Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Ariana
“How was Blake today?” I asked Henry when he rounded the corner into the kitchen after finally getting home a little past seven.
“Getting better,” he responded, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “They want him to stay a few more days for observation, but his scans look good.”
“That’s great. I’m sure he’s looking forward to getting out of there.”
“He is.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “But they don’t want him traveling just yet, so I told him he can come stay here.”
“I assume that means we’ll be staying here, too?”
He nodded. “Is that okay? If you’d like to go back to Georgia to be with your mother, I’ll take you. But Blake’s still pretty banged up. I should be here to help him recover.”
I set the knife down and hoisted myself onto my toes, looping my arms around his shoulders. “Wherever you are is where I want to be.”
He lowered his lips to mine, his kiss soft but still full of hunger. “How the hell did I get so lucky to find you?”
“Easy.” I smirked. “You stalked me. Then kidnapped me. And despite you frustrating me to no end, I still somehow fell in love with you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a lazy smile. “We’ll have quite the story to tell the grandkids one day.”
It was an innocent statement. One I’d heard couples laugh and joke about countless times.
But it hit me differently today.
For years, my future was a prison with no escape. Just Victor. His rules. His control. His wrath.
I’d trained myself not to imagine anything beyond surviving that day. That hour. That minute.
Hope was dangerous.
It only made the cage feel smaller.
The noose around my neck to feel tighter.
The shackles around me to feel heavier.
Now I was free.
I had been since I woke up in Henry’s cabin.
Even more so now that Victor was dead.
But it still felt fragile. Like I’d soon wake up back in that gilded prison.
It would take a while for this new reality to really sink in. Especially after the hell I’d been living for the past ten years.
“We certainly will.”
Henry brushed his mouth against mine once more, then increased the space between us. “Do I have time to wash the hospital off me before we eat?”
“Of course. Take your time.”
“I’ll be quick.” He feathered one last kiss to my cheek, the warmth of his lips soothing and comforting. Then he turned and disappeared up the stairs.
I refocused my attention on preparing dinner, cutting up the meat for the Indian chicken I’d planned to make. Just as everything was simmering on the stove, the aroma of garlic and ginger filling the air, I felt a presence approach from behind.
“Smells delicious,” Henry crooned in a low voice as he brushed a kiss to the curve of my neck, his unshaven jawline scraping against my skin.
I used to think I preferred a man who was polished. Clean-cut. Perfectly tailored suit. Charming smile.
It was what attracted me to Victor all those years ago.
Now I much preferred a man who was a little rough around the edges. T-shirts stretched across broad shoulders. Stubble that left faint burn marks on my skin. A man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.
And Henry most certainly liked to get his hands dirty.
In more ways than one.
“Hope you like Indian food,” I remarked as I stirred the mixture in the pan.
“You should know by now I’m not picky.” He trailed kisses up my neck, stopping just shy of my earlobe. “Except when it comes to my women.”
I spun in his arms, meeting his gaze. The green hue of his eyes seemed even darker now, desire heating his stare.
“Is that right?”
He gave a slow nod. “I find my tastes are quite…singular in that regard.”
“How so?”
“For one, I’m a sucker for blue eyes.” His thumb swept under my lids. “Especially ones that shift from turquoise to royal to midnight.”
“That is quite specific,” I teased, draping my arms over his shoulders as Dean Martin crooned softly from the speaker, both of us swaying along to the melody.
If someone had told me a month ago I’d be dancing barefoot in the kitchen with the man who’d abducted me, I would have laughed.
But this felt right.
Everything about being with Henry did.
I kept waiting for the bottom to fall. For our bubble to burst. I knew there were still unanswered questions we had to deal with. All those women Victor abducted. Whether Sarah was alive. What Victor meant when he said we were chosen.
But I wasn’t going to worry about that right now. I was going to enjoy these rare moments of happiness whenever I could get them.
“I told you.” Henry gave a coy smile. “Singular tastes.”
“I guess so.” I waggled my brows. “What else do you look for in a woman?”
“Lips so soft I can’t stop thinking about kissing them,” he murmured, his mouth inching toward mine. When our lips met, a quiet whimper escaped before I could stop it.
“Like that?” I whispered.
He ran his thumb along my bottom lip. “Exactly like that.” His gaze lingered on my mouth, heated and intense.
“What else?”
