Page 46

Izzy

“I asked you a question, dammit! What are you doing in here?”

I cower as though David’s words have been thrown at me. Holding my breath, I wait for the worst.

He grips the doorframe like he’s holding himself back. Maybe he’s afraid of what he’ll do if he lets go. But now he takes that step.

My first thought is to seek shelter—flight, not fight—if only I had somewhere to go. I move out from behind the desk, now standing at its side, thinking I’ll leave, but David is blocking the only exit.

I consider screaming, but who would come? Becca and Brody? By the time anyone arrived who could actually help, I’d have the life squeezed out of me and David’s fingerprints all over my throat.

“Izzy, answer my question,” he says, advancing slowly.

Instinctively, I step back, only to bump into his desk. I hit the glass top hard enough to make the computer monitor teeter on its stand. I search for something I can use as a weapon. There’s a pen, but I’m too frightened to make a move.

He comes to me without hesitation, stopping only a foot away. I don’t like how hard he studies me, as if he can view my secrets, extract them from my mind one by one.

“This is my private office. And these are my private things. You have no business being up here.”

My breath quivers. David’s shoulders are clenched like he’s ready to pounce. He feels as dangerous as a live wire. “Well? I’m waiting.”

I’ve never been great at coming up with excuses on the spot. I open my mouth to speak. I won’t be able to walk out of here without some sort of explanation. But all I manage is sputtering gibberish. “I… I… was… just—”

That’s when Mary’s words of wisdom to Bert come back to me. Why make simple things complicated? Why indeed.

“I misplaced my phone charger. I was hoping to find one up here I could borrow.” Luckily, the lie rolls easily off my tongue. It’s a logical reason to come into the office, after all.

I notice David soften slightly. His face goes slack and his shoulders release. He’s processing my excuse like he wants to believe me, but that could be wishful thinking.

“A closed door should tell you to stay out. ”

He leans down, pressing his hand against the desk.

His greasy palm leaves a streak on the otherwise pristine glass.

I gulp as he reaches for his mouse. He must want to check if I’ve been snooping.

Did I lock the screen down? My memory is a blur.

If not, we’re both in for a huge surprise.

He moves the mouse ever so slightly. His computer monitor sparks to life.

Thank God, it brings up the lock screen with the background picture of that mountain.

The password field is empty. There’s no evidence I was in there clicking about.

Whew.

David isn’t satisfied. He stands in front of me, assessing me anew. I’m reminded of the many times I’ve felt claustrophobic in his presence—in the kitchen, in the hallway outside the kids’ room—but this is a thousand times worse.

“I don’t want you coming in here ever again, Izzy. Do I make myself clear?” His hard eyes bore into me. “I don’t have much privacy as it is.” He motions to all the glass. “And that’s by choice. I’m really an open book. With me, what you see is what you get.”

What I see is his face scratched out with a black marker.

“There’s a reason I built a third floor just for me, and that’s so I could have some privacy, which you’ve just disregarded.”

He invades my personal space in a tit-for-tat way, leaning in extra close.

I’m layered with fear. I think of a dozen ways I’ll fight him off if he attacks.

I’ll claw his eyes. Kick him where it hurts.

I’ll scream and punch. In my mind, I’m a rabid wolverine, so look out, asshole, you will not make me disappear, too.

You have no idea who you’re messing with!

But that’s just fantasy. In reality, David reaches out and grabs my arm like he did before, only his grip is much stronger this time. His fingers gouge into my flesh until it burns from the pressure.

I can’t move. It’s as if someone has driven nails through my feet. My legs are as stiff as tree trunks. I don’t dare protest—I’m raw with fear over what he might do. David bathes my face with his hot whiskey breath. His grip softens, but his expression remains rock-hard.

“Do you think I’m a fool, Izzy?”

I think you’re a pornographer and a kidnapper and probably a killer. But wisely, those words stay inside my head.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I squeak out.

David leans in more, almost touching his lips to my cheek as he speaks. “I know you’re lying to me.”

A sudden rush of fear coats me anew. At last, David lets go of my arm. He rests his hip against the desk, which creates a narrow pathway for me to escape, but something tells me that trying to get away would only make matters worse. With or without physical restraint, I’m trapped.

He sends me a crooked grin. “I was in a bind when I hired you,” he says.

His posture is more relaxed now. “But I’m not an idiot.

You’re not an experienced nanny. You’re an overqualified babysitter, at best. Believe me, I’ve seen enough professionals to know the difference.

Why are you here? What is it you’re after? ”

“Nothing. I just really needed a job.” My voice is barely there.

“You wanted a job for two weeks watching five-year-old twins so badly that you lied to get it? I pay pretty well, but you’re not making that much.

” He peers into my eyes long enough to make me recoil.

“No, I don’t think that’s correct,” he continues.

“I don’t think that’s right at all. You’re still not being honest, Izzy. ”

He pulls back, far enough for me to see him transform right before my eyes, a wolf becoming a man.

When he smiles, it’s in an understanding way, as if all is forgiven.

“But we’re here, aren’t we?” he says. “We’re in this together.

And we’re going to make the best of it because I plan to stick around…

for Fiona… and that means you need to help with the kids while we’re sorting all this out.

And I’ll be watching you, Izzy, very carefully, every move, every minute of every day, I’ll have my eyes on you. I’ve had my eyes on you.”

He looks greedy. His lips blossom into a self-satisfied smile. A fierce chill rips through me, because I know what he means. This house, with all its glass, has yet another way to strip away my privacy, and he’s been using it to watch me this entire time.

Cameras.