Page 29

R hae sat on the leather couch where she’d spent hours curled up as a child reading books while her father worked from home. She drew her knees to her chest, just like she did back then, when her world was pure and unstained by terror.

She stared down at the photo album in her lap, her shaky finger moving over a picture of her small family—her mother, looking bright and fresh in hiking gear, her father standing tall and strong next to her.

Smoky blue mountains provided the backdrop to the memory of a family vacation to the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Rhae was eleven years old when she took that picture—off-center, slightly tilted in a way she thought was edgy and cool. At the time, she was really into photography and had fancied herself a professional after reading one book on the topic.

She wasn’t part of the photo, but her creative license lived on in that skewed photo of her parents at the top of the mountain.

Each image in the album struck her with the force of memory. Her mother’s elegant smile at the summer garden party. Her father holding her as a toddler, pride and love radiant in his face.

The Christmas holidays, the long afternoons on the terrace, the quiet evenings in this very study. It all felt so close, but the house smelled stale, like time had tried to forget them. And yet everything remained eerily untouched.

It felt like her parents had simply stepped out for a moment to do some shopping or run an errand.

But they hadn’t. They were dead.

Everything about this place was insanely wrong.

She snapped the album shut and pushed to her feet, looking around even though she knew she was alone. Justin had locked her in hours ago.

Despite the cameras, she had gone to the windows first, seeking an escape, but her heart sank to see the thick steel bars covering each window. She avoided looking at them now—the feeling of being trapped in a cage was far too terrifying for her already muddled mind to handle.

When she reached the desk, she paused, breathing in the faint leather and ink scent that she associated with her father. Then, tossing a defiant look at the camera in case Ravencroft was watching, she dropped into his leather chair and began searching through his desk drawers.

One was filled with pens and pencils, notepads that would never be used and one of her father’s cigars still in the plastic wrapper.

She pulled it out and brought it to her nose, but years stuffed in a drawer had stripped away the smell. She put it back and sifted through the other drawers, skimming old files for clients of Rivers and Ravencroft.

With a small dip of her stomach, she realized her habit of taking personal notes and using an old-fashioned file system for her patients was something she learned from her father.

She flipped through the files, scanning the names for any familiar ones. When one caught her eye, she pulled it free and spread it out on the leather desk blotter.

The contents were dull. Only a signed contract and a few invoices.

Rhae moved to close the file, but the cover stuck on a page. Seeing the sticky note tacked to the back of the sheet, she flipped it over.

And her heart launched into her ribs with a hard thud.

A note written in her father’s scrawling handwriting.

Her breath caught. Goose bumps rolled up her forearms.

Rhae,

If you're reading this, then something has happened. I never wanted you to carry this burden, but you’ve always been braver than I gave you credit for.

You must be careful. Trust no one tied to my business.

Especially Ravencroft. If anything goes wrong, it will be him.

He always had designs far beyond our agreements. If he comes for you, run.

Her breath trickled out in a weak rush. Her father knew to warn her.

But of what?

Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. Her father had tried to protect her, but what would make him leave a note in such an obscure place?

She turned the files over and read the name on the tab again: Pearl. Of course. Why hadn’t she realized it before? Pearl was her grandmother’s name. He knew if she came looking, the name would stand out to her.

Her heart thundered fast. Was it possible the file was a decoy? A fake way to convey information to Rhae?

She searched the documents again, but there was no other connection to her family in the contract or invoices.

What did her father want her to know? That note made it sound like he knew his life was in danger.

A faint creak on the floorboards outside the study door had her snapping the file shut and stuffing the sticky note in her pocket. Just as the door opened, she stood to face whoever was entering.

Ravencroft stood in the doorway.

Dressed in his usual tailored gray suit, he looked totally out of place among the collection of worn, well-loved things.

Her throat clicked on a hard swallow as she watched the man obviously calling the shots.

Not for long.

She tilted her jaw and met his stare. It was time to throw out all the stops. “My father left me a note.”

Ravencroft didn’t immediately respond. He stepped inside and quietly closed the door. “I was wondering when you’d find one of your father’s notes. He left enough of them. I thought I got them all—where did you find it?”

