Page 96 of Corrupting Ivy

“My place.”

“You live out here?”

A slight pang of fear stabbed at my chest as the forest morphed to the one in Texas, and I was suddenly lying across from the hand of a deceased woman. I gripped the door handle until my knuckles turned white and the breath in my lungs burned.

“Yes.”

“But it’s in the middle of nowhere. I thought you ran a business?”

Randall switched from his left hand on the steering wheel to his right and placed his elbow on the door, then rubbed his bearded chin. “I do.”

How can you run a lucrative business and be so far from civilization? Randall turned again onto a long paved driveway, leading to a single-story home with a detached garage and a stunning floor to ceiling window which rounded a corner. I’d seen nothing like that before.

“How far away are your closest neighbors?” I asked while staring at the checkerboard green grass. How did they get it to look like that?

“Half-mile all the way around.”

I blanched. “That’s a lot of acreage.” I’m even more secluded here than I was in Mr. Grady’s cabin.

“Just breathe, Ivy. There are full services here. I even have a maid and landscapers that come by.”

I nodded. Not that it comforted me. “Why do you have so many acres? I mean, I’m not complaining, it’s gorgeous out here, but I thought maybe you were a city slicker.”

He parked the truck at the front door on a rounded driveway that led to the garage. The house wasn’t as large as I thought it would be for someone who had a private jet, but it was staggering all the same.

“I like the peace and quiet,” he said as he got out of the truck.

I watched a large black storm cloud loom overhead, threatening to pour its heavy burden down on us as he made his way around the truck. It would have been something I’d look forward to. Now, all it did was send me back to that night faster than the lightning could travel. Listening to them in my home or the barn back in Montana with a tin roof was my little piece of nirvana. I don’t think I’ll ever get that feeling back again.

Randall opened my door as I unlatched my belt, then reached out for me as I swung my legs over the seat. I swat at his hands. I wanted… no need to do it myself.

He crossed his arms and watched me struggle as I slid myself down his leather seats towards the ground. Now that I’m doing it, it seemed much further from the ground in his truck than his rental.

My slippered feet touched the pristine cement and the burning, shooting pain carved through my muscles as though Mr. Grady’s blade were running them anew.

Tears welled in my eyes as Randall held his hand out again. This time I took it, my hand interlacing with his.

“Being stubborn doesn’t earn you anything but pain. There is no sense in suffering because you don’t want to accept help when it’s offered.”

“Yeah, well, Fords suck. You should get a Dodge.”

He scoffed as I took a step forward. “I’ll keep that ridiculous comment in mind.”

I smiled, walking towards the door, then sucked in my swollen lip as a single tear fell down my cheek. I blew out a shaky breath through pursed lips as he scooped me up gently in his massive arms, then cradled me to his chest.

“Randall, I can do it.”

He carried me over the threshold in a way that had me burying my face in his neck and inhaling his spicy scent. In a way, I think I’d never smell his brand of cologne again without thinking of safety, protection, and the end of my nightmares.

Randall carried me through a L-shaped kitchen with bare countertops and not a single appliance or utensil visible. Was this kitchen for looks, or did he actually cook in it?

The light-colored wood cabinets stood in stark contrast to the black marble countertops, which looked expensive and unblemished. Black leather barstools sat tucked under the counter with a view overlooking the mountains in the far off distance through the bent, floor to ceiling windows.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as he paused beside what I thought was the refrigerator. The front was light wood, matching the cabinetry.

I shook my head and tightened my arms around his neck as he walked me in further through the living room with a small two-seater couch and a chaise lounge connected. It sat across from a massive TV that hung on the wall.

He walked down the hallway, and the first door on the right was a bedroom, his bedroom, and he walked me towards his bed.

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