Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Ariana
It was hard to call this a guesthouse.
The ceilings stretched high enough to swallow sound.
Afternoon light spilled through the tall windows, catching on the polished floors and the faint specks of dust dancing in the air.
Everything smelled faintly of fresh linen — expensive, clean, impersonal.
It was probably twice the size of the house I grew up in, but what mattered most wasn’t the luxury.
It was the space.
Space to think.
Space to breathe.
Space from Henry.
Especially after he let me go so easily. I’d expected a fight. Another argument. For him to prove what I’d spent all day convincing myself of.
That he was exactly like Victor.
But that didn’t happen.
He let me go, even though I could tell by the tension in his body it was the hardest thing he’d done in a long time.
Yet he did.
Because it was what I wanted.
What I chose.
I tossed the suitcase onto the ottoman in one of the spare bedrooms and started unpacking. I folded each item with unnecessary precision — yoga pants, soft t-shirts, everything brand-new. The kind of clothes Victor never allowed me to wear.
Of course Henry would choose them.
Or have someone choose them for me.
As if he knew what I’d been forbidden and wanted to undo it.
Or maybe he just wanted to remind me who held the power now.
I still hadn’t decided which.
“You know you don’t have to stay here,” my mom said gently as she lowered herself onto the bed. “I can manage on my own.”
“I know I don’t have to.” I refolded a t-shirt that didn’t need it, careful not to meet her eyes. “I want to.”
For a while, only the quiet rustle of fabric filled the room, accompanied by the low hum of the HVAC. I could feel her studying me with the same scrutiny she did when I was a little girl.
“You’re not just staying here to avoid a certain green-eyed, dark-haired man, are you?”
I kept my gaze trained on the t-shirt, ignoring the teasing lilt in her voice. “Henry has nothing to do with this.”
“Ari, sweetie….,” she began in a soothing tone, “I think he does. Talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s going on.”
A breath escaped me before I could stop it, long, shaky, and full of everything I’d been holding in for the past several days.
Hell, probably for the past several years.
I never thought I’d get moments like this again. Never thought my mom would be lucid enough to ask questions, let alone see me.
But because of Henry, she was here.
Because of Henry, she was getting better.
And because of Henry, I didn’t know what to feel anymore.
One second, I wanted to hate him with every fiber of my being. The next, I wanted to throw my arms around him and jump head first into all the strange feelings he brought out of me.
“I’m so confused,” I admitted, the words tumbling out. I sank down beside her, the mattress dipping under our combined weight.
“What are you confused about? It’s obvious he cares about you. Deeply.”
I twisted a loose thread from my t-shirt around my finger until it bit into the skin. “Do you remember what I told you about how we met?” My gaze lifted to hers.
“You said he was in the right place at the right time. Someone tried to hurt you, and he intervened.”
“That’s true,” I stated. “But the reason he was in the right place at the right time is because he was watching me, Mama. He wanted to hurt me. To get to Victor.”
Her eyes sharpened, her posture going still. “Did he hurt you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Here’s this man who admitted he planned to abduct me to hurt Victor. So what if he intervened when someone Victor hired tried to do the same thing?”
Her expression changed, eyes widening as my words registered in her brain. “Victor did that?”
“Victor’s done a lot of horrible things,” I muttered under my breath, unsure if I was ready to discuss the last ten years in detail.
But I didn’t have to.
My mother took my hand and squeezed, her fingers thin but steady.
As if she already knew everything I’d endured.
Everything I’d survived.
“And I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she whispered, her eyes glistening. “Why did Henry want to hurt him? Apart from Victor being a worthless piece of shit.”
“He thinks Victor had something to do with his daughter’s death.”
“Henry has a daughter?”
“He did.” I smiled sadly. “Her body was found in a suite at Victor’s hotel in Santa Monica a few months ago.
It was ruled a suicide. But according to her brother, she’d been seeing someone older.
Someone named Victor. Henry also found a payment from Victor to a DA around that time.
