Right?

  But he kept me locked up in his condo. He never let me out of his sight.

  For my safety.

  Or was it?

  We pass through dense woods and up a hill. Soon the trees grow sparser apart, and the car drives down a paved lane toward a cream-stoned mansion. The front driveway is the size of a tennis court, circling a fountain wreathed with flowers and vines. My uncle’s home reminds me of a cross between the White House and those European country castles I read about in my romance novels. My mouth falls open. I’ve never seen anything like it before.

  “Welcome to my humble residence,” he says. “A member of my household staff will show you to your room. Once you’ve settled in, Vincent will meet you in the library.”

  “Why can’t I see him now?” I look back to see the second car turn onto a side path that goes behind the house. The car disappears behind a hedgerow.

  “I need to have a chat with Mr. Reed first,” my uncle says. He pats my elbow. “I swear I won’t hurt him.”

  The butler’s name is Ben, or that’s what he tells me. Even though we met only twenty minutes ago, Ben treats me like royalty. As we tour the mansion, he introduces me to other people working for my uncle. A gardener, a chef, and a bubbly girl named Natalie. They offer polite greetings before hurrying away. Ben tells me Natalie is my uncle’s new executive assistant, a temporary replacement. I notice all the women are beautiful, and the men are polished, as Mom would say. Ben keeps his eyes on me.

  When we reach the second floor, he leads me down a hallway to a set of double doors of polished wood.

  “This room is yours, Ms. Rowan,” he says, opening the doors.

  The luxurious bedroom reminds me of a fairytale. Every wall is paneled in white and gold. There’s a big four-post bed covered with fluffy blankets and pillows, and a golden chandelier hangs from the ceiling.

  The butler waits as I open another door and see a massive closet lined with expensive-looking dresses and gowns. The bathroom is the size of my old dorm unit at the boarding school. Everything looks brand new, shiny and sparkly. The place would be perfect if it didn’t feel so fake. Like a giant dollhouse.

  “The clothes are for me?”

  Ben nods. “Mr. Garnet had them specially made, tailored to fit you.”

  “How did he know my size?”

  “Not for me to say. Please ask Mr. Baxter.” That’s the answer Ben gives whenever I ask anything about my uncle.

  “Is the room pleasing to you?” he asks.

  “It’s fine.” I was expecting a dungeon or something, not this. I set Mia down on the lush carpet. Her head darts from side to side, and she cautiously leaps onto the bed, her tail wagging.

  Ben touches the side of his head, and I realize he’s wearing an earbud radio. “Your uncle expects you in the library, Ms. Rowan. Shall we go?”

  I follow Ben out, down a hallway and through another set of polished wooden doors into an antique library. There’s a big table with green reading lamps, and globe lights hang from the ceiling. Paintings cover the walls. The rich smell of wood and leather overwhelm my senses, and I have to take a step back.

  Uncle Garnet is standing at the windows with his back to me. “Leave us, Benjamin.”

  The butler bows and backs out, shutting the door behind him.

  “How do you like your new home?” my uncle says.

  “Where’s Vincent?”

  Garnet walks to a side door, opens it, and Vincent stands there with Kayla and Teague at his back. Vincent’s gray suit is crumpled, his hair unkempt, but he doesn’t look hurt. He hasn’t shaved in two days, and his jaw is dark with stubble. Despite what Garnet told me in the car, heat rises in my belly at seeing him, and relief swells my chest. I want to leap into his arms.

  But Vincent keeps his gaze on the wall and won’t look at me.

  “I’ll give you two some privacy,” my uncle says. “Mr. Reed, I trust you’ll tell the girl what she needs to hear.”

  To my surprise, Vincent and I are left alone. He walks over and lifts his head. The muscles in his jaw flex. I fidget my fingers, hoping he’ll hug me and tell me he loves me, but Vincent doesn’t move. We’re standing inches apart, and his eyes are cold.

  “Did anyone hurt you?” he asks.

