I wince as it shatters into a million pieces. I’ve never seen him like this, and it terrifies me. He paces the room in front of me, his hands rubbing over his face, through his hair, almost as if he’s tormented and fighting some internal battle.
“I have to right that wrong. I’m expected to right that wrong. I’ve been supposed to do so for months, and now?! Now, I have no fucking choice! I thought I could protect you. I was protecting you, and what fucking thanks do you give me?! You screw the first man you see? In my home?!”
Tears spill down my cheeks. “Adrian, I told you we were done. I was up front about that,” I insist.
He stops pacing and turns to look at me. His head cocks to the side, and I squirm under his examination. “You were. And that rash decision has fucked us both. I have no choice now. If I don’t take care of this, he will. It’s why he’s here. I just happened to get to you first.”
My blood runs cold. He? Who?
“Adrian,” I say, trying to sound much calmer than I feel. “What’s going on? Talk to me. I don’t understand any of this.”
“No,” he says, his eyes panicking. “You know too much as it is. It’s too damn late.” He takes a deep breath and has the audacity to look pained. “God, I’m so fucking sorry for this. You know, I was only supposed to watch. Look, don’t touch, Adrian. But I just couldn’t help myself. I had to touch you. Still, sometimes, I wish I’d never laid eyes on you that day. That I’d just kept going. And yet, no matter what happens, I’ll cherish the memories we had for the rest of my life. I couldn’t live without them, as selfish as that sounds. But then again, I think you’ve found I’m a selfish man.” He laughs almost menacingly.
Then I jump as a loud beep sounds, signaling that someone is pulling up to the gate. Panic sets in his eyes, and he grabs my arms, hauling me up from the chair. I try to fight him, but I’m still lethargic from whatever he used to knock me out with earlier.
Just as I’m about to scream, he anticipates it and his hand clasps over my mouth, muffling the sound. He pushes me forward until we’re in his office, and he leads me towards the bookshelf, pushing it aside. His large hand grasps my neck to hold me still as he moves the shelf back in place so no one can follow. I try to scream, but he squeezes my windpipe, breaking the sound. I whimper and shake my head, indicating that I won’t scream again, and he loosens his hold slightly.
He leads me through the tunnel until we come out to the garage of the guesthouse where a car is waiting. We stop just behind the trunk, and he turns me around. His eyes gaze down into mine, and momentarily, I see the Adrian from the day we met. He doesn’t want to hurt me. So why is he doing this? I have no answers, and I fear I won’t get any. Tears spill down my cheeks, and he leans in to kiss them away.
“I’m so sorry, Gabriella. I never meant for any of this to happen. If you ever believe anything I say, please believe that,” he whispers softly before placing a small kiss on my lips.
“Adrian, don’t. I believe you. You don’t have to do this. Please. I know nothing,” I plead, panic welling up in me.
“It’s the only way. If only you’d known where the damn painting was, then maybe things could’ve been different. Perhaps I could’ve been the one to save you,” he says softly then scoops me up and places me in the trunk with extreme ease.
I try to kick and claw, but it’s no use. He’s too strong for me. Panic bursts in time with the slam of the trunk. Oh, God. What’s going to happen to me now? I feel the car lurching forward, and I know I can’t just lie here and do nothing. I refuse to accept this fate, whatever it may be. All I know is that it can’t be good. I rack my brain, trying to figure out what Adrian could’ve been talking about. Why does the painting matter? Who is he protecting me from?
You weren’t supposed to live.
His words bring my conversation with Rafe back. For the longest time, I felt guilty that I wasn’t home the night my parents were killed, but I’ve recently gotten over that, happy that I was given a second chance to live, to create a legacy even if my parents couldn’t. I’ve long ago accepted the police’s claims that my parents were killed in a botched robbery attempt, even when the perpetrator insisted he had nothing to do with it. Weeks later, he accepted a plea deal, and I accepted that he’d been the one to do it.
Now, however, I wonder what Adrian could possibly mean. Was it more than that? As the pieces of the puzzle play out in my mind, I have no idea how to put them together. If they even fit together. Or am I reading too much into things and it’s something more than that? What do the files mean, and why is the painting so important?
Either way, I can’t think about that right now. I have to find a way out of this. Just like that, I feel my phone buzz from my jacket pocket, and relief soars through me that Adrian didn’t think to pat me down. Stretching my wrists back and forth, I fumble, pulling and twisting, thankful that Adrian had—I’m guessing—taken pity on me and not tied the knot too tight. Either that or he was too drunk to do so, a thought that terrifies me now that he’s behind the wheel of the car. I have no idea where we’re headed or how fast we’re going. All I know is that I’m not safe.
I try to stay calm as I work to loosen the knot, and within a few minutes—which feel like hours—it loosens just enough so I can slip it off. Sweet relief floods my system, but it’s a short-lived triumph. Freedom is still so far away.
Hastily, I pull my phone from my pocket and see that Rafe’s been calling me nonstop. I haven’t had a chance to think of him until now, and my heart sinks as I wonder if I’ll ever see his handsome face again. If his deep-blue eyes will ever pierce my gaze. Will I ever feel his lips on my skin?