Page 44 of Liars and Liaisons

He tasted like mint, whiskey, and cherries. Dark and clean and almost deadly.

That’s all I know.

Between my legs, my pulse flares at the memory.

When I reach out with shaky fingers, desperate to relive that night, my hand falls into nothingness. Suddenly, there’s no figure at the foot of the bed, and that presence has zapped from the room entirely.

My hand falls to my side with a heavy thump. I sit back on my heels, brow furrowing as I scan the darkness.

I’m alone even though Iknowsomeone was here seconds ago.

Grayson wouldn’t have left without a word. Definitely not with me crawling to him.

But the shadows seem to have vanished into thin air.

* * *

The next morning,I’m half-tempted to stay in my room out of spite. I take longer than normal to bathe, using the aromatherapy soaps and milk bath that Willow brought me from town.

My fingers and toes are pruny by the time the door to my bedroom swings open, and Grayson strides inside. It’s six, and the sun hasn’t even come up yet, so the early glow of the morning sky makes him look like a god as he pauses in the center of the room, searching for me.

I slide forward, hiding myself with the edge of the porcelain claw-foot tub. It’s deep, so I’m hidden below my shoulders, but when he turns and spots me, I somehow feel completely on display.

“Well, no wonder the water bill has risen significantly since your arrival,” he says, and I note the disheveled hair and the five-o’clock shadow. “Do you always wake up so early to soak in your own filth?”

“Not always. Only when I need to relax because I’ve been locked in my room by my deranged captor.”

He runs a hand down his crumpled, half-buttoned shirt. It’s white with black smudges that don’t appear to be part of the design, and it looks like he slept in it.

Truth be told, he doesn’t look very good at all.

I mean, he looksgood. The man’s a god with his chiseled jaw and emerald eyes. The strong slope of his broad shoulders, which taper off to his long fingers.

As he steps into the bathroom, an image of him using those fingers flashes past my eyes. Almost like a memory, but not quite.

And even though I’ve not heard him play a single instrument, Iknowhe’s talented.

Like he can sense the direction my thoughts have veered, his hand flexes at his sides. Claws at his black slacks.

“Captor?” Grayson chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t think good girls are supposed to tell lies, Little Echo.”

That fucking nickname. So condescending.

“And I don’t think employers usually trap their employees. What would you call yourself in that case?”

“Practical.” He shrugs, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. A thumb pushes one through its hole, and I find myself entranced by the motion. “Those parties tend to get out of control. I can’t have my bestemployeegetting involved. Though I do think the better question is, why do you want to be?”

“I don’t want to go to your parties. I just think it’s rude to remove the option from me entirely.”

“What did I tell you about choices, Violet?”

“It’s kind of alarming that you don’t seem to understand free will.”

“Oh, I understand it.” Another button is released from its prison of fabric, and a larger swatch of skin enters my line of sight. “I’m just saying, it’s not real. Choice is a myth concocted by people who want to manipulate you without your knowledge.”

“Yeah, I remember. You think everyone is a victim of circumstance. Doom, gloom.” I rest my head on the lip of the tub. “Ever think this house is rotting your brain?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he finishes off the buttons and meets my gaze.

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