Chapter 6
Marigold startled awake when Gavin’s deep voice rumbled close by. She blinked, disoriented, finding herself still on the couch, a blanket she didn’t remember pulled over her shoulders.
“Easy,” Gavin said, crouching beside her. He’d traded his sports jacket for a more casual windbreaker, but his presence was no less commanding. “You nodded off. That’s a good thing. Your body needed rest.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
He held up a hand. “No need to apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. What you need is rest. Real rest. Somewhere safe.”
Safe. That word again. Every time he said it, it sounded less like a lie and more like a promise. She sat up slowly, clutching the blanket.
“I have nowhere else to go. Where can I be safe?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve made arrangements. If you’ll trust me, I’ll give you a safe place to stay for as long as you wish it.”
“You will? Where?” Hope dawned in her heart as she looked at him. He was so serious. But she had a good feeling about him.
“Downtown, in one of the Clan’s secure residences.” He rose to his full height, towering over her but not menacing. “You’ll have your own quarters there. There’s a large penthouse suite. It’s been used before for visiting bigwigs, but right now, it’s yours if you want it.”
“Mine?” The word felt foreign on her tongue. She’d never had anything that was hers.
His gaze softened, though his jaw was still tight with control. “Yours. Though I’ll be staying there too. For your protection, I assure you, until we know more about your situation and just how hot you are.”
“Hot?” She didn’t understand what he meant.
“How much effort your family is putting in to finding you,” he clarified. “You should probably lay low for a few days while you recover from your escape. Don’t leave the house until we find out what sort of price, if any, they’ve put on your head.”
“A price on my head?” She gulped. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but it stunned her to think about the levels to which her relatives might stoop to now that she’d finally managed to escape.
Gavin shrugged. “It’s possible. I really wouldn’t put anything past the Rollinses, but I’ll be investigating. We won’t be just sitting still, hiding out. I’ll be actively working your case, even as I watch over your safety.”
Her pulse jumped. He’d be staying with her.
In the same place. It should have frightened her.
Instead, something deep in her chest sparked to life.
It was an attraction she could not deny, though it made little sense to her spinning mind.
It made all the sense in the world, though, to her vulnerable heart.
*
The ride over to the residence was surreal.
Gavin escorted her through the bustling Kinkaid office building, one large hand steady at the small of her back, guiding her past curious shifters who knew better than to ask questions.
No one touched her. No one jeered or sniffed disdainfully in her direction.
She wasn’t being dragged, shoved, or held prisoner.
He was simply escorting her politely through the building. It was a new and exciting experience.
Outside, a sleek black SUV waited, a driver already at the wheel. Gavin opened the rear door for her and gestured her inside. The simple courtesy nearly undid her. She climbed in, clutching her dirty jacket around her, while Gavin slid in beside her.
The city lights glittered as they drove, reflections dancing over the tinted windows.
Marigold pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching people on sidewalks, couples holding hands, friends laughing, children tugging at their parents.
A normal world. A world she had only glimpsed from afar.
Her throat ached. “I used to dream about this,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
“What’s that?” Gavin asked, his voice quiet.
“Being out here. Just walking down a street without someone watching me to make sure I didn’t escape. Having some control over my own life. Maybe buying a sandwich at a shop, instead of having fancy food served by condescending servants.” She shook her head. “It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly.” His tone was rough, like gravel and velvet all at once. “It’s human. And it’s exactly what they stole from you. You’ll get it back.”
The certainty in his voice almost made her believe it.
*
The penthouse was nothing like the gilded cages she’d known. Gavin led her through the secure underground garage and into a private elevator. A coded keycard unlocked the ride, whisking them up past dozens of floors until the doors opened onto a quiet, spacious suite.
Marigold froze in the doorway.
Warm golden light bathed polished wood floors. Plush furniture filled a wide living area, opening into a gleaming kitchen. A balcony overlooked the sparkling city skyline. It was too much. Too big. Too free.
“I can’t…” Her voice cracked. “This isn’t for me.”
