Page 255 of Redeemed

As discreetly as I can, I slide my hand down the door so it’s hovering right over the deadbolt. If I need to, I can slam the door shut and lock it in a matter of seconds.

Mark frowns. “Him and I were supposed to meet today to discuss some things. I know you probably want your husband all to yourself, but you still need to remember your place. And right now? You’re overstepping.”

“I’m not—”

Mark pushes past me and into the house. As he does so, his shoulder knocks into mine hard enough that I stumble backward.

“Be a dear and point me in the right direction,” Mark says. “Is he in his room? His office? The kitchen?”

I stay silent, contemplating whether I should risk trying to make a run for it. He hasn’t shown himself to be a threat yet, but that could change at any moment. Men—especially power-hungry men—should never be trusted.

“He’s not here, is he?” Mark asks.

With a hard swallow, I shake my head.

“Well, I don’t mind waiting. Would you put the kettle on for me? Rainy days and all that. They call for a warm drink, you know?”

I need to call Colton.But I stupidly left my phone upstairs in the loft. Why didn’t I think to bring it down with me?

“Yeah, of course. I just have to run upstairs real quick.”

Mark grabs my arm as I try to move past him. “I don’t think so, Haven. Kitchen, now.”

My stomach twists, both with disgust and fear. Being told to get into the kitchen brings back memories I’d prefer to forget, and his grip is firmer than it needs to be.

“All right,” I say softly. “I’ll go.”

He releases me, and I walk to the kitchen as calmly as I can. Once the water is heating up, I lean against the counter so I’m facing Mark.

With his dark suit and perfectly groomed hair, he fits in here. Sleek, flawless, confident. Maybe those are the things Colton inherited from him, because aside from a slightly similar nose shape and the same square jaw, the two men look nothing alike.

Mark begins humming to himself as he goes through Colton’s tea stash. It strikes me as odd that he knew which cabinet to look through, but I suppose Colton is his son. Maybe he helped Colt move in or something.

“Would you like some tea, Haven?” Mark asks.

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure? Colton has quite the collection.” Mark waves at the still-open cabinet and the shelves lined with boxes, bags, and tins of different teas. “He got his obsession from me. Started him young.”

“I’m not the biggest fan,” I lie. Something tells me I shouldn’t ingest anything this man gives me.

“Ah. Are you a coffee person?”

“I suppose.”

My mind is screaming at me to bolt upstairs to grab my phone, but there are too manywhat ifs.

What if Mark grabs me?

What if he gets to my phone first?

What if he turns violent?

It’s possible I’m being paranoid and he’s really just here for a meeting that Colton somehow forgot about, but I don’t think so. Colton wouldn’t bring his father around me. I know he wouldn’t.

The kettle whistles, and Mark pours some steaming water into a mug before dipping a tea bag in. His movements are calm and nonchalant, yet there’s something deadly about him.

“So, I hear you grew up in a cult. Is that right?” Mark swirls his spoon around in his mug, glancing up at me with a startlingly disarming smile.

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