Alec came to a stop right next to me. I couldn’t look at him.
“Adriane?”
“I’m fine,” I somehow spit out.
He was quiet. I hated his unmoving, unbreakable silence.
His voice dulled into detached. “It’s getting late. May I help you back to the house?”
I said nothing.
He took a step closer, and his frame shifted as he bent down. I realized he was going to pick me up. He squatted next to me, and I flinched away, writhed. Still on the ground, I pressed my back against a tree and glared at him. “Leave me alone.”
His voice was level, with some indiscernible emotion crinkling the edges. “I’m so sorry, Adriane.” He paused. “I’ll send Ben out to help.”
The plants shuffled in his wake, and then fell still again.
I peeled myself off the ground. My legs didn’t want to work, but I walked anyway. With trembling fingers, I pulled my hands through my hair and dusted off my clothes.
Alec must’ve moved quickly to get away because Ben was already several feet into the woods when I met him.
I said nothing to him and kept moving. He walked with me in silence.
Hanna was waiting on the back patio. “Adriane, dear.” She pulled me into a hug. It’d been years since I’d been hugged, not since that day at my father’s grave.
“Sorry, Hanna.” I shrugged away from her and continued into the house. “I’m tired.”
I made it to my room and slunk down onto the floor.
I couldn’t let this happen again, but I didn’t know what to do. Grieving my father was almost easier than this, in a way. I’d been alone then. I could stare at the walls for hours, and no one knew; no one cared.
Maybe that was the answer, being alone. It would be easier once I left here. I needed to spend as much time alone as possible, and the time I did spend with people should only be with Hanna, and maybe Ben. Hanna could carry a conversation by herself, and then I could just sit there and listen to her gentle voice. And Ben was good at allowing silence, almost as good as me. I would help Hanna with meals and then spend as much time in my room or walking the grounds as possible.
As long as I didn’t have to see Alec, I thought maybe I could pull it off.
I stayed in my room the rest of the night, re-memorizing the pattern of the rug, each color and curve. I swore I could feel a blanket of numbness covering me, clinging, sucking tighter to me with each of my breaths. It felt kind of nice, like getting a shot of morphine after being stabbed with a six-inch knife.
In the morning, once Alec was sure to be gone, I walked down the stairs to the kitchen.
Hanna turned from the stove. She only looked at me, likely not sure what to say.
I grabbed a bowl and started cracking eggs into it. Hopefully, she was planning on making scrambled eggs.
She was still for a few more seconds. Then she turned back to the stove and the bacon sizzling in the pan.
We prepared in quiet for several minutes. She glanced at me a few times. I kept my expression emotionless and continued working, pretending my sanity wasn’t dangling from a single strand of hair.
I set the bowl on the counter. “Do you want anything else mixed in with the eggs?”
She looked over at me. “Uh, maybe some cheese once they’re almost done cooking.”
“Okay.” I grabbed a skillet from a lower cabinet and set it on the stove next to the bacon.
The front door opened, and voices filled the dining room.
Hanna glanced over her shoulder.
I breathed a little more easily now that other people were around to distract her.
I continued to flip and stir the scrambled eggs. “So, what do they do for him anyway?”
“Um, well…” She used a spatula to move the bacon to a platter. “Ben handles the maintenance for the house and cars. He’s been here even longer than I have.”
I lifted the skillet so I could dump the eggs into a large serving bowl. “What about the others?”
“I’m not really sure, to be honest. I think they pretty much do whatever Alec needs of them.”
Were they leftovers from the way his family used to be? But he’d said he changed everything. Well, actually, he’d said his business was legitimate. I hardly ever spoke to any of them, and though they actively took part in the conversation at meals, they never talked about their work. So I was surprised when I heard hushed voices as I moved toward the doorway with the bowl of eggs.
“What in the hell is he thinking? We don’t know enough yet.”
“I think that’s the point,” someone answered.
I didn’t know them well enough to distinguish voices.
“Are you sure—” the first man began.
Someone else cut him off. “Not here.”
They fell silent immediately. I continued forward to serve.
Vincent thanked me, and I realized he was the same who’d ordered, “Not here.”
Breakfast was uncommonly quiet that morning. I felt more like an outcast than usual. Was it because the majority of the table knew something I didn’t, or simply as a result of the wall I’d built around myself? Either way, I ignored it and continued with the meal.