He thinks Victor killed her and paid to cover it up. ”
“I see.” Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, slow and thoughtful. “And because of your…unconventional beginnings, you’re not sure you can trust him.”
“Can you blame me? I trusted Victor in the beginning, too.” My throat tightened. “He ended up being the monster you warned me about. I should have listened to you.”
“Hey.” She squeezed again, firmer this time. “That’s no way to live, baby. Regret’s too heavy a thing to carry. We can’t change the past. We can only use it to navigate what comes next.” Her eyes softened. “I told you yesterday. Listen to your heart.”
“I’m not sure I can trust my heart.”
“Do me a favor and close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re stuck in your head.” Her smile grew wistful. “You’re like your father that way. He’d get lost up there too, turning problems over until he couldn’t see the answer that had been right in front of him all along. But some choices need the heart, not the head. So… Close. Your. Eyes.”
I sighed, not seeing how this could help.
My mother had always been a little woo-woo, as she called it. Psychics. Meditation circles. Tarot decks on the kitchen table. She used to drag me to yoga class on Saturdays, where we’d sit cross-legged and breathe while I tried not to roll my eyes.
After she started slipping away, I longed to have those Saturday morning yoga classes again.
So instead of insisting this wouldn’t make a world of difference, I did as she asked and closed my eyes.
“What are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m feeling like I’d rather have my eyes open.”
She playfully swatted my arm. “Focus. Think about the time you’ve spent with Henry. What color do you see?”
“Color?” I arched a brow. “All I see is black. Because my eyes are closed.”
“Take a deep breath. Inhale for three, exhale for four.” Her voice turned calm and rhythmic. “Push out all the negativity that’s been festering, blocking your inner eye.”
For once, I didn’t tell her there was no such thing, inhaling for three before pushing out a long exhale.
It reminded me of that first night in the cabin. The panic that had consumed me, threatening to suffocate me.
But then Henry’s voice had broken through the chaos, low and steady, his touch grounding me when I thought I’d never breathe again.
“Green,” I whispered. “I see green.”
She breathed out a soft ah. “Green.”
My eyes snapped open. “Is that bad?”
Her face lit up. “Just the opposite. Green is filled with positive energy, Ari. It represents harmony, balance, rebirth, security.” Her smile deepened.
“It’s the color of growth. If you see green when you think of Henry, that’s your heart telling you to trust him.
That he’ll give you the peace you crave. ”
I jumped to my feet, pacing the length of the room. “He’s still keeping me prisoner here.”
She gestured around us, her eyes twinkling. “I don’t see bars on the windows. And that door looks plenty open.”
“He won’t let me leave the property.”
“For good reason.” Her gaze briefly floated to the bandage at my temple. “Victor sent dangerous men after you. Let’s not forget everything else Victor’s done to you. And to me.” Her throat worked on a swallow. “He’s only trying to keep you safe.”
I parted my lips to argue my point further.
What was my point?
That freedom mattered more than safety?
That I didn’t want to need Henry, even if I already did?
I didn’t know.
All I did know was that I was petrified of falling into the same trap I did with Victor.
Petrified of losing what little sense of self I’d regained.
Petrified of letting another man control me.
But was Henry controlling me?
“You may not like it…” Mom stood and grabbed my hand. “But I’m grateful. Victor Kane has already taken so much from us. If this is the price to make sure he can’t take any more, I’ll gladly pay it.” She squeezed my hand again.
I looked past her for a long moment, torn between my head and my heart.
The former whispered caution.
The latter whispered green.
“What do you suggest I do? Tell him I’m content being his prisoner?” I plopped onto the mattress.
“I didn’t say that.” She sat beside me once more. “You need to make him work for it a little.”
I frowned. “Work for it?”
She nodded, grinning mischievously. “Every good romantic hero has to grovel. And that man looks like he’s capable of an epic one when it comes to you.”
For a heartbeat, I just stared at her. Then a laugh broke free, shaky but real. I threw my arms around her, squeezing her tightly.
“I’ve missed you.”
She hugged me back, her breath warm against my skin. “I’ve missed me, too.”