Page 89 of Freeing Denver
He could be doing this to keep me for himself. To do exactly as he promised this morning and use my mouth in a way I wouldn’t like.
But that seems risky. To go against Eli just to hurt me? It wouldn’t make sense.
Still, my hand shakes as I take his, and he guides me out of the closet. I glance once at the snoring Eli, and Kitrick pauses at the doorway, taking out his phone. I watch him pull up an app, several live feeds showing different parts of the house. He flicks off each one in the hall before taking my hand again.
I say nothing, keeping my steps light as he guides me from my room. We take a few turns into a part of the house I’ve never been in, and Kitrick stops at a door, unlocking it before urging me inside and following.
A double bed with navy covers is neatly made and set into a far corner. A bureau is against the wall at the end, a television ontop, and a door to the right looks like it leads to an en suite. It isn’t a large space, but it’s comfortable.
I twist my silk negligee in my fingers. “This is your room?”
“Yes.” He goes to the bureau and opens the top drawer, taking out a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt. He holds them out to me.
Clothes. Real clothes. Baggy, comfortable, ugly clothes.
A smile spreads across my face as I take them. As Kitrick goes into the bathroom, I quickly pull the T-shirt over my head. It reaches my knees, and I yank on the boxer shorts before shimmying out of the negligee.
“You can stay in here tonight, but I’ll need to put you in the room tomorrow,” Kitrick says.
My mood immediately deflates. “For how long?”
“Not long.” He watches me from the en suite doorway, his hands on his hips.
“Why are you doing this?” I watch him and the darkness seeping across his expression. “If Eli finds out you’ve lied?—”
“That’s my problem, not yours. And what have I told you about keeping your mouth shut?”
“You’re a moody hero.”
He steps close and points at me. “I am not a hero. I am not your hero. Just because I have a conscience when it comes to pregnant women being assaulted, it does not mean I’m a good person.”
I chew my lip. “I mean, it kinda does?—”
“Denver, shut up.”
My adrenaline is ebbing away, but it’s replaced by relief. Calming, soothing relief that I’m safe at least for tonight.
“Can I watch TV?”
He frowns. “Keep the volume low.”
I clamber into bed and snatch the controller from the nightstand, almost bouncing in place I’m so excited. I haven’twatched TV in weeks, and I immediately flick to a news channel, eyes wide, legs crossed under the covers.
Kitrick says, “Do not open this door to anyone but me.”
“Okay,” I say, my eyes still on the screen.
“I mean it, Denver.”
I nod quickly, finally looking at him. “I promise. Do you have any food?”
He levels me with a heated stare. “This isn’t ahotel.”
“Right, okay, sorry.” I sink back into the pillows and return my attention to the TV. He unlocks the door. “Thank you, Kitrick.”
He tenses as he looks at me, and I wait for him to throw my gratitude back in my face, but instead he says, “You’re welcome, Denver.”
“It’sweek six of the search and still no confirmed sightings of Denver Luxe. The socialite?—”