  “N-No.”

  “Good.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  Vincent shuts his eyes for a moment. “Briony, listen. I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have taken you from your mother’s house.” He struggles to speak. “Everything was my fault. I’m sorry.”

  My heart slams into my chest, and I shirk away from him, the man who I thought loved me. The man I thought I loved. My uncle’s words in the car fill my head, and I slap Vincent across the face. Standing still, he doesn’t move. I slap him again and again, beating on his chest with my fists, screaming at him until my voice gets hoarse.

  “I lied to you,” he says. “I took you with me because I wanted your mother’s money. I’m sorry, Briony. Your uncle was right.”

  I shake my head, refusing to listen, tears streaming down my face. Vincent steps closer and holds my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Briony. It’s the truth.”

  “Liar!”

  “I never loved you,” he says quietly. “It was an act. I’m sorry.”

  I think back to our first night together in his condo, the way he took my virginity. Vincent betrayed me. He was using me all along. His hands are trembling, and I wrench myself away.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again.

  “Stop saying you’re sorry,” I scream. I stagger back, my hand on my mouth.

  Vincent kisses my hand before he turns around and walks out the side door.

  Uncle Garnet enters as I sob and takes me into his arms. Mom was wrong. There’s nothing dangerous about Uncle Garnet. He only wanted to protect me. It was Vincent who lied. Vincent who took advantage of me, a schoolgirl who fell for a dream.

  Stupid.

  I deserve everything that’s happened to me. I deserve the pain and heartache.

  Uncle Garnet combs his fingers through my hair. Taking out a handkerchief, he wipes the tears from my face and holds me close. “You’re home now, Briony.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Vincent

  Kayla leads me to the basement, a sprawling maze of wine cellars and security vaults. Down here, there are no décor or flowers. The walls are concrete, and every door has a keypad.

  The mansion may look like a quaint paradise from the outside. But inside, behind the walls and under the floor, the place is wired to the teeth with alarms. And I know for a fact none of the alarms go to the police. Garnet uses private security against intruders.

  “You did good up there,” Kayla says.

  “Take me to Campbell.”

  My legs feel like cement, and I can barely contain the rage behind my chest, the sickness in my guts seeing Briony cry. I hurt her. I had to convince Briony I didn’t love her. I had to free her of me, and Garnet said there was only one way to do that. Get Briony to hate me. So I lied. I told her what Garnet wanted me to say. It ripped my heart out, but it was the only way to save Campbell.

  I threw Briony to the fucking wolves.

  Kayla stops in front of a vault door, taps the keypad, and the door swings back. I walk into a room that resembles a meat locker.

  Olivia Campbell is sitting on the floor on a thin mattress with her back against the wall. They must’ve nabbed her at work because she’s still wearing her white coat, and there’s blood on it. The tips of her fingers are wrapped in bandages. She raises her head, and there’s no color in her face. But her eyes are defiant, still the woman I know and respect. They didn’t break her. I’m pretty fucking sure no one can break her.

  “Vincent,” she says, mildly surprised like she’s running into me at the supermarket.

  “Olivia.”

  Kayla snorts. “You two want to stay here and catch up or get the fuck out first? Don’t forget, doc, get your fingers checked out. They might be infected.”

  Campbell ignores her, staring at me. “Let’s go.”

  Kayla takes us to the ground floor, following a hallway that leads out back. Garnet’s mansion is stone up front, but the rear walls are plated with glass. He keeps a greenhouse back here, a rose garden in full bloom. Kayla stops to pluck up a flower, smelling its petals before she tosses it into a trash bin.

  “Can’t stand the fucking roses,” she says. “Only downside to working for Baxter.”

  Teague is waiting beside a sedan outside. “All finished?” he says.

  “Yeah,” Kayla says. “Drive them wherever they want to go. And doctor? Don’t forget, we know where your family lives. Even the grandson in Canada.”

  “Go to hell,” Campbell says.

