Page 28 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

Zee sighs, tips his head to stare at the ceiling, and runs one hand over his buzz cut while grasping my hand in his other. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.” At least I have my bodyguard.

Aaden taps his fingers on the table. “I’ll stay. But I still think you’re in danger.”

I snort. “When am I not?”

Aaden’s software will take twelve hours, and it’s seven in the evening. Rolling my shoulders to release some tension, I head to my bedroom and grab my journal. I need to deal with my excess emotions, or else I’m going to burst. Lying on my stomach sideways across the bed, I start with Uncle Charlie. I begin to write, focusing on letting out every thought and feeling, just like Duncan taught me.

I’m upset and hurt he didn’t discuss this assignment with me beforehand. I’m angry he’s thrown me back into a life I hate. I’m disappointed in the person that’s more of a father to me than an uncle, and I miss him.

Archan’s turn. I roll over and stare at the ceiling for ten minutes. Lost for words, I decide I need some air and trudge downstairs to an empty room. I assume Zee and Aaden are in their bedrooms. Opening the doors to the balcony, I lie down on one of the loungers and look at the stars. The night is clear, and the air is crisp, cool, and cleansing. My skin tingles with goose bumps as the breeze drifts over my skin.

Archan’s an arrogant pig who enjoys making me feel uncomfortable. He plays exhausting power games and belittles my intellect. He sees my passion for dance as worthless. I’m angry, pissed, and confused at my body’s response to him. He makes me feel alive and on fire—something that hasn’t happened in a long time… since Dalton. The attraction I feel is unrivaled, but it’s not real—it’s fabricated by him. It’s a ploy to get me to submit and let down my shields. I could fall fast and hard and land on my ass, not my feet. He’s the only person to have ever made cracks appear in my control.

Sighing, I flip through the pages of the journal and stumble upon the bucket list I’ve hastily scribbled in one of the margins.

1. Dance in the rain.

2. Be kissed in the dark by a stranger.

3. Have a champagne breakfast on the Eiffel Tower.

4. Take a carriage ride through Central Park.

5. Take part in a flash mob.

6. Snuggle in front of a fire while in a log cabin in the snow.

7. Skinny dip in the ocean.

8. Have dinner on a yacht by moonlight.

9. Be kissed slowly from ankle to neck (the opposite way to the norm—just to be awkward).

10. Have sex in an elevator.

There’s more, but I try to keep my list below ten—makes it more achievable. Not that I’ve done any of the things on the list since I started the journal three years ago; most of them involve a partner. I let my mind wander.

I suddenly hear Aaden’s voice. “Are you okay?” I snap my eyes open. I must’ve drifted off to sleep.

“I’m fine.”

“You know, it’s in the ‘Man’s Handbook’ that when a woman says she’s fine, she actually means the opposite.” He chuckles. “Then the man has two options: ignore the fact that she isn’t fine, or try to make it better. Which one should I choose?”

Tapping my fingers on the side of the chair, I look up at him. “I need to go out.”

His eyebrows squash together. “Out? How does that help?”

Jumping up, I pat his shoulder and push past him. “If you’re coming, put on your dancing shoes.”

After a quick shower (where I made sure the adjoining door was locked), I pass through the wardrobe, ignoring the fancy clothes, and grab my suitcase tucked in the back. Scrambling through my untidy packing, I locate my ruby dress. It has a plunging neckline held together by spaghetti straps that crisscross several times over my back, finishing at the base of my spine. The bottom ends with a flowing, knee-length skirt. I slip on a pair of silver-heeled sandals, replace the diamond studs with small silver hoops, and let my natural curls cascade down my back. The matching red panties, which are small shorts really, allow me to keep my dignity while dancing. I’m texting Nick—my old dance partner—to ask him if he will meet me at my favorite salsa bar as I open the bedroom door, where Zee is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

I frown. “What’s up?”

“This isn’t a good idea. You’ve pissed off a powerful man who has a penchant for making people disappear.” He doesn’t even check me out; wow, he must be worried.

“Are you coming?” I ask.

“I have no idea where you’re going, but if you’re going out, yes.”

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