A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)(7)

Unlike the rest of the house, it is exactly the same. Exactly. Not a single item has been moved in four years.

I exhale without realizing I’ve been holding my breath. Relief pounds through me like a pulse. If Mom and Dad changed my room, I would probably have a nervous breakdown.

“Jesus, Lindsay, don’t do that again,” Drew rasps in my ear as he sets me down. The brush of hot breath against my earlobe makes me shiver. All the heat in my body pools between my legs. And then it begins to throb, like a beacon begging for Drew to find his way home.

For four years I have suppressed every sexual feeling inside me. My therapists told me that was unhealthy, but I didn’t care. Don’t care. Never, ever cared and never will.

My body is betraying me, though, as it comes alive from Drew’s touch.

“Don’t do what? Faint? So sorry to disappoint you, Drew. I’ll work harder to control involuntary responses to overwhelming situations next time, and all just for you.” Sarcasm fills my voice, the sound dripping with contempt. I have to marshal the negativity. If I don’t, the sound of my own craving will fill the room and Drew will hear it.

Know it.

And reject it.

He flinches, but doesn’t back down. “I meant,” he says, eyes made of steel, “that you have to be more careful.”

“Worried about my safety, suddenly? What a refreshing change.”

This time he goes silent, nose flaring with anger, mouth tightening.

Daddy walks in and looks at me with an expression of concern tinged with something more calculating than just a father’s worry.

“Maybe you’re not ready to come home, Lindsay.” Daddy and Drew exchange a look. “Maybe this is too soon,” he adds. Drew’s face remains blank.

No.

Hell, no.

A switch in my brain flips, pushed by the sheer force of my will to go from A to B. Click. I give him my best fake-genuine smile, tempered slightly with the pretend feeling of being overwhelmed by fainting.

By life.

“I’ll be fine, Daddy. Just fine. I need a few days to adjust,” I say in an even tone. I’ve practiced this for four years, and fooled the staff at the island, so Daddy’s no match for me.

His shoulders relax, tension pouring out.

Right answer.

“That’s my girl,” he says, already thinking about the next major item on his daily To Do list. Anya, his long-time executive administrator, walks in the room, head bent over a clipboard and a stack of files, a wireless phone earpiece in her ear like something out of a Star Trek movie.

“Senator Bosworth, the foreign relations committee is holding an emergency session on...” Her voice trails down as she realizes Drew and I are in the room.

“Lindsay!” Anya’s steel-blue eyes light up with genuine warmth. Her ash-blonde hair is coiffed perfectly, cut in an easy, layered style befitting a fifty-something woman, and she’s wearing a pearl-grey suit. For fun, she runs triathlons.

Daddy wouldn’t know when to go to the bathroom without Anya. She runs his life. Daddy thinks he’s the big, powerful senator with all the connections, but if Anya ever quits he’d be as helpless as an infant.

“Hi,” I say, waving awkwardly from my bed. I sit up on my elbows. Thankfully, I chose to wear pants for this homecoming trip. I tuck my feet under me and sit up, grabbing a pillow for support. Suddenly, vulnerable, I feel like I’m naked even though I’m fully dressed.

Anya gives my dad a questioning look. “You didn’t mention Lindsay was coming home.” She’s smiling and friendly, but there’s a tone under those words. I feel instantly vindicated. Anya’s clearly been on my side this entire time.

Unlike Daddy and my mom.

And Drew.

“We weren’t sure until the last minute that she was,” Daddy says, matching her tone. His message is clear: Don’t cross me on this.

The only hint that Anya’s disturbed by all this comes from the slight widening of her eyeliner-heavy eyes. Tight cheeks rise up in a smile.

“What a wonderful surprise!” Anya turns away from Daddy, drops her armload of papers on my desk, and reaches for a hug. I stand, my legs more sure than they were just a couple of minutes ago. Drew reaches for my elbow, as if to steady me, but I pretend I don’t notice.

He doesn’t actually touch me. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but in the balance, I think I’m more disappointed than relieved.

Knowing that makes me panic.

And flush.

Anya’s hug is warm and sincere, the first true welcome I’ve felt since I escaped from the island and walked into my own house. It occurs to me that my mother isn’t here. I haven’t seen her. Is she even home?

I open my mouth to ask, then stop myself. Daddy, Drew and Anya are all giving me covert side glances. I’m under a microscope. Now isn’t the time to ask about Mom.

Besides, I pretty much know the answer. Why would she be here today, of all days, when she could only make the time to visit me once a year on the island?

A raw feeling pulses in my chest. It rises up, threatening to strangle me. Like hands on my collarbone, wrapping around the soft skin of my neck, it seeks to cut me off from my life source. I can’t breathe. My skin hums. I’m being watched in my own home. This is supposed to be my safe place. My sanctuary.

Maybe I’ve traded one prison for another.