He pinched his lips together, as if deep in thought. Then he smirked, bringing his hands to cup my breasts. “A killer rack. And you’ve definitely got one.”
I playfully swatted him away, rolling my eyes as I returned to stir the chicken mixture.
“Men. You’re all the same,” I joked. “I’ve never understood the fascination with boobs.”
“It’s because you have them.”
“I don’t have a pair of balls and yet I’m not obsessed with yours.”
He stepped behind me again, his palm sliding down my side and settling on my hip. “I can’t tell you how damn happy I am that you don’t have a pair.” He curved toward me as his hand drifted lower. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”
“About what?” I glanced over my shoulder. “You want me to have a pair of balls?”
“Absolutely not,” he answered quickly. “About being a boob man.” His mouth hovered a breath away from mine. “I think I’m much more of an ass man.”
He landed a sharp smack against my backside, and I gasped, half surprised, half breathless. Then he increased the distance between us, opening the cupboard and grabbing plates, leaving me flushed and wanting.
Like always.
After a few final stirs of the chicken, I dished everything out, and Henry carried our plates toward the dining room.
A gentle breeze blew through the curtains of the open French doors, carrying with it the comforting aroma of flowers and fresh-cut grass. In the distance, the moon glimmered on the darkened water just beyond his beautifully manicured lawn.
It was a gorgeous house, but it didn’t suit Henry.
It didn’t suit me either, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the farm in Georgia. To all the space. The smell of raw earth and even manure. Watching Cato running through the pasture.
“This is really good,” Henry said around a mouthful of chicken. “Thanks for cooking. You didn’t have to, though.”
“I don’t mind. I used to think cooking was something I had to do, but after being married to Victor, I didn’t realize how much I missed being able to cook for myself. Choose what to eat. When I eat. It still feels…strange.”
Henry reached for my hand and gave it a small squeeze.
“That bastard spent years conditioning you to behave a certain way. It’s going to take more than a few days to undo everything.
Believe me. I went through something similar after my dad died.
But you will move past it. One day, you’ll look back and barely recognize the woman you once were.
And I’ll be here every step of the way, if that’s what you want. ”
“Of course it is.”
“Good.” He treated me to a soft smile before pulling back and scooping more of the chicken onto his fork.
“Have you talked to Blake about what your next step should be?” I asked after a beat, since we were already somewhat on the topic. “About seeing if what Victor said is true and Sarah might still be alive?”
“We discussed it briefly,” he answered nonchalantly.
“And?” I sipped my wine, studying him over the rim of the glass. “Does he have any ideas?”
Henry laughed under his breath. “He’s worried I’ll waste the rest of my life chasing a ghost instead of living in the present.”
“But she’s not just a ghost,” I countered.
“If your theory is correct, Victor trafficked over a hundred women. They could still be alive. Sarah could still be alive. He said as much. And while Victor could definitely be a manipulative bastard, I can’t shake the feeling he wasn’t lying.
” I paused before continuing, “Should we go to the police with what you know? Not about what happened to Victor, but about what you found? The girls. Schaffer’s files. ”
“I’ve thought about it.” He stared into the distance for a long moment before looking back at me.
“But I’ve seen how situations like this play out.
Especially when powerful people are involved.
They’ll do any and everything to protect themselves and each other.
Don’t forget. Victor paid off a DA to falsify Sarah’s autopsy report.
There’s no telling how many other players are involved.
How deep this goes. It’s better if I try to get some answers myself first. Figure out who I can trust.”
I understood his logic.
I lived it.
It was why I never went to the authorities with what Victor had been doing to me. I knew how well connected he was. Knew nothing would get done. That it would do more harm than good. That it would put my life at risk.
So I’d remained silent.
If it weren’t for Henry intervening when he did, I probably would have still been silent.
Or worse.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know,” I offered.
“I will.”
“I mean it, Henry. You’re not alone anymore. You don’t need to carry the weight of this on your own.”
“I won’t.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I promise.”
The gesture was tender. But something about his tone felt…forced.
Or maybe I was just letting Victor get in my head again.
Henry had never been anything but honest with me.
He may not have told me everything from the beginning, like how he’d planned to abduct me for revenge but then saw another man take me so he intervened.
But he eventually came clean. Told me the truth, regardless of how I might respond. He’d earned my trust.
And my love.
So why was there this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach?
Was it merely a result of Victor’s conditioning?
Or something worse?