Page 15 of Forbidden Pawn

Slowly, I follow the path that starts from the terrace right outside the building. It’s such a shame. With care and attention, this space could be revitalized to reveal its sophisticated, structured beauty once again. I wonder why he never took careof it. The house itself looks impeccable, almost too spotless, but the garden looks like no one has tended to it in years.

“A little curious, are we?”

Startled, I spin on my heels to find him standing right behind me, a menacing look on his face.

Shit. It looks like I’m in trouble.

Chapter 10

Ryker

She looks as if I just caught her doing something wrong. But I was the one who forgot to lock her up. And I never told her she wasn’t supposed to move around the house. But maybe I should have. I don’t want her running around the premise and doing God knows what while I’m too occupied to monitor her. But I can’t leave her locked up in that bedroom all day either, can I?

Maybe that’s what I should be doing.

“There are cameras all over the house, just so you know,” I tell her, pointing to one of the security cameras that is located right above the French doors she just walked through. “Most of them are hidden, but they are there, trust me. I can see everything you do around here.”

That’s a lie. I only have cameras on the outside of the house and one in the living room, watching the French doors that lead out to the terrace, and another one in the entrance area. But she doesn’t have to know that. It’s best if she thinks I had an eye on her.

She squints at the camera, and I notice a brief tremor going through her delicate body, but she tries to hide her apparent shock.

“Of course you do,” she says. “That’s probably a good idea, considering your line of work.” She pauses, before she adds: “And the people you work with.”

“It also helps to keep an eye on unexpected house guests who are a little too curious for their own good.”

“You don’t have to babysit me,” she says.

“Obviously, I do. What were you up to?”

“I was bored, so I went for a little walk,” she explains. “Is that forbidden?”

The frown on her pretty face is so cute that it almost makes me laugh. I’ve always had a thing for feisty girls who could stand their ground, and she’s showing to be much more than a helpless little pawn — which makes things easier and harder at the same time.

“It’s not, but I’d prefer it if you stay close,” I tell her.

She sighs and idly scans the garden. It’s not well kept, because I never hired a new gardener after firing the last one, when he started asking too many questions about my job and the people who I was meeting. He wasn’t trustworthy in the same way that Enzo is, so he had to go.

“This garden looks pretty sad,” Grace states the obvious. “How come you’re not taking care of it like you do with the rest of the house?”

She doesn’t look at me, but keeps her eyes locked on a row of dried up rosebushes right before us.

“I can’t be bothered to,” I say, trying to ignore the tiny stab that’s poking at my heart.

I try not to think of my deceased mother all too often, but I know she would hate seeing this. She always loved gardening, and she had a soft spot for plants and flowers. She treated them like pets, like friends even, talking to them, caressing them with her tender touch. Watching her tend to the plants in our home and out on the fire escape is one of the few fond memories I have of my desolate childhood. She always dreamed of having her own garden, a garden like this, with rosebush-lined pathways and a majestic fountain at its center. I wish she had seen this garden when it was still in its former glory. I wish she had seen it at all, but she died before I became the man I am today.

“Can I do it?” Grace asks. She’s looking at me now, her eyes wide and inquiring.

“Do what?” I ask back.

She rolls her eyes. “Take care of the garden. Fix it up a bit, I mean. I could start by pulling out the weed and get rid of all the old foliage, maybe even plant a few things here and there. It’s almost summer, after all. It would look so much nicer if it was tidy, and if there were some fresh flowers.”

I knit my brows at her suggestion. “Why would you want to do that? It’s a lot of work.”

“It’s something to do. It would keep me busy,” she says. “And it’s better than sitting up in that bedroom all day long. It’s not like I could do any harm out here, right?”

She looks away when I try to catch her eyes with mine to find the lie in them. Is she serious about this?

“Do you know how to do this?” I want to know.

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