Stolen Hearts (Hearts 1)

“Homes are for old women. You should go,” he said. “Take your sister and sit on a beach in Mexico or wherever girls like you sit on beaches.”

“Girls like me?”

“You should drink and fuck tennis coaches and sit around fulfilling your useless—”

“Why are you being cruel?”

“Because I am cruel,” he said, leaning forward right into my space. His lips parted revealing his teeth like he wanted to bite me, and my stupid traitor body liked the idea. “I’m cruel, and you’re a stupid spoiled princess, and you’re in so far over your head you don’t even realize you’re drowning.”

“But you’re trying to save me?”

“You get in touch with the Morellis again, and you are on your own.”

He left, and I stayed in the bedroom until I heard the beep of the alarm as he walked out one of the doors on the main floor. And then I ran down the steps and reset the alarm.

But it wasn’t until I was in bed, freshly showered, and fully dressed, that I wondered how he got in my house in the first place.

12

“Are you sure you don’t want to learn how to drive in a different car?” Theo asked as he got out of the town car parked at my front door. The day was bright and smelled like sunshine and spring. Which, not to sound super corny, meant that the day smelled like a fresh start.

I wore an old cashmere sweater that had a moth hole in it, but I’d kept because the color was this beautiful coral that I’d never seen anywhere else, and it made me happy to look at. I tossed a red scarf around my neck and pulled on thin leather gloves that I found in my drawer.

On my feet were my new standbys, my Converse tennis shoes. Looking at myself in the mirror this morning I was well aware that I hadn’t dressed for myself in two long years, and the senator, should he see me in this, would demand I change.

Perhaps this outfit was ridiculous, but it felt good on my body. And that was so novel and strange and . . . important.

“Do I have a different car?” I asked. I’d only ever seen the shiny black town car.

“The senator has a Porsche 911 and a corvette stingray. Or had . . . I guess. They’re yours now.”

Mine now. Wild. What else did I own, I wondered, that I didn’t even know about?

But Porsches and Corvette Stingrays felt like advanced cars, and I was very much a beginner.

“No,” I shook my head. “The town car sounds fine.”

“All right,” Theo said and walked around the car to the passenger seat.

I slid into the expensive leather driver seat and put my hands on the wheel.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Theo answered, and I caught his smile before he could put it back behind the mask he usually wore.

The sun was just coming up, and the spring mornings were cool, damp. All the green trees and grass were shrouded in a thin layer of mist. The Constantine Compound was over the hill in front of me. The turret just visible.

Why didn’t I leave Bishop’s Landing? I wondered. I’d spent most of the night thinking about Ronan’s words. There was nothing really keeping me here. Caroline. The executive director job, which I was pretty sure was just going to be for show.

I had more money than I knew what to do with. I had houses in other cities that I’d never been to.

I’d lived on this hill in Bishop’s Landing for almost my entire life. Except for the year and a bit that I was at school, I’d lived in a house on this hill. I hadn’t really ever vacationed anywhere. No girls’ trips to Paris. No all-inclusives in Mexico. Perhaps the answer to why didn’t I leave was I didn’t know where to go?

Lord. That was sad, even for me.

But what I really felt was something so much more complicated. Something about my sister and my mother and the willow tree and how I’d never felt safe . . . anywhere.

“Ma’am?” Theo said.

“Call me Poppy.”

“That’s not . . .” I glanced over, and Theo was shaking his head. His blond hair was long with a curl to it, and it was a little wild in the damp morning. “No.”

“Okay, but I’m going to call you Theo.”

“That’s fine.”

“So, I’m going to call you by your name, and you’re going to call me ma’am like we’re on Downton Abby or something?”

“I don’t know that show.”

“We’re the same age, Theo.”

“No, ma’am, we’re not.” He was probably ten years older than me, which meant he was still young. We were both young. And now we were alone in the front seat of this car. As far as intimacy with a man, this would have ranked pretty high if Ronan hadn’t come along and blown the curve by putting his mouth on me.