Chapter 16
THEA
Iwake to voices.
They’re low and tense, coming from somewhere beyond the door to the bedroom.
For a moment, I’m totally disoriented. Then I remember I’m in Gabriel’s bedroom. Memories of last night come flooding back.
I’m yours.
My stomach twists.
The voices attract my attention again. It almost sounds like an argument.
I slide out of bed, realizing I’m not wearing a single thing.
There’s a dresser at the far end of the room.
I hurry over, pulling open drawers until I find one filled with neatly folded t-shirts. I pluck one out and throw it on.
It’s clean, but it still smells like him. I close my eyes for a moment, let the scent wash over me. Then I walk over to the door and open it, just a crack. The voices become louder, but I still can’t make out what’s being said.
I push the door open just enough to slip out and pad into the hallway. The voices lead me to an adjacent bedroom, the door shut. I still can’t make out the words, but I recognize who’s speaking—Gabriel and Oscar.
I press my ear against the wood of the door and listen.
“You cannot keep her here indefinitely,” Oscar says. His voice is strained, worried. “Kolya has made his intentions clear. The moment she steps outside of these walls, the moment he can get to her—”
“She won’t. And he won’t.”
“But if she does.”
“She won’t.”
“Gabriel, per favore. Be reasonable. Move her somewhere Kolya cannot reach. A safe house. Out of the city, the state. Perhaps even out of the country.”
“I don’t need to move her anywhere, Oscar. I have it covered.”
A pause.
“Covered how?”
“I have a plan. I’ve had a plan for months.”
My blood turns to ice. Months. That’s a hell of a lot longer than I’ve been here. What the fuck is going on?
“And I’m assuming that she does not know about this plan,” Oscar replies. “That for all she knows, you’ve only been in her life since the night of the auction.”
“She knows what she needs to know. Any more than that, and it could give Kolya an advantage, a chance to get close to her.”
Oscar snorts. “So you lie to her. You keep her in the dark while using her as… what? Bait? Leverage?”
“No. She’s here to be protected. Simple as that. And with her here, under my watch, I can make sure the plan goes through.”
Oscar sighs heavily. “Protection, until you pull her out like a tool. What happens when she learns all of this, Gabriel?”
“I’ll deal with it then. Once Kolya is neutralized, I’ll tell her everything.”
“She’ll hate you when she learns the truth.”
“I know. And I’m prepared for that.”
“She deserves better than this,” Oscar says quietly.
“She deserves to live.” Gabriel’s tone is harsh, final.
“I’m doing whatever it takes to keep her alive.
Don’t you see? Everything else—including how she feels about me personally—is secondary.
” A pause. “There won’t be another word spoken on the matter.
I’m going to do what needs to be done. Now, I need to get back before she wakes up. ”
I stumble away from the door, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Months. He’s been watching me for months—before the auction, before Sylvie, before any of this.
Which means what? The auction wasn’t random? That he knew I’d be there? That he planned the whole thing? Did he arrange to drug me? To have me up on that stage so he could buy me?
My mind races as I try to piece together the fragments that don’t quite fit but feel horrifying anyway.
Whatever it is, I don’t want to be a part of it.
Once Kolya is neutralized, I’ll tell her everything.
My breathing quickens. Panic claws up my throat. My cheeks feel hot.
I hear footsteps and realize that I don’t have the luxury of standing around to think it all over.
I hurry back into bed, slipping out of his shirt and tossing it on the floor with the rest of our clothes.
I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow, even though my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.
The door opens, then closes softly. I hear him approach, the mattress dipping as Gabriel slides back into bed beside me. His arm comes around my waist, pulling me against him.
“Dormi, bella,” he murmurs against my back. “Sleep. It’s still early.”
I keep my eyes closed and my breathing even.
And wait.
It takes about twenty minutes of lying perfectly still while Gabriel’s breathing deepens and evens out, his hold on me relaxing just enough to let me know that he’s asleep.
I spend the time wondering just who the hell this man is, this man who demands I give myself to him in a way I’ve never done before. Last night, the idea had seemed so thrilling. But now, it’s anything but.
For all I know, everything he’s told me is a lie.
I move out slowly from under his arm, feeling a rush of relief the instant he’s no longer touching me.
Then I slip back into the t-shirt and fish my panties out from the heap of the burgundy dress on the floor. I let my gaze linger on it for a moment, considering how this thing that had seemed so magical last night now looks like nothing but a pile of fabric.
I slip out into the hallway, peeking both ways to make sure Oscar or any other member of the staff isn’t around. When I confirm the coast is clear, I hurry down the hall and rush down the stairs to my room.
My hands are shaking by the time I make it there.
Once the door’s shut, I slip out of Gabriel’s shirt and pull on some jeans, a sweater, and a pair of sneakers from the rack in the walk-in.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a gorgeous leather Samsonite bag, and quickly stuff some more clothes into that.
The plan is to get back to my apartment, but I need to prepare, just in case.
Once I’m as ready as I’m going to be, I sling the bag over my shoulder, take one last look at the room, and leave.
The gate. The faulty latch. The vine. They’re my only hope.
I check the hallway one more time—still empty—and slip downstairs.
The kitchen is quiet. Breakfast isn’t for another hour. The landscapers are outside, but the back garden is massive. If I’m fast, if I’m quiet…
I ease open the servant’s door and step out into the garden, into the cold morning air. The sky is gray, overcast—the kind of dawn that promises rain.
I move quickly across the lawn, my sneakers silent on the dew-wet grass. I hurry past the greenhouse, the servant’s quarters, past the towering stone fountain in the center of the garden.
I’m at the gate. My heart is in my throat as I reach for the handle. The head gardener wasn’t supposed to come yet for his inspection, but anything could’ve happened.
Please. Please let it still be broken.
I grab the handle and pull.
It swings open. The relief that floods through me is so intense that I almost sob.
After slipping through, I shut the gate softly behind me and start running.
My lungs burn, my legs ache, but I don’t stop until I reach the road. The cars whooshing back and forth is a sensory overload compared to the quiet isolation of the mansion.
After what seems like forever, a cab stops and I rush inside, as if Gabriel were right behind me, ready to wrap those big arms around me and pull me screaming back to the mansion.
“1356 Putnam,” I tell the driver, the words sounding like they’re being spoken by someone else.
The taxi drops me off in front of a familiar building in Bushwick, with a gray brick facade and a rusted fire escape.
Home.
I don’t have my keys. I don’t have money to pay the driver either, not on me, at least. I try to tell him that my cash is upstairs, but it’s lost in translation. He curses at me in Urdu before driving off.
I stand on the sidewalk, shivering, realizing I have no idea what to do next. I don’t have my phone, my wallet, or a plan—just the overwhelming worry that I might’ve made a terrible mistake.
Then again, maybe the terrible mistake was trusting Gabriel in the first place.
I don’t know anymore.
All I know is that I’m on the run.
And I can’t stop.