A moment passes where she lingers there, watching me intently.
Hell, maybe she’s even afraid to turn her back on me.
I’m still hard from having my fingers in her cunt. From just looking at her. From remembering how her hair felt as I threaded my fingers through it.
“Last shot at walking away, kitten.” I’m not lying or manipulating her. I’m teetering on the precipice of sanity. Another second of this, and I’ll be too weak to hold on. I’ll drag her with me to the basement. I’ll never let go. “Take it before it’s too late.”
That part is a lie.
She lost her freedom the day I laid my eyes on her.
But, as tempting as it is, I can’t cage her. Yet.
“Okay. Okay.” She blinks, slips on the flip-flops, and snatches her bag.
Turns around and runs.
Her feet stomp down the stairs.
The front door slams behind her.
I smile to myself.
As if a door could separate us.
As if anything ever could.
17
HARPER
“And that’s about it,” Emersyn says, her voice lighter as I flip through the mail.
She’s glad to finally talk to me on the phone, after days of holding down the fort mostly on her own.
I’ve been available—me, or Anderson—but it’s not the same. Not like a real call, where she can talk through her worries and ask a hundred follow-ups.
Especially since her relief is totally understandable.
This has never happened before. In LA, I was always within reach. We used to share an office. Two doors between us, always open.
Until I moved out here.
Then, I was basically kidnapped.
But my business survived. Other than being late on a few custom orders, Harper’s has been doing just fine.
It terrifies my soul to say it, but…a lot of it is thanks to my doctor. My captor.
The man who let me go only a couple of hours ago.
He let me go.
My eyes drift to my window. It’s a beautiful day out.
The skies are blue. Trees are a lush shade of green. The pavements are clean.
And I share a wall with a psychopath.