Page 50 of Playing with Fire

Xavier relaxed, but only marginally. He moved through the space like a predator assessing new territory, touching nothing but seeing everything. I could practically feel him logging potential threats, escape routes, vulnerabilities.

"Eight cameras that I can see," he muttered, "plus whatever's hidden in the fixtures."

I moved to the windows, analyzing the view. "We're on the second floor, eastern exposure. About thirty feet to the ground. There's a security perimeter about a hundred yards into the tree line."

Xavier shot me an appreciative glance. "You catch on quick."

"Army training has its uses." I shrugged, continuing my assessment. "The trees would provide decent cover if we needed to make a run for it, but I'm guessing there are motion sensors everywhere."

"Along with infrared, probably pressure plates on the grounds, and God knows what else," Xavier agreed. He ran his fingers along the edge of an end table, his face unreadable. "He's not just keeping people out. He's keeping us in."

I let that sink in, the knowledge settling uncomfortably in my stomach. We'd traded one prison for another, albeit a much more luxurious one.

"Chance," Xavier called suddenly, "resume monitoring."

"Audio monitoring resumed," the AI responded promptly. "How may I assist you?"

"You report to Algerone, correct?"

There was the briefest of pauses. "I have reporting protocols to Mr. Etremont regarding security concerns and operational status. However, personal interactions with residents are confidential unless they pose a threat to safety or property."

"Define 'threat,'" Xavier pressed.

"Physical harm to self or others, attempts to compromise the security system, property damage exceeding standard wear and tear, or actions that would violate Mr. Etremont's explicit protocols."

"And what are those protocols, exactly?"

Another pause, longer this time. "I am not authorized to disclose Mr. Etremont's complete security protocols. However, I can confirm that your safety is the primary directive, Mr. Laskin."

Xavier's jaw tightened. "Of course it is."

I moved to his side, close enough that our shoulders touched. The contact seemed to ground him, some of the tension leaving his body at the simple point of connection.

"Let's check out the rest," I suggested, nodding toward a hallway that presumably led to other rooms.

Xavier followed my lead, his fingers brushing mine as we moved deeper into our gilded cage. The hallway opened into a bedroom that made me stop in my tracks. The centerpiece was a massive bed that could easily fit four people, covered in what looked like absurdly expensive linens in shades of charcoal and deep blue.

"Your preferences have been accommodated, Mr. Laskin," Chance informed us. "The room temperature is set to 68 degrees, which our records indicate is your preferred sleeping temperature, and the bedding is hypoallergenic."

Xavier's eyebrows shot up. "My preferred— How the fuck do you know that?"

"Mr. Etremont maintains comprehensive profiles on family members for comfort and security purposes."

The implications of that statement hung heavily in the air.

"Chance, activate privacy mode," I said quickly, wanting to give Xavier space to process without an audience.

"Privacy mode activated for Master Bedroom."

Xavier's shoulders sagged as soon as the AI confirmed our privacy. "He's been tracking my fucking temperature preferences?"

I didn't have an answer that would help, so I just moved closer, letting him decide if he wanted contact. He did, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me against him hard enough it made my breath catch.

"At least he got one thing right," Xavier murmured against my hair.

"What's that?"

"Putting us together. I wouldn't have stayed otherwise."

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