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All I know right now is that I need some fresh air.

I head to the balcony and stand in the cold breeze. It doesn’t bring me any comfort like it did earlier.

I crave the feeling of grass and soil under my feet. It’s the only thing that makes me feel grounded when my mind is reeling.

Helena’s rules are still fresh in my mind, but I’ll do anything to get my mind off the email.

I step out of my room once again.

The atmosphere in Sinclair mansion has shifted with the night. The shadows in the hallway seem to whisper among themselves as I make my way down the staircase. There’s a silence in the air now, like time itself is holding its breath.

I walk toward the back of the mansion. I open the patio doors and stare out at the swimming pool.

The chaos in my head only seems to get worse.

I focus on the way the moonlight dances across the water. I try every breathing trick I know that’s supposed to help with anxiety.

The pounding of my heart only gets worse.

He’s been watching me. He’s going to come for me. He’s going to kill me.

I walk toward the pool and look up at the stars. Tears spill down my temples. Through blurry eyes, I see a shadow behind one of the mansion’s windows—a woman’s silhouette.

I wipe my tears away and glance at the window again. There’s nothing there.

A shiver passes down my spine. I swear that I saw someone standing there. Someone with long hair and a slim build.

It’s not lost on me that this is the same window James pointed at earlier this morning.

“What are you doing, Emma?” There’s movement behind me.

I whirl around and take a step back. Mr. Sinclair emerges from the water. Water droplets run down his torso, some of the beads sticking to the hairs on his muscular chest.

I’m mesmerized by the sight of him.

I only avert my gaze when I see the way his swimming trunks mold to his body. Sharp desire unfurls inside me with an intensity I’ve never felt before.

It’s like seeing a Viking warrior in the flesh. He’s pure testosterone. Everything about him is hard, menacing, sinister.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I say.

He pulls himself up over the edge of the pool and walks straight toward me.

I start to feel my pulse in strange places.

He’s covered in thick muscle everywhere, but I also notice the scars scattered across his body like macabre constellations. I notice the mosaic of tattoos etched into his skin. I have the strange desire to meticulously study each and every one of them.

“Didn’t Helena brief you on the rules?” he asks.

“She did,” I whisper.

“And you chose to ignore them?”

His piercing dark eyes are too much.

My eyes drop to his chest. Some of the hairs on his chest are gray. I don’t understand why that sends a pang of desire through me.

I give him an honest answer.