  “That’s the plan. All the fun people go there.” Kayla turns to me. “Be seeing you, Vincent.”

  “Not if I see you first.”

  Kayla smacks my shoulder. “Tough guy.”

  Teague drives Campbell and me back to my condo in Fairfax. He says nothing along the way. We stop at a gas station once, and after he fills up, he goes into the station and returns with a bag of peanuts. “Ya’ll hungry?”

  We don’t answer.

  Two hours later, he drops us off in the parking garage under my condo building, right next to my BMW. Then he’s gone.

  Campbell and I lock eyes. One look, and I know she knows everything. My work over the years for Garnet Baxter. In and out of a courtroom. The things I’ve done, legal and illegal. The wrongs and the very wrongs.

  My relationship with Briony Rowan.

  “You’re no better than them,” Campbell says after a while.

  “I didn’t say I was.”

  “You left that girl all alone with an evil fuck like Garnet Baxter.”

  I grit my teeth. “It was the only way to save you.”

  “Well, I’m saved. Do you expect me to thank you, Vincent?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going back for her?”

  “Yes.”

  Campbell nods. “I’ll warn my family before I contact the FBI—”

  “Garnet’s untouchable.”

  “Be quiet, Vincent. This is America and on one’s untouchable in America. I’ll give you two days to do what you have to do. Then it’ll be out of my hands. Give me some money. I need it for a taxi.”

  I hand her all the cash from my wallet. She takes it, squeezing my hand as she does so. “Can you fight? Use a gun?”

  “I’ve learned a few things over the years.”

  “From Garnet’s people?”

  “And on my own.”

  “Have you killed anyone before?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe it’s time you start.” Campbell sighs and hugs me. “Garnet had another prisoner in my cell. She told me her name was Janice. One of his men cut her throat while I watched.” Campbell steps back. “She begged for her life, Vincent. Did you know her?”

  “Yes.”

  Five minutes before closing, I shoulder through the door of Junior’s store. He stubs out his cigarette on the counter ashtray and puts up his hands. Junior used to be an analyst at the NSA before he became a freelance hacker and self-declared entrepreneur on the black market. The first time I met him was through a client of Garnet’s six years ago. As far as I know, Junior has never sold out a customer. That’s a rule he lives by, that and giving his middle finger to the establishment. Any establishment.

  “The laptop I handed over was a fake,” he says.

  “I know. Where’s the real one?”

  Junior goes in the back and comes out with Amelia’s laptop. He sets it on the counter. “I cracked the encryption. Interesting shit on there.”

  “You looked?”

  “Had to. My curiosity was stoked. That lady came into my goddam store and pointed a gun at my head.”

  “Kayla Dominic?”

  “She didn’t give her name. There was another man with her and this cop. You in trouble, Vince?”

  I look at him, and Junior shrugs.

  “My lips are sealed,” he says.

  I take a deep breath and open the laptop. There are two folders on the encrypted drive. The first one contains a single document, Amelia’s will, the real one. I read through it. Amelia left everything to Briony, and there’s no mention of making Garnet her guardian. I click on the second folder and see a video file. Twenty minutes long, it’s a recording of Amelia Rowan talking directly to the camera.

  I watch it to the end. It’s a confession.

  Amelia knew she was ill. She knew she didn’t have much time left, and she wanted Briony to see this before she died.

  I close the laptop, slide it in my bag, and shut my eyes for a moment. I don’t know what kind of mother Amelia was, and it’s not my place to judge. I’m certainly no expert on what a functional family should look like. But the woman I saw on that video loved her daughter.

  Now I know why Garnet is dangerous, what plans he has for Briony.

  “I need a weapon,” I say to Junior.

  He leads me to a backroom he only shows to trusted customers. One wall is lined with hunting rifles. Racks holding long shotguns cover the other wall. A display case holds survival gear of all kinds. Compasses, knives, binoculars, and bulletproof vests. Everything is legal. Other than electronics, Junior is also a licensed firearms dealer. I helped him prepare the applications two years ago.

