“Deadly.”
I stare back at him, knowing he really is. He thinks he’s helping me. He’s trying to do the right thing. I got him so wrong. But I know what he was like the night he was after me. I know what his intentions were.
He takes my hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Sloane, I’m not exactly a pillar of the community. I’ve built my wealth by quietly rectifying injustices for others, often for a hefty fee.” His lips twist up at the sides when he sees the curious way I’m looking at him.
“You’re, what, a hit man for the rich and famous?”
“Something like that.” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. But clearly it is.
“That’s how you pay for this place? Killing people,” I whisper.
“Bad people,” he grumbles, and I can tell he doesn’t appreciate my judgment.
“Still,” I mutter, not sure what to make of his admission. I knew he wasn’t one of the good guys, but knowing he makes a living by unaliving people is something else entirely. “You fucked me up, Orlando. I had nightmares for years because of you. I’m a different person because of what you did to me.”
His head drops. “I’m not that person anymore, treasure.”
“How do you expect me to believe that? I look at you, I see that tattoo on your chest, and I’m right back in that room fighting for my fucking life.”
His hand comes to my cheek, softly, so tenderly, his gaze locking with mine. “I understand if you can’t move past who I was. But I can promise you this, treasure, I will never do anything to hurt you again. And I will make sure the asshole hunting you down will suffer for ever thinking he could.”
My heart kicks up a beat. I believe him. I know I shouldn’t, but I have seen it over the last few days. He’s done everything to keep me safe, even if I have done all I can to test him. But the fear won’t just disappear. I have spent nine years haunted by that night. Hating this man; that doesn’t just go away because he says he’s reformed. No matter how much he lights up my body when he’s this close to me.
Chapter 10
Mymedshavekickedin, and I’m grateful that he’s allowing me to take them again, but I still feel strange, not at all like my normal self. I suck in a deep breath and push the warm air out through my clenched teeth. As I look out over the ocean. It seems to stretch on forever in a way that makes me feel out of control. Orlando and I have been out here on the pool deck since he decided it was a nice enough day to eat our breakfast out here this morning. When we were done with our muesli, yogurt, and berries, he pulled out his laptop and started his work for the day.
The sun is shining down on us, warming my skin, and the water looks so crystal clear I can see right to the bottom of it. It’s beautiful, so tranquil, but also makes me feel trapped. I miss the chaos of the club. The constant lineup of questions from staff and never-ending jobs that need to be done. I miss being in charge. I wasn’t built to sit around in a fancy dress and look pretty on someone’s fancy pool deck while he works beside me. It’s just not me. I’m the boss. I sigh again, leaning back in the reclining chair and allowing my eyes to shut. With nothing else to do, I guess I will just sleep the day away.
“What’s wrong, Sloane?” Orlando grumbles, and I feel his eyes on me.
I pop my eyes open and glance his way. “What am I supposed to do all day long? I’m used to being busy. Sitting around staring at the ocean is relaxing, but I’m going to lose my mind if I just keep resting with my foot up.”
He cocks a brow. “Dr. Harrison said you have to rest.”
I roll my eyes, feeling the frustration bubble up through me. “I’ve had enough rest, Orlando, I rested yesterday. You get to work, why can’t I?”
“Ihaveto work,” he complains.
“So do I, my club is probably falling apart without me. You could at least give me a notepad and pen where I can write some of my ideas down to send off via carrier pigeon to Romeo.” I meet his gaze, a stark silence hanging between us, my flat, humorless tone betraying my attempt at a joke. “What would you do if someone stopped you from working?”
He considers me, his lips forming a thin line. Then he places his laptop on a side table and stands, holding his hand out for me to take.
Reluctantly I accept it, standing with him. He wraps an arm around my waist snugly, and I move back through the house with him in the direction of the room I spent the first night here in.
“Do you read?” he asks.
“I don’t have time to read. I work a fifteen-hour day most days,” I mutter back, exasperated with him.
“Well, now you have time.” He shoves open a door at the bottom of the stairs to reveal a library of sorts. Row after row of books line the shelves, their spines a kaleidoscope of colors and titles.
“Oh wow!” I say, a flutter of excitement running through me. I step out of his grip on me and hobble further into the room soI can check it out. “This place is amazing. And just for you?” I glance back at him.
He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, even though we both know it is. This place would be worth a small fortune, and for him to have invested in it, he’s a reader. I guess what else do you do on the long, lonely nights at this place alone. “You can learn a lot from a book.”
I tail my finger along the spines of some beautiful looking history books. “I’m sure you can. Have you read all of them?”
“Not yet,” he says like he’s still planning on it. I wouldn’t have picked him as an avid reader. Every day he surprises me with something new about his personality. “Why don’t you find something to read by the pool this morning.”
