Page 25 of He Will Come for Me

I think about it for a few seconds before shaking my head. “No. I guess because of my previous circumstances.” I take a sip from my glass of wine again before sitting it down and grabbing a piece of bread from the basket. “Maybe I didn’t trust you a little.”

He smiles at me and takes a sip from his wineglass. We eat our salads as I think about how much fun next weekend will be. The server arrives at our table, dropping off our food, and we don’t talk for a few minutes as we dig in. I keep eyeing his steak, but eat my lobster ravioli. He cuts a piece and holds it up on a fork toward me.

“Want a bite?” he asks. I glance from him to the steak and back again. He’s very observant.

“Yes.”

He extends his arm further across the table, so I lean forward, keeping my eyes on him as I place my teeth around the tines of the fork and he pulls it away slowly. Heat settles in my stomach as I keep my eyes on him. I chew slowly, unable to look away.

Why does this feel so intimate? What would he do if I were to give into the white hot lust vibrating through my veins?

I hum at how good the steak tastes. I close my eyes to savor it and to break the connection with him. It’s too much; I can’t handle it anymore. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way at all, but the boy I knew in school is not the same man that’s sitting in front of me.

Swallowing the steak and taking a sip of wine, I turn my attention back to him. “I remember you from school, but that’s the last time I remember seeing you,” I admit.

He pauses in cutting his steak as he stares at me for a few seconds. His expression doesn’t give him away.

Does that upset him? That I don’t remember him buying me at the auction. What has happened since then? It’s the end of November. How soon after he bought me was I kidnapped? He said he bought me, and my father couldn’t stand it, so he kidnapped me. Would he have kidnapped me if anyone else had bought me? Or is it because Phoenix bought me? The son of his enemy.

“Do you know why my father sold me?” I ask as I move food around on my plate.

He sighs as he puts his fork and knife down. “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that.” He lifts the napkin from his lap and wipes his mouth.

“I do.” Dread settles in my stomach. I know I’m not going to like the answer, but I have to know. I need to know.

“Do you remember Mr. Reynolds?”

I squint my eyes at his answer. “The dean of the academy?”

He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Yes.”

I lean forward, mimicking his posture. He slides his hand across the table and intertwines our fingers. “He wanted you.”

It takes me a couple of minutes to comprehend what he was telling me. “He wanted me?” I remember my father and Mr. Reynolds had a relationship. From what I remember, I think he was the only friend my father had.

Phoenix rubs his thumb over my knuckles. It calms me a little. “Yes, and your father planned on selling you to him at that auction.”

Where did the man go that used to push me on the swing when I was little? Has he completely lost his way since my mother died?I didn’t think my heart could break anymore, but knowing my father had planned it; that he had set it in motion? The little trust I had left in him vanishes.

“Why didn’t that happen?” I squeeze Phoenix’s hand, thinking he might pull away, but he leans forward.

“Because I outbid him.”

“How much did you bid?” I don’t know why I want to know this or even why I need to know, but I do.

“Six million dollars.” He makes it sound like it’s not a big deal, but that is an astronomical amount. “It’s the most anyone has ever bid at one of those auctions, so they didn’t try to outbid me because they knew it would look suspicious.”

I wish I could remember. I close my eyes tightly, trying to force my brain to recall that memory. Sighing in frustration, I open them to stare into Phoenix’s eyes.

“You’ll remember,” he says, reading my mind. “I know you will.”

My tongue darts out to lick my dry lips. I turn to face the bar across from us. I stare blankly at one of the televisions showing a news station. I’m about to turn away when the date at the bottom of the screen catches my eye.

Pulling my hand from Phoenix’s hand, I stand and walk to the bar.Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

The bartender walks over to me. “Can I help you?” she asks. Phoenix calls my name, but it sounds like he’s far away.

I point to the television. “The date.” She turns and looks at the television I’m pointing at. “Is that right?”

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