Gavin’s hand brushed her elbow, grounding her. “It’s yours, for now. For as long as you need it. Get used to it, Goldie.”
She turned toward him, searching his face for mockery, but found only stubborn resolve. Her chest tightened. No one had ever allowed her to have her own space before. No one had ever looked at her like she belonged anywhere instead of being an interloper in their domain.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted in a whisper.
“You don’t have to know right away. This is new to you.” He guided her farther into the suite. “Start with the basics. Eat. Sleep. Breathe. The rest will come.”
She nodded, a bit overwhelmed.
As Gavin moved about, Marigold followed him.
She felt the fragile edges of hope settle inside her chest as he showed her around the place.
She wondered what it might mean that the one holding the key to that hope, and this magnificent apartment, was Gavin Kinkaid.
He moved through the penthouse with purposeful strides, but his voice was calm and low as he guided her through a tour of the various amenities.
“This is the kitchen.” He pushed open the door, revealing polished countertops, gleaming appliances, and a refrigerator that hummed quietly in the corner.
He tugged it open with one hand. “I had it stocked before we came over, but we can order in anything else you might want. Just let me know. And feel free to help yourself whenever you want. Day or night.”
Marigold froze, staring at the shelves lined with milk, juice, fresh fruit, containers of leftovers, neatly wrapped cuts of meat, eggs, vegetables, jars of condiments. The freezer held neat stacks of meals, frozen vegetables, and bags of frozen berries.
“You mean I can just take something? Without asking?” Her voice was a whisper, incredulous.
“Exactly that.” He closed the fridge gently. “If you’re hungry, you eat. No asking permission. No conditions.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. She thought of the times she’d been denied meals until she cooperated, until she gave up her power, until she’d learned her lesson.
She thought of being monitored even when she drank water.
Now this man—this stranger—was telling her she could simply eat whenever and whatever she wanted?
Her eyes prickled, and she turned away before he could see the tears.
Gavin gestured toward the hall. “Come on. Let me show you where you’ll sleep.”
The bedroom was warm and inviting, with soft golden lamplight pooling over a large bed piled with pillows and thick blankets. A closet door stood ajar, and inside, she saw neatly arranged hangers with a few simple blouses, soft cotton sleepwear, jeans, underthings.
Her breath caught.
“These should be your size,” Gavin said, crossing his arms. “Tomorrow, we’ll order more. Whatever you want. But this will get you through tonight and the morning.”
She touched one of the shirts reverently, as if it might vanish. “Thank you,” she whispered, meaning it more deeply than he could know.
He inclined his head, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than before. “Bathroom’s through here.”
He pushed open the en suite door, revealing marble counters, a wide mirror, and a deep soaking tub with gleaming fixtures.
Little bottles of soap and shampoo were arranged neatly along the side.
Marigold stepped inside, unable to help herself.
She’d never seen anything so luxurious. It was like stepping into the pages of a lifestyle magazine.
“You can take your time cleaning up,” Gavin said behind her, his tone low but firm. “Lock the door if it makes you feel better. When you’re done, I’ll be in the living room. No one will disturb you here.”
She turned, unsure what to say. “You’re…leaving me alone?”
One corner of his mouth lifted, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “You’re not a prisoner here, Marigold. You never will be. This is your space.”
Her chest tightened, something hot and aching building inside her. She managed a nod.
“Good. Take a bath. Or a shower, if you prefer that. Get into some pajamas. Relax. You’ll feel more yourself after.” With that, he withdrew, leaving her with the soft echo of the door clicking shut.
Steam curled around her as Marigold sank into the bath. She closed her eyes and let the hot water seep into her sore muscles, realizing the ache in her body wasn’t from bruises or beatings. It was from exhaustion, hunger, and fear. Slowly, those things were being soothed away by the hot water.
Much later, she changed into soft cotton sleepwear that fit a bit snug, but comfortable, and padded into the bedroom on bare feet. The bed looked impossibly inviting. She hesitated, torn between curling up immediately and not daring to believe she was allowed to do whatever she wished.
Outside her door, she heard faint movement. Curious, she crept to the door and peeked.