Page 7 of Searching for Hope

The car pulls to a stop but I don’t get out. I sit in the passenger’s seat, fidgeting. I peer over at Barrett.

“Is he really annoyed?” He doesn’t answer. Instead he gives me this look I interpret as ‘what the fuck do you think?’ and I sigh deeply. “I think I might just sleep in the car.”

Barrett chuckles. “Well, buckle up if that’s the case because I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“You aren’t staying at the apartment?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got somewhere else I like to stay in the city.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and I pretend to gag.

“Way too much informa—”

I jump, startled, as my door is yanked open and Jericho grabs my arm, heaving me outside. I stumble and almost fall but Jericho holds me tight. I laugh. Stupid idea. My laughter just infuriates him more.

“I told you not to leave.” His voice is low and barely controlled. His eyes flick between mine as though hoping to find some sort of remorse. He’s shit out of luck.

Despite the lateness of the night, or rather earliness of the morning, he’s still wearing his suit, although the jacket has been discarded and his shirt is open at the throat. My eyes get stuck on the dip between his collarbones. For a moment I’m caught in imagining what it would be like to run my tongue over it.

Channeling the nonchalance I’d witnessed in so many girls at the dance company, I toss my hair over my shoulder and lift my chin. “Turns out you knew where I was the whole time, so I don’t see the problem.”

Jericho keeps a firm grip on my arm as he leads me inside and to the elevator. I totter along beside him, finding it difficult to keep up with his lengthy steps. He glares at me and I roll my eyes.

“I was fine.”

“That’s not the point.”

The elevator dings and the doors open. Jericho steps inside, dragging me behind him. There’s a man waiting and his eyes move up and down my body slowly. A smirk appears on his face. Jericho’s arm shoots out to stop the door from closing.

“You can catch the next one,” he says to the man.

“But I’m going to the fifth level.”

“Leave,” Jericho says more firmly.

This time the man doesn’t argue and bustles out of the elevator.

“Rude.” I snort.

“I wouldn’t have needed to ask him to leave if you weren’t flashing your underwear for all the world to see.”

I frown, confused by his comment. I’m fully dressed. Well, apart from my shoes which I hold in my other hand. And then I catch a glimpse of my reflection. My underwear, wet from swimming, has dampened the material of my dress. My red underwear under my white dress.

I laugh and then cover my mouth when Jericho’s frown deepens.

“This is why I didn’t want you to come. This isn’t a joke.”

I roll my eyes. Again. Then I laugh again because it reminds me of the way Dominic rolls his eyes. Then I stop because I remember I’m supposed to be serious.

“I just needed to blow off a little steam. I haven’t been away from your stupid sanctuary for weeks. You kept me captive for days, remember?”

The doors open at the exact same time those words leave my mouth. There’s an elderly couple waiting. They look at each other and then back at us.

“Are you okay, dear?” the lady asks.

Jericho pounds on the button to close the doors. “She’s fine,” he says sternly.

“I’m fine!” I call back to the woman as the doors close and wave at her, hoping to allay her fears. At least she was nice enough to be concerned, unlike the brute of a man next to me.

Jericho doesn’t loosen his grip on my arm as he leads me off the elevator and down the hallway. He swipes his card and the door lets out a little beep before he pushes it open. Once inside, he lets go and heads straight for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. Quarter of the bottle is gone before he looks at me again.

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