Page 41 of Toxic
I slump back against the pillows, more than a little stunned. Gracin has a house? I think back to the bathroom that must have cost a small fortune. It doesn’t compute with the man I met atBlackthorne.
The questions give me a bitch of a headache, which probably shows on my face since he closes the shades and dims the lights without my askinghimto.
“Get some rest. We can talklater.”
“Idon’t wantto go to dinner,” I shout at the woman who’d come to invite me down. “I want toleave.Now!”
My imperious tone does little to intimidate her, though she’s five foot nothing if she’s an inch. If anything, she absorbs my rudeness, and her fierce scowlintensifies.
“Master Kingsley would like you to join him for dinner. Six o’clocksharp.”
The implication that tardiness is a mortal sin is implied. She leaves, and I throw myself back on the bed, muttering obscenities I don’t have the balls to say to thetyrant’sface.
Three weeks have passed, and I haven’t left the room once. At first, I was too listless, too emotionally and physically drained to do more than the bare minimum: sleep, eat, bathe, repeat. Once the good doctor gave me a clean bill of health a week after arriving, I thought it would either be time for the conversation Gracin and I were supposed to have or time for me to leave if Iwanted.
Boy, was Iwrong.
As soon as the doctor left, I showered, dressed in the clothes provided for me, and went to leave. But the door was locked. It stayed that way until the woman, who I only knew as Marie, delivered my meals. She wouldn’t answer any of my questions and only speaks inorders.
I get the feeling Gracin knows how I am doing, but he hasn’t come back to visit—not that I actually want him to. He could go to hell first. He’d have to starve to death before he found me willingly joining him fordinner.
Four o’clock comes and goes, then five. Then six. My apprehension grows with each ticking of the second hand. The television he must have had installed while I was sleeping only entertains me for so long, and then I’m right back to watching the clock. Ten minutes after, thentwenty.
The clock strikes half past and the lock on my door clicks. I expect to see Marie; I getGracin.
He leans against the door. “Now the only reason why I think you’d refuse dinner is that you’re still too sore to walk yourself downstairs. I wish you’d said something. I would have come up sooner, littlemouse.”
The reminder of the prison, of what had transpired between us, is almost too much. I launch myself to my feet. “Don’t call me that. I’m fine. The doctor says the burns have healed nicely. You don’t need to keep me locked in hereanymore.”
He studies me as if he doesn’t quite understand me but is desperate to figure me out. I don’t like it. In fact, I want himtostop.
“If I go to dinner, will you let meleave?”
“If you come to dinner, I’ll consider it,”hesays.
We both know he negotiates deals only to renege after he’s gotten his way, but I don’t have any other choice. I glance around the room, hating these four walls and knowing that his consideration is about all I’ll get. Besides, at least this time, I’m going down on my terms,nothis.
Gracin waves an arm, inviting me outside into the hallway. Part of me is afraid of what I’m going to find. I take hesitant steps past him, and my jaw nearly drops. There are elaborate hallways in both directions with dozens of doors on either side. This isn’t a house—it’s a goddamnedmansion.
What the hell was a man who could afford a house like this doing inprison?
I shiver as I remember Sal and decide that maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe I just want to get out of here and as far away aspossible.
When he puts a hand on my arm, I jerk back. Touching hasn’t been easy for me since the night with Danny and Co. Gracin must realize that, because he doesn’t try it again. He just says, “This way,” when we have to turn a corner or go through adoorway.
I rub the spot on my arm where it came in contact with his hand and try not to remember where else his hands have touched me. He leads me to an intimate dining room with a view of gardens, which are bursting with color. It’s a far cry from the cold grays of Michigan. It’s funny how you don’t know you miss something until you don’t think you’ll ever see it again, not that I ever thought I’d miss the snow.But in this moment,Ido.
Silently, he offers me a seat at the table, and Marie brings out the platters of food with a smug smile in my direction. “Anything else, Master Kingsley?” she asksGracin.
“Thank you, that will be all. See that we aren’tdisturbed.”
I help myself to the steak and salad as he watches. After weeks of bland hospital-like food, my mouth waters at the mere sight. I keep my mouth full so I don’t have to talk to him, but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He doesn’t eat, just watches, still with the curious expression onhisface.
“Why didn’t you tell them anything?” he asks when I’ve finally cleared myplate.
As I reach for seconds, I consider the man across from me. The dressings may have changed, but the air of brutality sure hasn’t. He’s violence wrapped in a pretty bow. Danger made to shine. Only instead of the prison jumpsuit, his warning label is an Armani suit and a Rolex. Money is power, but on him, it’s alsolethal.
“They only would have killed me faster,” I tell him as I takeabite.