Page 87 of House of Cards

I ignore Rich, pointing at Troy. “Everything. In the meantime, she doesn’t leave my side.”

“Still signing her up for sessions,” Rich calls as I head for the exit. “Clients aren’t gonna like you cramping their style.”

I clap a hand against Troy’s chest, making sure he’s staring at me, not Rich.

“Everything comes to me first,” I murmur. “She’s mi—“ I change what I’d been going to say. “I brought her here. She’s my responsibility.”

Troy doesn’t nod this time, but he doesn’t have to.

If I’ve truly let a fox into the henhouse, then I need to figure out how to take care of it before Myles or Rich knows the full extent. By letting me handle this, he’s not protecting me, but giving me a chance to protect myself…

I shove out of the room, the door banging loudly before the hydraulic hinge can kick in.

…And take necessary action.

Zoey

Someone’s watching me. And that’s a creepy feeling to have any time, but especially when you’ve just woken up. I lie still, waiting for my eyes to adjust in the dark until I can make out vague shapes.

One of those shapes is Smith sitting in a chair.

In the dark.

Watching me.

I should feel violated. Freaked out. Maybe even terrified enough to scream.

But in some fucked up way, it’scomforting.There could have been much worse things waiting in the dark, watching me sleep.

“What the hell are you doing?” I grumble as I push into a sit, hiss, and immediately roll onto my side. “Ow.”

Suddenly I’m wishing I’d woken up with an IV needle pumping drugs into my system again. At least then I wouldn’t be in pain.

“I drew you a bath.”

I drag my fingers through my mussed up hair. I usually keep it tied up in a ponytail during the day, a loose, messy bun at night. This is the longest it’s been free range inmonths.

“Um…thanks?”

I’ve never been one of those bright-eyed and bushy-tailed morning people. The ones colorful woodland creatures visited at the break of dawn so they could all sing a merry song about how each day was a fucking gift.

You know what’s a gift?

Coffee.

Really strong coffee.

Smith unfolds from the armchair and comes over to the side of the bed to help me up. How kind, seeing as he was the one who assaulted my backside in the first place.

I hobble along with him to the bathroom, mind racing.

That’s not all he did in that creepy room deep inside the maze. Something happened to me in there. Something I’d thought impossible since the day Smith had dragged me off the casino floor and laid out his ‘deal’.

I’d given in.

Given up.

Failed.