  I pick out a vest and put it on the counter. But the guns are no good for me. “You have anything compact? No serials.”

  Junior crosses his arms. “What for? You planning on a massacre?”

  “I’m saving someone I love.”

  “With a massacre.”

  “All’s fair in love and war.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Do you have something or not?”

  Junior brings out a tin box. Inside are two matte black pistols with the serial numbers filed off. “USP Tactical, made in Germany. Finest sidearm in the world. Buy one get one free—”

  I glare at him.

  “You know what,” Junior says, “these babies are on the house.”

  “I appreciate the generosity.”

  “House has never heard of you.”

  “Right.”

  I leave the store and head toward my car parked three blocks away. Briony’s face flashes through my head. My feet pick up speed as anger builds in my muscles. Soon I’m sprinting.

  Garnet never lied to me about Briony. He just didn’t tell me the entire truth. And now he has my girl in his clutches.

  Chapter Twelve

  Briony

  It’s almost midnight.

  Mia sprawls out on the bed, her pointy ears droopy. She’s been moping around all night like a sad puppy. She misses Vincent.

  My new bedroom has a balcony, two bathrooms, one with a hot tub, and three closets. If I asked, I’m sure someone would build a cat house for Mia. But she acts like she’s in prison.

  “Get over it!” I blurt out.

  But I’m the one who should get over being all alone in a strange mansion. Mia lets out a sad little meow that makes me feel worse.

  “Sorry,” I murmur, petting her head. “I don’t want to be here either. But we have to get used to it. Okay?”

  Meow.

  After Vincent left this afternoon, Uncle Garnet let me explore the mansion to my heart’s content, except the rooms that are locked. The basement is off-limits too.

  What’s the expression? A golden cage? It feels that way.

  My uncle says the restrictions are temporary. Soon he'll let me out of the house, once I learn my place, whatever that means. He told me we'd look at some colleges after my grades are transferred from the boarding school, but there's no hurry. In the meanwhile, I can work as his executive assistant.

  He’ll take care of everything.

  But I can’t stop being nervous around him. I should be grateful, but all I can think of is Vincent.

  I hate him.

  I don’t.

  I want to hate him. I have to.

  He made me feel cherished and wanted, but it was all an act. I still can’t believe it. What we shared felt so real. Then again, how would I be able to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s not? Like my uncle said, I don’t know anything about men. Vincent seduced me, and I bet I’m not his first conquest. I bet he’s had plenty of girls naïve and stupid like me.

  I walk into a closet and stand before the full-length mirror. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I look myself over. A black slip dress sheaths my body. I picked it out after Uncle Garnet said to put on something elegant for a late dinner. The dress was the least revealing one I could find.

  My uncle wants to welcome me into his household. I have no appetite, but Uncle Garnet insisted. I don’t know why I have to dress up since it’ll only be the two of us.

  There’s a knock on the bedroom door before I hear Ben’s voice. “Ms. Rowan? Your uncle is expecting you.”

  “I’ll be out in a sec!”

  “Mr. Baxter expects you to be punctual.”

  Walking to the door, I give Mia one last look. “Behave,” I whisper.

  She bares her fangs at me, and I roll my eyes before I open the door.

  Ben the butler is waiting outside. “You look lovely, Ms. Rowan.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Is your name really Ben?”

  He smiles. “This way, please.”

  I follow him to the dining room in the East Wing. Ben says the mansion has three dining rooms, but this one is the largest, reserved for special occasions and the most important guests.

  Ben opens a huge door, and I have to adjust my eyes. All the furniture is dark wood, and there's a faux fireplace. Maybe it's the dim lighting or the lack of windows, but the whole room has a reddish tint that makes my stomach queasy.

  Uncle Garnet, still wearing a white suit, is already there. Ben leaves us. My uncle takes my hand. “You look so much like your mother.”

 

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