After helping clean the table and kitchen, I headed back upstairs. On the desk in my room was a dirty mess of paper that’d been smoothed as much as possible, the notebook I’d thrown off the cliff. It was open to one of the back pages. I immediately recognized the neat, clear writing.
I’m sorry. I promise to have the situation handled as quickly as possible. I will have you back to your home soon.
Alec. I should’ve figured. He always seemed to know everything. Careful not to rip it, I pulled the page out and placed it in the drawer with the other note he’d given me. Then I closed the drawer, put his handwriting out of sight.
Seeing the other note made me think. He’d said I could use not only the library and grounds but also the pool and gym. I wasn’t a big swimmer, or fan of swim suits, so I decided on the gym. I figured I could be alone there just as easily as in my room, and Hanna would think I was doing something other than staring at the walls.
I went back downstairs and asked Hanna how to get to the gym. She smiled a little then gave me directions to the other side of the house. The walls changed to drywall rather than plaster, and the moulding, though still intricate, was a little different in design. Only a freak like me was likely to notice such a slight change.
Halfway down a long hall, the gym was large and divided into three distinct sections—weight equipment on the right; an empty, padded floor on the left, the purpose of which I couldn’t guess; and in the center, the floor was a pale wood, backed by a wall of mirrors with a wooden bar cutting across the middle.
Was this why he’d suggested the gym? Was it just one of the aspects of the house that the average person might find something to interest, or did he know that much? I’d loved ballet when I was growing up. I still had the hint of a dancer’s frame, with strong limbs and a narrow waist, but I was out of practice. I wished I had something more appropriate to wear; jeans would never do. Then I remembered the note saying something about the dresser in my room holding more clothes. I turned to go look through the drawers and then stopped when I saw on the chair next to the door a folded pile of fabric—a shirt and pants much too small for any of the men. I guessed perhaps Hanna had figured I might eventually explore the gym and had thought ahead, but then I saw a small piece of paper on top bearing my name. It was not her handwriting.
In the dressing room in the corner, I put on the straight-leg pants and long-sleeve cotton shirt before stepping barefoot out onto the floor. It felt nice to be in a studio after so many years. I’d forgotten what it was like—solitary but not lonely. It was a relief. The art of it was important to me. I was able to make that my main concern. My mind calmed.
I warmed up and stretched and then worked on the basics while trying not to look in the mirror. My old teacher would cringe at my gross lack of practice. At least my flexibility and strength were still reasonable. I began working on a simple pirouette—demi-pointe—and focused first on spotting properly.
The reflection in the mirror startled me into almost losing my balance.
I stopped to look at Alec standing just inside the open door. He was smiling, actually smiling. It was like seeing a marble statue coming to life.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please don’t stop. I didn’t mean to disturb.”
I could only look at him.
His smile faded as he apologized again. He turned for the door.
“Be careful.” It popped out before I could think about it, perhaps because his sudden appearance had taken me so off-guard.
“Please don’t worry, Adriane. Everything will be all right. I promise.”
“Please…” My voice dispersed like feathers in the wind.
“No one is in any risk.”
I tilted my head, as if to see him better, to understand. He was lying. I knew he was lying.
“I’m glad you finally found the studio.” He hesitated then continued. “Is the clothing appropriate?”
“How’d you know?”
He looked away and sighed. Then he turned back to me and met my gaze. “I know much about you.”
I thought we’d already covered this, but it didn’t explain how he knew about the dancing. As I looked at him, at how he seemed to be confessing something, I realized… “You were the one watching me?”
He kept his gaze on me, carefully on me. “Yes.”
I’d assumed it’d been his men, not him personally. An image flashed across my mind of Alec squaring off against Dean and all his thugs. Alec by himself, standing between Dean and me. He’d said he just needed me out of the way, but my gut told me he was the kind of man who would do whatever he had to do to defend me. I felt my expression twist.
“I’m so sorry, Adriane.” He took half a step closer, then stopped.
“Please, Alec.”
That mask of detachment he always wore slipped. There was pain and stress in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and moved as if to take a step closer.
A gruff voice from behind him. “Sir, are you ready?”
He turned his head half way toward the door. His voice was hard. “I’ll meet you outside.”
With a slight nod, Vincent disappeared down the hall.
Alec took a breath and mostly cleared his voice. “Please continue your dancing.” He paused. “You look lovely.”
Then he turned to leave.
“Please be careful.”
His steps paused, but he didn’t turn back. “Thank you, Adriane.” He walked away.