Intense

“But I don’t want to go,” she says. “I want to finish my contract.” She looks at me, pleading, and I don’t understand.

“You’ll still have to come with me,” Lucille says.

“NO.”

The two women look at me, clearly surprised. I practically shouted it and I look down at the glass in my hand. My knuckles are white.

“Aria,” I say, getting some control. “Please go back upstairs.”

“But—“ She starts, but I cut her off.

“Go,” I say. “Now.”

She hesitates then turns and quickly walks away. She disappears up the staircase and out of sight.

Lucille looks back to me. “Mr. Locks, we need her. I can’t leave until she’s ready to go.”

“Get out,” I say quietly to her.

“Excuse me?”

“Get out of my house.” I feel like I’m regaining some control now, though my edges are all frayed.

“I can’t do that. I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand,” I growl at her. I walk from behind the counter and move toward her. She backs up, fear on her face at whatever she sees in my expression.

“You want to give her back to that fucking monster. And the worst part is, he doesn’t give a fuck about her. It’s just one more slap in my face.”

She tries to protest, but I hold up a hand. She continues to back down the hallway and toward the door.

“No, don’t argue with me. Richard Taylor is a piece of shit, and he won’t take this away from me. You can go back and tell your Syndicate to go fuck themselves. Aria is mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

She stops in front of the door and stares at me, regaining some composure. “You’re making a mistake,” she says.

“Get out,” I repeat. “You can have her back when our contract is finished.”

“Very well.” Lucille turns, opens the door, and then leaves.

I walk back into the kitchen, feeling numb. I pour myself another drink and sip it, standing in front of the sink.

The world feels like it’s filtering in through a very small keyhole. Dimly I’m aware of things, but they flit and shake through my consciousness, though nothing sticks.

What is real? How can I ever see the truth now? So much is tangled up in this. Could this have been Richard’s plan from the start?

Who is Aria Taylor?

I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s a lie as I feel myself perched on the edge of something. The only things keeping me from tipping over is anger.

Anger threatens to rip everything else apart. I won’t let Richard win, that fucking bastard. He won’t get the best of me. I won’t let a man like that win.

I don’t know who she is, but Aria doesn’t deserve it.

I clench my glass and knock the drink back, mind buzzing.

22

Aria

He doesn’t come that night or the next day. I’m not really surprised, but I don’t understand what happened back there.

When I walked into the room, he looked at me like I was a total stranger. Like I was a ghost, bursting out of a closet. He was spooked at first.

And then he was angry. I don’t understand why The Syndicate wanted to take me back. That woman didn’t explain, only said that something came up, whatever that means. But clearly Ethan wasn’t happy about it, whatever it was.

He refused to let them take me. That makes me happy, a strange sort of happiness. He defied The Syndicate, a very powerful group of people, just to keep me. That has to mean something real is happening between us.

But the way he looked at me... it sends shivers down my spine. I don’t understand it. What did that woman say to him that made him look at me with suspicion?

When Jenkins brings my breakfast, he doesn’t say a word to me. I try and ask him questions, but he simply acts like I don’t exist. And when he leaves, I hear a click at the door, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he locked me in.

I sit out on the balcony, eating breakfast and trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I can escape any time I want, since it wouldn’t be too hard to climb down the balcony and get to the sidewalk. But I don’t want to leave.

I want to know why he looked so disgusted with me. Maybe I can explain. Obviously it has to do with why that Syndicate woman was coming to take me back, but beyond that, I can only guess.

And so I spend the day in anxious worry. I guess that I’m being held captive, since the door is locked, but I don’t feel trapped. I know I can get away any time I want. I just don’t understand why Ethan would want to lock me in here when he knows that I won’t leave if he doesn’t want me to.