Hooked (Never After, #1)(51)

“You knew who he was?” I blurt out. “This whole time...”

His lips twitch, and he backs away, the fire in his eyes disappearing as fast as it came.

“Did you know who I was?” The question burns my throat, tears blurring my vision.

“Of course.” He picks invisible lint from his sleeve. “I knew who you were the moment you walked into my bar.”

My fractured heart cracks from the sudden pressure in my chest.

Of course he did.

Nodding, a grim type of acquiescence settles into my veins. It’s thick and wet, like deep mud, and I know the more I struggle, the further I’ll sink. “I think I’d like to take a shower now.”

His brows lift as he points to the bathroom.

I stand up and move inside the room, closing the door behind me. My fingers grip the metal handle, my head resting against the cool wood of the frame. I hold my breath until my lungs cry for air, and even then, I don’t let it out, afraid that once I do, I’ll scream. I’m confused, my emotions tugging me in a thousand different directions. I don’t know whether I’m stupid for not making a break for it, or if I’m smart for trying to make a plan. I have no idea if after tonight I’ll get thrown back into the dark and cold stone room, or if he’s just going to kill me once and for all.

That would definitely send my father a message.

And then there’s the guilt, and that, on top of everything else, is the strongest. It splits through my stomach and reaches up my chest, clawing its way through my insides until it attaches to my throat.

Because I feel so goddamn relieved to be here. To take a shower. To breathe in fresh air. To have human interaction, even if it’s with the person responsible for everything. And what kind of person does that make me—to feel grateful for the good, when the source is a man threatening everyone I love?

Everything will be fine.

A memory of leaving Jon at Rockford Prep flies into my head, Hook’s words—although he was James to me then—play on a loop.

“Just remember, that whenever things feel bleak, all situations are temporary. It’s not your circumstance that determines your worth, it’s how you rise from the ashes after everything burns.”





29





James





“Will she be staying tonight, sir? I can make up the guest room if she is.”

I look over to where Smee is standing in the kitchen, drinking from a mug of tea.

Cocking my head, I take a sip from my own cup, the liquid singeing my tongue as I swallow. “Why would you assume she’d be staying anywhere other than in my bed?”

His eyes widen the slightest bit, and curiosity sneaks through my thoughts at his sudden interest.

“No reason. I just thought I’d offer.” He walks to the kitchen sink, placing his cup in the basin before spinning around to lean against the lip. “I won’t be around tonight, and I didn’t want to leave you with the setup is all. I know how you like your own space.”

I lift my chin, my gaze soaking up his mannerisms. He seems on edge, almost like he’s uncomfortable that she’s here. “Big plans?” I ask.

I’ve never taken an interest in Smee’s personal life, and quite honestly, I still don’t care. But talking to him is a distraction from the girl locked in my room, and I find myself craving a break from the anger that surfaces whenever I see her face or think her name.

Smee grins, running a hand through his hair, the kitchen lights glinting off his dark brown strands. “You could say that.”

“Well, I appreciate your hospitality, however it won’t be necessary.”

I’m undecided on what to do with her after the gala. Part of me wants to throw her back in the JR’s basement and let her rot. It’s no less than what she deserves. The other part wants to tie her to my bed and use other means of forcing the truth out of her. It infuriates me that she still acts as though she’s innocent. Like she has no idea what she’s done.

No matter, I’ll be able to tell a lot from the way she interacts with her father this evening. I sent the twins ahead, ensuring that our plates were at the guest of honor’s table, and I can’t wait to see what’s on the menu.

Loud knocks pound from down the hallway and I smirk, draining the last of my tea and placing it back on the counter.

Smee’s eyes widen as he looks toward the noise and then back at me. “Is she stuck in there?”

I stand, buttoning the jacket of my tuxedo and walking past him, pausing to squeeze his shoulder, the muscle tensing under my palm. “What I do with my toys is none of your concern, Smee.”

His eyes go flat and he inclines his head. “Apologies, boss man.”

I wave him off, smiling. “Forgotten.”

My hand slips into my pocket, retrieving the skeleton key as I walk to my bedroom door. The banging is loud, the force of Wendy’s knocking making the wood rattle against the hinges. I slide the metal into the lock, the door clicking as Wendy’s flushed face greets me, her fist poised halfway in the air.

The corner of my lip lifts. “Is everything alright? You sound awfully frustrated.”

The ruddiness of her cheeks makes a vision of her beneath me flash before my mind, and arousal spears through my middle. I shake off the thought and glance down her form, the dress I had Moira pick out hugging her every curve.