Captive Beauty

“When you receive a gift, you say thank you.”

“I never asked for a gift.”

“That’s the definition of a gift, isn’t it? A thing given willingly without the expectation of payment.”

“But there will be payment.”

I give her a one-sided grin. “Coat. It’s cold out.” I’m now holding it for her to slide her arms into it.

“Where are we going?” she asks, taking the coat from me and putting it on herself.

“Sleepy Hollow.” I don’t look at her when I say it. I don’t even know why I’m taking her there. I haven’t been back in years. Part of me wants to go. To see it again. But another part, maybe the smarter part, says stay the fuck away from the past.

“Sleepy Hollow?” She’s scrunching up her face, confused.

I nod and gesture to the man standing at the elevator that we’re ready to go. The doors slide open a moment later and I nod in the direction of the elevator.

She moves into it. “How long will we be there? What’s up there anyway?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” We’re riding down to the garage.

“Give me one answer and I’ll stop.”

I turn to her, my gaze sweeping over her face. “My house.”

“I thought this was your house.”

“My other house.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. She’s quiet until the doors slide open and we’re at the garage.

“I’ll drive myself,” I tell the driver waiting beside the SUV. My head’s in a weird place. It’s like I’m talking and moving, but it’s not me. Like I’m watching myself go through the motions because I’m trying to make sense of what the hell I’m doing. Why I’m going back. “Is everything in order at the house?”

“Yes, sir. Ready for your arrival.”

I look at Cilla, take her arm to walk her around to the passenger side, open the door and gesture for her to get in.

“Why are we leaving the city? What did you mean you took care of everything?”

“Because I want to and I mean your rent is paid and apartment secured while you’re away. As far as work, you’re a freelance journalist. You can write when I don’t require your…services.”

That last part makes her stop. “Am I going to be safe?” she asks finally, quietly.

“Finally a question that matters.” I give her a cold grin. “You will be safe, but you will also be obedient. You made the trade to save your useless brother’s legs. You offered up anything I want. This is what I want. Now get in.”

She climbs into the truck. I close the door and walk to the driver’s side, taking my time. I take the keys from the man I’d usually have driving me, get in and start the engine.

“Can I at least stop by my apartment and get some clothes? My laptop?” she asks. “I mean, if we’ll be there for a while.”

She’s fishing for information, but thing is, I don’t have it. Not even for myself.

“I’ll get you what you need.”

She sighs, looks ahead as we pull out of the garage. It’s so quiet for the first fifteen minutes that I switch on the radio to break the silence.

“He’s not useless,” she says when I do.

“What?”

She’s not looking at me. “Jones. He’s not useless. You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know he was willing to let his sister sell herself to save his ass. I’m being kind when I use the word useless.”

She turns to me, her gaze fiery. “Like I said, you don’t know anything about us.”

“Then enlighten me. It’s a long drive.”

She shakes her head. “Why did you have a doctor check me out?”

I glance at her. She’s looking straight ahead. “You don’t think all I’ll expect from you is conversation, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not stupid, you just could have asked.”

“I’d rather be certain.”

“What about me?” she asks, defiance in her tone. She’s shifted in her seat to look at me now. “What if I want you tested?”

I give her a wide, toothy grin. “I’m clean.”

“I’d rather be certain.”

“You’re going to be fun.”

Her shoulders slump as she leans back in her seat and watches traffic crawl by.

I turn my attention to the road too, my mind busy. Hugo arranged for a cleaning crew to get the house ready for us early this morning. It’ll take more than a few hours to clean all the rooms though. So much has been shut up. Helen, who worked for my father and then my uncle, will travel to the house later today as well. I know she’s gone back to the place since that night. Someone had to make sure of the upkeep. When I told her I wanted to return to Rockcliffe House early today, she just looked at me for a few minutes before nodding her head, telling me she’d be ready to go this afternoon.

I glance over at my passenger. She’s wrong about me not knowing anything about her or her brother. I know they grew up in foster homes, their parents having been killed when Jones was fourteen and she was twelve. No relatives to take them in and too old for adoption. They bounced around for the first two years, but then stayed with one family until Jones’s eighteenth birthday where he was granted guardianship of his sister. Ironically, the judge who did that was also the man with whom they both had lived for the last two years of their time in the system. And what did Jones do after that? He fucked up over and over again, and his little sister cleaned up for him over and over again.