Her mind whirled. “There were more?”

He started toward her. She cast around on the desk for some object to defend herself. A paperweight or a letter opener. But there was only a book and a framed photo of her in high school.

“He warned me about you,” she told him.

“Of course he did.” His tone was buttery smooth. “But it changes nothing, Rhae.”

Suddenly, realization broke over her like an icy wave. She felt the undertow tearing at her footing.

“You killed them.” The words left her mouth before her mind caught up to the meaning. Her voice cracked but didn’t falter. “You killed my parents. You orchestrated it all. To get me?”

He tilted his head as if considering whether to deny it.

Then he shrugged.

“They were in the way. Edward planned to take off with you and your mother. To disappear with you. He wanted to protect you. I wanted to own you.”

Bile rocketed up her throat. Her heart thundered.

“You watched me grow up! I was a child!”

He took a step toward the desk, toward her. The heavy walnut furniture wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to rip her out from behind it and carry her out the door.

Denver! Hurry!

She reached out and snagged the first thing she saw—a rather thin book her father had left on the desk. She held it up like a weapon as Ravencroft stepped closer.

“You always were spirited, even then. I thought you’d grow up and see reason.”

“Reason? What reason?”

“That we belong together.” He started around the desk.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“Rhae.” He rolled her name off his lips with a tenderness that made nausea swirl up her throat. “Marry me. Be mine.”

“Never.” She bit the word off with all the vitriol she could conjure.

He smiled. Now that she knew his plan for her, she remembered seeing the same glint in his eyes whenever he gave her that smile.

“You were always running off, doing your own thing. I allowed it for a while. This time, you don’t get to run.”

The panic that had been simmering inside her exploded. “I’m not your possession!” She launched over the desk and made a break for the door.

But Ravencroft had longer legs, and he reached it first, barring her way.

“Let me go! You know you won’t get away with this. Now that I know what you did to my parents, you’re going to jail.” She was still holding the book in front her like a shield.

Too late, she saw the mistake in her words. He either controlled her from this moment forward…or he ended her life to stay out of prison.

No, no, no. There had to be some way out.

“You’re not my possession—not yet. But you will be.”

“You think you can keep me locked up in here?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Rhae. You’ll have privileges—if you earn them.”

Blind panic shot through her again, but she slammed it down. Use what you know, a voice from deep inside her said. Use your training.

Her therapist mind switched back on, and she steadied her voice. “What is it you really want, Ravencroft? Power? Control? Maybe you’re trying to fix something that’s unresolved or you felt powerless in your youth. I’d like to help you explore that.”

His expression didn’t change, but he didn’t move toward her again. He stilled in the doorway.

“You always were a clever girl. But I’m not your patient.”

“No. But you’re still human. Some part of you wants to be understood.”

“I don’t need understanding. I need obedience.”

“Obedience isn’t love.” Her stomach wobbled at the mere thought of submitting to any person, let alone this man.

“Love is an illusion. Only loyalty matters.”

Tears flooded over, and she was helpless to keep them at bay. “You murdered my parents. You’ll never have my loyalty.”

That small quirk of his lips vanished. He jerked out a hand and reached for the note sticking out of her pocket. She made a grab for it, but he unfolded it and skimmed the words her father had written, warning her of this.

He crumpled it in his fist and dropped it on the floor. “It changes nothing. You can fight and scream, Rhae. But nobody is coming for you.”

We’ll see about that.

He didn’t know Denver. Didn’t know his family. The Malones would never stop searching for her. They would reunite her with the man she loved and with her child.

When he left the room and locked her in, she thought she would feel relief at being alone. But fear and his words gnawed at her.

The house was sealed tight. She hadn’t shared anything about her family with Denver—he wouldn’t know where to start looking for her.

And Ravencroft had been planning this for years.

She collapsed against the bookshelf, legs buckling. Her lungs burned for air.

A foot away lay the crumpled note, and she closed her fingers around it, holding in the last remnant she had of her father. This room was filled with photographs of her parents.