Chapter Six #3
There was no tightening first, no hesitation, no attempt to prove how easily he could hold her in place. His hand simply opened and fell away, and Taddeo stepped back enough to put space between them.
The reaction unsettled her more than resistance would have.
“You can walk back or you can ride,” he said, breathing harder now than his expression suggested. “I'm not dragging you.”
Isolde rubbed her wrist even though he hadn't hurt it. “And if I keep walking toward the road?”
“I'll stop you.”
“At least that's honest.”
“I haven't lied to you about that.”
“No.” Her eyes moved toward the intermittent lights beyond the trees. “You haven't.”
That was one of the problems she had not expected to have with him.
If Taddeo lied constantly, she could dismiss his words along with everything else about him.
Instead, he told the truth about the ugliest parts and left her with the more complicated task of deciding what honesty meant when it came from someone who had still taken away her freedom.
A hard shiver moved through her body.
Taddeo's attention dropped to her wet clothing. “You're freezing.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm angry.”
“You can be both.”
Another shiver made the argument pointless.
Isolde looked again toward the road and let herself calculate honestly.
She could try to run deeper into the woods and force Taddeo to chase her or call his men back.
She might gain fifty yards, maybe a hundred.
Then she would still be cold, soaked, exhausted, unfamiliar with the land, and surrounded by Bellandi security.
The attempt was over.
Pretending otherwise would not make it less true.
“Where's the car?”
Taddeo turned without any visible satisfaction, which irritated her almost as much as triumph would have.
They walked back through the trees without touching, and he adjusted his pace whenever the mud slowed her without commenting on it.
Isolde paid attention to every branch, slope, and turn because failure did not make the information she had gained useless.
The security vehicle waited beside a narrow estate track she hadn't known existed.
Nico stood by the driver's door, and his eyes met hers for less than a second before shifting away.
Whether he was embarrassed that she'd slipped past security or guilty because he'd inadvertently helped her, she couldn't tell.
Isolde climbed into the back seat on her own.
Taddeo got in beside her, and heat from the vents hit hard enough to make her chilled skin ache.
Two folded towels had been placed on the seat, so she took one and pressed it to her face before rubbing at her wet hair.
The adrenaline was already draining away, leaving exhaustion behind.
Taddeo removed his soaked coat and used the second towel to wipe rain from his face before leaning forward between the seats. “Northglass.”
Nico started the vehicle.
No one spoke during the short drive.
It took less than six minutes to reach the house.
Isolde hated knowing how close she'd been.
The terrace lights appeared first through the rain, followed by the pale stone facade.
Several security vehicles had gathered near the lower entrance, and men were moving between them with radios in hand.
Taddeo looked at the activity, and whatever softness the storm had forced into his expression disappeared.
The moment the vehicle stopped, he stepped out and called for Marco. A man came down the steps quickly while Isolde remained in the back seat with the towel around her shoulders.
“Double coverage on the west service access and the north grounds until morning,” Taddeo told him. “That camera gets cleared now, storm or not. I want the blind spot gone, and somebody stays on the outer path.”
Marco glanced briefly toward the vehicle. “Yes, sir.”
“Change the shift rotation too.”
“Taddeo.”
He looked back at her.
Isolde climbed out, and cold air immediately cut through the temporary warmth she'd gained inside. “You don't need to punish your entire security staff because I got past them.”
“This isn't punishment.”
“It looks remarkably similar from here.”
“It's correction.”
“That is somehow more you.”
Taddeo turned back to Marco. “Do it.”
Marco left.
Isolde stared at him beneath the portico while rain blew sideways across the stone between them. “You really can't help yourself.”
His attention returned to her. “Meaning?”
“Every time something doesn't behave the way you want, you tighten it.”
“Security failed.”
“I escaped.”
“For three minutes, nobody knew where you were.”
“And now you'll add men, fix the camera, change the routes, probably lock more doors.”
“If necessary.”
Isolde pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders and looked beyond him at Northglass, its windows glowing warm against the storm, beautiful enough that anyone approaching from the road might mistake it for safety.
Then she looked back at Taddeo.
“Every time you make this place safer, you make it more of a prison.”
His face went still, but this time Isolde didn't wait for the answer.
She walked past him into the house, leaving wet footprints across the polished floor as she headed for the stairs.