently he was found shot dead. No one knows who did it,” her companion replied.
“Well, not to speak ill of the dead . . .”
“Shh,” the second woman snapped. “You can’t say anything like that around here. You never know who will be listening in.”
They walked past and she took her chance.
This was it.
She was free.
Angie knew it was going to be hard to get off the grounds undetected. She just had to hope that everyone was so preoccupied with Fergus’s death that they weren’t at their posts.
Or that whoever helped her ran interference.
However, she knew that she couldn’t rely on that.
From now on, she was on her own.
Wait. Where was she? She stopped and spun around. Was she even going the right way?
She had the worst sense of direction.
Loud shouts that sounded like they were getting closer had her jumping in fright. She took off, but Wally got snagged by something as she moved and flew out of her hand.
Pausing, she looked around for him.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Those voices grew closer.
Go, Angie!
With a sob, she took off, leaving her best friend behind.
Angie was pretty sure this motel room was infested with fleas.
Because she was covered in itchy bites.
God. She was so miserable.
She was trying to make her money last because she had no ID, no job experience, and very few belongings. She’d had to buy a few things to get by, but they could all fit in a shopping bag.
This sucked.
She’d managed to get a job under the table cleaning a bar at night, but it was awful.
This wasn’t the life she’d thought she would live.
A knock on the door startled her. Who would knock on her door? No one knew where she was.
Unless . . . had Jared found her?
Moving over to the door, she tried to check through the peephole, but the person was standing in the shadows.
She knew she shouldn’t open the door. But for some reason she did it anyway.
The man didn’t move. She still couldn’t see his face, but she could feel the weight of his gaze.
“Well. You look like you’re having fun,” he drawled.
“I think you’re at the wrong door.”
“Oh no, I’m not. I’m never wrong. You’re Angie Bartolli.”
Her heart pounded. This was it. She’d been found. “Jared sent you?”
“Jared? Nope. I don’t work for him. I work for someone else. And, believe it or not, I’m here to help you.”
She shook her head. “No one ever helps me.” She was starting to wonder if the man who’d helped her escape had actually been helping her. Or if he’d just wanted her gone.
“Well, today is the day that changes. So, Angie Bartolli, how would you like to come with me? I’ll set you up in a nice house, give you plenty of money, and keep you safe.”
“Hard pass,” she said.
“You know you won’t last long on your own, right? Even if Jared Bartolli isn’t looking for you, the rest of the family might be. And what have you got? A few hundred dollars to your name?”
“Who are you?”
“A friend who wants to help.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got options. Plans.”
None. She had none.
“Yes? Do they involve going to your sister?” the man asked smoothly.
How did he know about her sister?
Was he trying to find Keira? Did he want to harm her?
Angie had to protect her.
“My sister? I don’t have a sister.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Not much lost love between you, then?”
“If you are talking about Keira then you should know that we’re not blood related. And I have nothing to do with her anymore. I . . . I hate her.”
“I always found that the best relationships are the ones we have with people who aren’t blood. So you won’t be going to her?”
“No.”
“Come with me. I’ll give you a house and my protection. Everything you need.”
“Why? From the goodness of your heart?” she asked sarcastically. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that it’s no strings attached.”
“Oh no. There are always strings. I have my own reasons for doing this. I really don’t have much of a heart. But if you come with me, no one will touch you. Including me.”
“What reasons do you have for wanting me?” she asked.
“You’re a piece of the puzzle, Angie. And I like to solve all of my puzzles.”
This was insane.
She should say no. She could be leaving one prison for another. But did she really have much choice? This wasn’t living. Even if this guy killed her he’d be putting her out of her misery.
“Fine,” she said, making up her mind. “Let’s go.”
“Good. Don’t worry about your stuff, I’ll get you more.”
“Wait,” she said as they left the motel room. “What is your name?”
“Hello, Angie. I’m the Fox.”