Page 236 of Mine Again
It has to be Luca.
He’s found a way in.
My heart kicks, a wild surge that rattles my ribs, and heat flashes across my skin.
Luca is out there, challenging Hale’s carefully constructed delusion.
I glance to the side and spot Hale’s half-eaten breakfast abandoned on a small table near the window, a glass of that vile brown concoction sitting untouched beside his plate.
The thought of Luca rattling him so much he couldn’t finish his meal, couldn’t even drink his so-called elixir of life, makes my lips curve before I can stop them. Anything that unsettles him is a victory in my book.
I don’t bother with a greeting. He doesn’t deserve one. Not after yesterday.
Instead, I cross to the buffet table that’s as overflowing as always. My appetite is thin, but I take a plate anyway, stacking it with fruit and pancakes. I need to keep up my strength. Who knows, I might have to run, especially if Luca is close.
Maybe it’s only my imagination, but there’s a charge in the air, a prickle along my skin. It feels like him, like the ghost of his touch brushing over my arm or the salt air of our island drifting into this prison. For one dizzy second, it’s almost real.
Hale still hasn’t acknowledged me. That in itself is unusual. He thrives on his performance, on playing his part. Ignoring me isn’t in his script.
Suits me, though. I’ve listened to this man way too much already.
I eat slowly, letting my gaze drift around the unfamiliar room until it lands on a painting over the mantel. My jaw drops, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth.
No way.
And I thought the deer velvet was bad.
A larger-than-life portrait of Hale stares back at me… shirtless, oiled like a gladiator, ridges and valleys everywhere. As if he actually has abs like that.
I drag a hand down my face, laughing under my breath. Seriously? Is this supposed to be sexy?
The question is on the tip of my tongue, but when my gaze finds him, his eyes are narrowed on one of the screens, like it might strike him.
His posture is coiled, every line of his body radiating strain. A coldness clings to him, seeping into the air.
I like it… a lot.
Because that tension means only one thing.
Luca is getting to him.
He still hasn’t said a word ten minutes later, which, for him, is a warning sign.
The screen flashes once.
Hale stiffens. His fingers twitch on the mouse. Click. Click. Then nothing.
Silence.
I shift in my seat, curiosity eating at me. I need to know what’s happening.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, trying to project as much innocence as possible, and not the gloating excitement curling through me.
He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tightens. He swallows hard, like whatever he just saw punched the breath out of him.
And then he turns to face me.
His smile is slow. Controlled. Too even.
