Page 12 of Forbidden Pawn

“What have my brothers told you?” I want to know. I need to make sure my story lines up with whatever he may have found out by himself.

He shrugs. “Not much. Just that they’re very protective of you.”

“That’s it?” I probe.

He lifts an eyebrow at me. “Yes, that’s it. I never asked, so why would they provide me with any information about you?”

I’m surprised to hear that he never inquired about the girl he was so keen to get a hold of. When Tyler, the youngest Reid,told me that Ryker was asking for their sister as a pawn, my first thought was that he must be some kind of pervert. Why else would any man ask for a young girl as a collateral instead of some luxury object, or cars or whatever? No, he asked for a human being, a young girl.

And despite my suspicion, I was ready to jump at the chance to get closer to him. I’ll do anything to get my revenge.

Anything.

“Well?” He’s looking at me, still expecting me to share my — or rather Grace’s — life story with him.

Luckily, I’m prepared for this. I didn’t walk into his arms with no preparation.

“I enjoy reading, and I’m really into architecture,” I say.

“Architecture? What’s so interesting about that?”

I shrug. “It’s where function meets beauty. Like, when you step into a house, it’s not just a roof above your head. I like to see how the place interacts with its inhabitants, how modern conveniences are implemented while still representing historical context, which is something you can witness in a lot of New England mansions as they get renovated. Places like this.”

I twirl my finger around, proud of myself. It’s true that Grace has an interest in things like this. I know this because her brother Tyler told me. But I came up with that little monologue all by myself, after doing a little research on the topic myself.

“Or have you noticed how light plays a critical role?” I pile on. “Windows are such a big deal, the size, the placement. Natural lighting can alter the mood and perception of space dramatically. And materials! The tactility of brushed concrete juxtaposed with the warmth of terracotta tiles can speak volumes about a space’s character, of when—”

“I don’t need a whole lecture,” he cuts me off. “I can tell you’re passionate about this.”

I’m not, but it’s great that you think that. I’m playing my role perfectly.

“Maybe I can come up with a few things to improve your home,” I say, pointedly scanning the room.

“No, thank you.”

“But what am I going to do while I’m here?” I ask. “You took away the only form of entertainment I had.”

He sighs, and a line emerges between his dark brows when he looks at me. “Don’t expect me to entertain you.”

The starkness of his reply makes me flinch inwardly, but I press on, needing to understand the extent of my confinement. “Will you lock me up?”

“Yes,” he says simply, as if we were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “It’s necessary for now. You will have meals provided, and if you want to read, you can get something from my private library. I don’t have too many books here, but enough to keep you entertained for weeks.”

“What kind of books?” I want to know.

But he shakes his head. “I will show you later. Finish your dinner first.”

His words make me chuckle. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

“Then don’t act like one and just do as you’re told.”

I want to remind him that this is exactly what one would say to a child, but I check myself and focus on the food in front of me. I may be a prisoner for now, but at least I won’t be fed like one.

And in our case, it’s not me who deserves to be locked up, but my warden.

Chapter 8

Ryker

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