47. Haven
Chapter 47
Haven
“This definitely feels like a kidnapping.” We left Agony Hollow behind half an hour ago. The sky’s only grown darker since, but we pass through a few shafts of angelic light on our way out of town. I like to think it means there’s a possibility I’m not ending up hacked to pieces in a shallow grave somewhere.
I should be freaking the fuck out, but honestly, I’m hoping Professor Rooke will just keep driving until we hit a coastline.
I’ve never been to the beach.
Me and Kai planned to live there after we got married. But we also said we were going to have thirteen children, and that sure as shit isn’t happening.
He’d have to actually put his dick in me for that to happen, not just rub up on me like he did last night.
“If I’m going to prison, it’s going to be for something a hell of a lot more interesting than kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping and torture?”
“Hm. Now we’re talking.”
His musing hum makes my stomach flutter, but I try to ignore it. I’m having to ignore a lot of sensations.
Like the rising dread when I realized he was headed toward Ashwood Crossing, a town almost double the size of Agony Hollow.
I know it well.
It’s where I’ve spent the last three years of my life.
On my back, legs spread, apparently.
I thought wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag me back here. All it took was one man and his car.
Thankfully, we’re in a nice part of town. My uncle’s apartment was way on the other side, near the train tracks. Conveniently close to the station and, more importantly, the drug dealers.
There’s a chuckle in Bastian’s voice. “If you think what’s about to happen is torture, then I advise you seek counseling immediately.”
He pulls up outside a row of small businesses alongside the main road, parking so effortlessly, I’m low key convinced the car did it for him. But then he wouldn’t have swung his arm around the back of my chair and given me a wink as he reversed, I guess.
“Guess you’ll have to go back to private practice, then, Professor.”
He chuckles as he gets out of the car, throwing his hands up when I’m already out my side before he can open mine. “Are you always this independent?”
“I try.” I sniff, hands on my waist. “Now you have ten seconds to tell me what we’re doing here, or I’m screaming.”
There’s a moderate amount of traffic flowing past us. A few people walking past on their own mysterious errands. Maybe that’s why Bastian finally caves and holds up a hand.
“Honestly, I thought you’d have guessed by now.”
My gaze follows his arm—his strong, perfectly toned arm—to the sign above the shop a few yards away.
Laramie
It could have been anything from a bistro to an antique store. But if I had to take a wild guess, it’s a boutique.
The mannequins in the window are kinda a dead giveaway.
“Bastian!”
But Professor Rooke is already heading for the shop. I hurry after him, trying to catch hold of his arm, but he’s just too quick, pulling open the security door and stepping inside before I can stop him. An ozone-tainted gust of wind toys with my clothes, whipping my hair in my face as I turn to look back at the car.
Yeah, I can run.
But where the hell to?
I don’t have any money, so I can’t call a cab. And I left my phone in the Land Rover, so I can’t even call anyone.
Who’d I call, anyway? Melissa? Would she drive all the way to Ashwood Crossing to come fetch me, only to find out it’s because I had a hissy fit when Professor Rooke tried to buy me a dress for the gala?
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I hiss, still trailing after him like a lost puppy.
“About what?” He raises his hand, and one of the store clerks looks up from a rack of dresses she was busy sorting through.
She beams when she sees us and hurries over. “Afternoon. Something I can help with?”
“Yes, please. We’re attending a black-tie gala tonight, and we just found out our dry cleaning won’t be ready in time.”
Jennifer’s eyes light up, and I bet she wished she knew the name of the cleaner so she could send them a handwritten thank you note.
“Yes, yes, of course. We just received a stunning selection of gowns. Right this way.”
As soon as Jennifer turns her back, I grab Bastian’s arm. He turns to me, lips curling up. “Is there a problem?”
Lucifer must have taught this man how to smile.
“Yes, there’s a problem!” I whisper-shout. “I’m not going to this stupid fundraiser.”
“Because you don’t have a dress.” He walks after Jennifer, turning to raise his hands to the ceiling. “Problem solved.”
“That’s not why—“ I cut off because he’s already out of earshot. Unless I shout. And the cashier is staring over at me like she’s wondering if I’m going to pocket one of the shiny clutch bags I’m standing beside.
Fuck.
I hurry after Bastian, trying to get his attention without looking like a spoiled brat in need of a timeout. It doesn’t help that he’s having a full on conversation in fashionese.
I mean, I know what a silhouette is. I can guess at jewel tones.
But what the hell is an elliesaab? Is it some fancy fabric? A designer? A type of shoe?
“Bastian!” I grab his arm at the same time he turns to me, and my hand sort of slides into his now crooked elbow. I think we’re both a little surprised, because it was obviously just an automatic gesture for him.
Instead of shaking me off, he pulls his arm against his side, trapping me in place. Smiling. Eyes sparkling in the low light of the pretty chandelier above us.
Now’s when I’m supposed to be telling him I have a shift at the diner. That I don’t want to go to this gala because I’ll make an idiot of myself. That I can think of a hundred better ways to spend my time…but his eyes are too mesmerizing.
“And for you, sir?”
He turns back to Jennifer. “Let’s start with her.”
Let’s fucking not.
But then I’m being pulled along as Bastian follows the shop assistant to a fitting room near the back of the store. I feel like I’m in some Disney princess movie, because I walk straight into a huge fitting room followed by the store clerk with three gowns in her arms.
Had she just been plucking them randomly from the racks as we walked? Or had a flock of bluebirds brought them to her?
“Here we go, love. Just shout if you need a hand zipping up.” She smiles and twirls away, pulling the curtain closed behind me.
I plop down on the velvet upholstered stool and take a big breath. Then I kick off my flip-flops so I can enjoy the feel of the plush carpet between my toes.
How does this keep happening?
…or are you just not used to getting nice things?
Shit. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know what generosity feels like. I’ve had to fight and claw for every scrap I ever got. Even Kai’s generosity felt reluctant most of the time. But that’s because he had to carve his own way out in his house, too. Everything was given to Ezra, the wonder child, and Kai’s father, the genius.
Kai never told me how they’d ended up in the same trailer park as me and my dad, but he’d said it was temporary.
I didn’t believe him until he was gone.
Now I’m sitting here in the fitting room of a designer boutique and I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.
I don’t belong here. And this has nothing to do with imposter syndrome.
I am an imposter.
And any minute now, someone’s going to figure it out.
I turn to look at the dresses hanging from the rack.
Fuck.
Wouldn’t it be nice if that never happened?