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If he’d asked me this yesterday, I wouldn’t have had ananswer. Hell, if he’d asked me this morning, I still wouldn’t have known. But after tonight, the way she practically purred when I grabbed her throat, the sweet way she curled her legs underneath her when she told me all about her childhood, the way she snuck glances down my body and grabbed my dick the first chance she got. Yeah, I have no doubt. Olivia Daniels is fucking mine.

“My endgame is becoming the biggest producer in the Pacific Northwest. I want our products everywhere. I want to be so big, so legit, so loved that my father doesn’t stand a fucking chance at taking us down. The rest is none of your goddamn business.”

He smirks, looking up toward the staircase. “Sure thing, boss.”

Luca meanders back over to the window, hauling himself up as I roll my shoulders a few more times. I could do a little workout now to stretch off my limbs.

“Oh, Austin.” Luca’s head pokes back through the impossibly small window. “You might want to know that she didn’t lock the door.”

He grins manically before disappearing into the night.

I don’t think; I just move. Creeping up the wooden stairs, hugging the walls so I avoid any loose floorboards.

I reach for the handle, and my mouth waters in anticipation. Although it’s not locked, she might have an alarm triggered. Or she may have security cameras set up around the house. Given that she is committing the bigger crime here, I’d assume she wouldn’t want the evidence. I risk it and twist the handle, the door creaking open.

My heart thunders in my chest at such a rate that I’m surprised I haven’t woken her yet.

I’d done this a hundred times, snuck into houses in the middle of the night. But my aim was to get caught those times; I wanted my victims to know I was there. But Olivia isn't one of my victims, and I'm not ready for her to catch me just yet.

I move around the house, noting where to find thebasement door in case I need to quickly make my way back. The house isn’t new by any standards; it looks to have original floorboards and wallpaper that is starting to peel at the corners, although, in the dark, it is hard to tell.

The left of the basement door leads toward the kitchen and backdoor. To the right, the hallway weaves into the living room. I move stealthily, the moonlight guiding my way and helping me envisage Olivia’s day-to-day.

Her yoga mat and a ring light are tucked in the corner against a plain white wall that I recognize from her videos. The couch against the other wall is worn in. It looks soft and homely. It’s clear to see Olivia hasn’t decorated this room. Presumably, she hasn’t changed much around the house since her parents died.

I look at the coffee table and see a notebook and a laptop. Firing it up, there’s no password so I start to snoop. I log into her email, reading through bills and a spreadsheet of a monthly budget for the home.

She has lists upon lists that I can go through, but it’s the notepad that draws my attention. I pick it up, the pages hiss between my thumb and finger as I flick through, picking a page at random to read. I quickly realize it’s a journal.

Danny got home at four a.m. last night, covered in mud again. I don’t know what to do. I keep trying to ask mom and dad for a sign that I’m doing a good job with him but the silence is overwhelming. I used to still feel their presence but it’s fading now. I don’t know what I can do to bring him back home where I can keep an eye on him. I feel like I’m reaching a crossroads where I either do something drastic, or I let him go. And I’m not ready to give up on him.

Fuck me.

I flick to the most recent entry, my pulse quickening.

I wonder sometimes if all the goodness in me left when momand dad died. Would they be proud of me? I don’t feel very proud of myself right now, but I can’t go back, I have to push forward. What’s done is done. And the man in my basement is dangerous, unpredictable and a master manipulator. I feel him softening my resolve. And the worst part is that I’m willfully allowing it. I need to hold myself accountable for what I’ve done here, and I do. I just wish there were someone here to take care of me. To help me out of the situation I’ve put myself in. I wish I had someone who could understand this pain I feel.

I throw the journal down like it’s burned me. Despite all the work I’ve done with Alfie, I’m still so selfish. I can’t see further than my own experience. Kidnapping is so disgustingly normal for someone like me, I’ve failed to see how emotionally traumatic this is for someone like Olivia. She was desperate when she abducted me. Desperate enough to face prison for her brother, and I’ve treated her like nothing but a joke. When really, I could be doing something to bring some fun into her life. Make it easier so she’s not so burdened.

I turn to the stairs. There is no light on to mark my way, but my feet guide me there, anyway. With each step, I’m shown a new glimpse into Olivia’s childhood as photos adorn the walls. Smiling faces, happy memories. There is even one of Danny’s graduation, which could only have been a year ago. A tug in my chest aches for something I’ve never had, but I'm pleased that she could add to the wall of happiness despite everything she’s been through.

The upstairs is smaller than the downstairs; only four doors come off the hallway. The open door leads to a bathroom with a small tub and a built-in shower. My dick twitches at the thought of Olivia soaped up and naked, beckoning me with a come-hither look of want and desire. I’d trip over my own pants getting to her, I have no doubt.

Two doors are shut, one of which has a “Keep Out” sign taped to the front. I presume that’s Danny’s childhood bedroom. The one to the right, and by my calculation, lookingto the front of the house, would be the master bedroom. Something tells me Olivia wouldn’t have taken her parents’ bedroom, so I ignore that and head to the end of the corridor to a door that is almost closed. The crack of moonlight slips through as the curtains aren’t fully closed.

Slipping into the room, I beg my racing heart to calm the fuck and down and let me enjoy this. If I’m going to do better tomorrow, I’m going to remain selfish tonight.

Holding my breath, I step toward the bed. She sleeps on her back, one leg straight and the other bent to the side. Her arms are sprawled up above her head, the thick blankets covering one breast and not much else. The warmth of the evening has stretched into the night but no doubt, the cold night air would seep in eventually.

It would be reckless of me to step forward to lay the blanket over her. But I’ve been careful for the last few years. I’ve controlled every urge I’ve had. And now, Olivia is almost daring me to do something out of character, just like her.

I crouch beside her and push a lock of hair out of her face. Her face twitches, and she brings a hand down to flap in front of her as she scrunches her face up. I freeze, suddenly terrified that I might frighten her, but she quickly relaxes, her mouth opening as she lets out a snore loud enough to wake the dead.

I slap a hand to my mouth and pinch my nose for good measure, holding in a laugh that would be sure to rival the noise she is making.

I pull the blanket up and over her, once I’m sure she is settled.

I could kiss her forehead; I’m close enough. But there would be enough time for that. I have to be patient.