For the first time since I woke up in his car, Harris isn't smiling. His face contorts into an expression of disgust. “His exact words were, ‘Do what you want with her, but try to keep her alive.’”
Try to keep her alive.
My stomach revolts even though it’s empty, and I dry heave. That one phrase echoes in my head. Try to keep her alive. Try to keep her alive.
“Athena.” Harris’s voice is faint. “You’re okay. Take deep breaths.”
But I’m not. I’m not okay. Mike took away my ability to be okay years ago, and no matter how hard I try, I never seem to be able to take it back.
“Let me leave,” I say in-between heaves. “Please.”
“I can’t do that.”
Right. Because even though he acts nice, he reports to Mike. I’ll do well to remember that.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “Do you know how dangerous it’d be for me to let you go?”
I’m doing this for your own good. Fuck, it’s almost like Mike told him exactly what to say. My life is one horribly messed up glob of lies that someone tried to dust off and make look pretty, but the sad truth is, at the end of the day, it’s still a glob of lies. I’m so tired of lies.
Just this once.
It won’t matter.
You’ll love it.
I’m only looking out for you.
It’ll be okay.
“One day,” I tell Harris. “I’m getting out and I’m going somewhere where I get to decide what’s best for me.”
He’s nodding. “I understand your desire for that. Now’s not the time.”
For a minute, I get the impression there’s a hidden meaning behind his words. Almost as if he’s trying to tell me something. I tilt my head. He really does have pretty eyes. And right now they’re begging me to understand.
“Who are you, Harris?” I say.
He doesn’t flinch. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Let’s start with your last name.”
“My last name is Harris.”
“Your name’s Harris Harris?” I can’t help it; I laugh. “How did you manage to piss your mom off so badly before you were born?”
He starts the car again and pulls onto the highway. “I didn’t piss my mom off before I was born. Harris isn't my first name.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Caden.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Harris Harris is better.”
“I’ll tell my mom.”
We’re a few miles down the road before I realize I’m smiling.
You are so fucked up. You shouldn’t be comfortable with this man.
But my smile doesn’t go away.
He drives us to a house about fifteen minutes outside of Vegas. The home he pulls up to is larger than I would have imagined a bachelor living in. And though it’s not isolated, his neighbors aren’t so close he can see what they’re eating for dinner by looking out his window.
“Big place for a guy living by himself.” As soon as the words come out of my mouth I realize I have no way of being certain he actually lives by himself. For all I know, he could be married with five kids.
But he replies simply, “I like my space.”
I’m more sore than I thought and it hurts like hell to climb out of the car. Harris is by my side in a flash after hearing my moan.
“You should have waited for me.”
“I’m perfectly capable of getting out of a car,” I snap back.
He takes my attitude in stride, neither getting angry or coddling me. “I have some of your clothes in the trunk— ”
“Don’t want them.” I start to hobble to the door.
“You have to wear something.”
I stop and turn around. “Caden Harris, I’ve had a woman die in my arms. I’ve almost been killed. I haven’t had anything to eat in I don’t know how long. I’ve been this close to escaping from the jackass who’s owned me for the last ten years and not long ago I was given to a man with instructions to do what he wanted to with me as long as he kept, rather tried to keep, me alive. Shove the clothes up your ass. I’ll go naked before I wear them.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he’s trying hard not to laugh. “Do you want the toothbrush, or should I shove it up my ass, too?”
There’s no way to answer him, so I head back to the door and wait for him to unlock it.
He closes the trunk, wisely leaving the clothes where they are. “There’s a public nudity restriction in my homeowners agreement, so wrap a towel or something around you before heading outside. Deal?”
“Deal,” I say as he opens the door and waves me inside.
He leads me down a short hallway into a spacious kitchen. “I’ll give you the grand tour later, but right now you need something for the pain and food.”
My stomach rumbles at the thought of eating. Harris opens the nearby pantry and starts pulling things out. “Peanut butter and jelly sound good? It’s quick and easy to make, plus it has protein.”
“Sounds delightful.”
He waves toward a table in front of a bay window. “Go sit down and let me get this ready.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I sit down and watch him work. He’s making himself a sandwich, too.
“Milk or something else?” he asks.
“Milk’s fine.”
Minutes later, he places the sandwich, milk, and two pills in front of me before taking his seat across from me. I raise my eyebrow at the pills.
“Ibuprofen,” he says.
I swallow them before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Oh my, God,” I say after my first bite. “This is the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever had.”
“Or else you were starving.”
“That, too,” I say around my second bite.
He’s quiet as I eat, and I appreciate the silence. As my belly is filled, my eyes grow more and more heavy. I’m surprised I’m not snoring by the time I pop the last bit of bread in my mouth. Harris has been watching me carefully, and when I finish, he stands up.
“We need to talk, but you need to sleep first,” he says.
I yawn, but push back from the table and follow him down a hall. He points to a bedroom. “That’s my room. You’ll be here,” he indicates an adjacent room.
Well, that answered one of my questions. I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed as he did. Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t expect sex at some point. Matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet he would want to sleep with me. Probably not now.
“A shower.” It hits me. I’d been so caught up in food, I forgot how rank I probably was.
He looks over me in assessment. “You’re barely able to keep your eyes open. I don’t think you and water would be good now.”
I yawn again. This time, bigger than the one in the kitchen. “You’re right.”
“I know I am.” He doesn’t step inside the bedroom he’s declared mine. “Sleep now. When you wake up, you can take a shower and we’ll talk.”
He may be talking more, I’m not sure. My mind is totally not paying attention to him anymore. My focus is on the bed in front of me. It looks so inviting. I’ll sleep on top of the covers; that way I won’t get them smelly.
Harris says something from the doorway.
“What?” I ask.
“Come find me after you wake up and shower.”
“Yes,” I say, climbing up on the bed. “Sometime next year.”
He chuckles and closes the door.
***
I’m in a dark room. Either that or I’m blindfolded. I can't tell which. I’m also naked. It’s cold in the room and wish I had something to cover my body.
“Absolute perfection,” a strange voice says.
I turn my head in the direction it’s coming from, but there’s nothing there. Must be a blindfold on me.
“She is,” a voice says that is eerily familiar. “Would you like to try her out?”