: Chapter 31

I make sure to climb out of the big SUV before King can circle around to my side. He’s been in a dark mood since he laid eyes on that cursed painting, and I’d prefer to avoid any sort of interaction with him for the rest of the night.

The garage door is still open, and he waves over a man who must be a part of the security team.

King opens the rear door of the Suburban, showing my suitcases and the few other bags of items. “This all goes inside.” I watch him hesitate, like he’s going to grab the painting himself, but instead, he turns on his heels and stomps into the house.

Feeling awkward, I step forward to take one of the bags, but the security guy stops me with a raised hand. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Vass, I got it.”

I bite my lip, but step back.

Mrs. Vass.

So, the staff, or whatever they’re called, knows about the wedding.

Duh, one of them was our freaking witness.

That memory has me turning and hightailing it back into the house.

It seems dumb to run up to the room I spent so much time locked in, so I just kinda linger in the main entryway, watching the security guy go up and down the stairs with all my worldly goods.

When he comes in for the last time, carrying the painting, I stop him.

“Oh, um, can I have that?”

I almost expect him to deny me, but he doesn’t so much as shrug. He just hands it over.

Then he’s gone, and I’m alone.

I stare at the canvas in my grip. And I know what I need to do. I need to destroy it.

“Oh, come on!” I fling open another kitchen drawer, but I can’t find so much as a single match. “Who doesn’t keep a lighter in their kitchen?”

Rich people, whose expensive gas stovetops light on the first try, that’s who.

Tapping my fingertips on the countertop, I remember the firepit I saw in the backyard.

Maybe there’s a lighter out there?

The sun has officially set, but there’s enough outdoor lighting around the house that I don’t feel like I need a flashlight. Not that I’ve found one of those either.

I hold my breath as I reach for the handle on the doors that lead from the kitchen to the backyard. Exhaling when it opens.

Slipping outside, I shut the door quietly behind me.

I take a few steps before I stop, looking along the back of the house to where I think King’s office is.

I’m not trying to run away. But I still don’t want him to see me. I’d give it a fifty-fifty chance that he wants to keep this damn painting, and I’m not taking that chance.

It needs to go.

I watch for movement in windows, as I slink to the firepit.

The edges are built up with stonework that matches the outside of the house and it’s surrounded with seating and planters filled with blooming flowers. But when I get close enough to look into the pit, I see a pile of fake logs on top of sparkling glass.

Okay, so it’s a gas fireplace. Fine. I’ll just hold the painting over the flames.

Except… Fucking hell, you can’t be serious! There’s no switch. No button. No remote. No way to turn it on.

Groaning, I look back to the house. The control has got to be somewhere inside. But what am I gonna do? Flip every switch I can find then come back out to see if it worked?

Turning away from the house, I bite back the urge to scream and consider my options.

If burning is off the table that really only leaves me with one. Burying it.

The three foot by three foot frame is a bit big for burying by hand, but I can bust it up first.

The idea of bashing it against a tree has merit, and I feel a little touch of hope as I pick my way through the carefully trimmed bushes.

The air is scented with summer flowers, and I make a mental note to hunt down some coffee tomorrow morning and drink it out here.

I’ve been so traumatized these last few days I haven’t even been able to feed my caffeine addiction.

I pass another flower bed, noticing the mulch circling the stems. If worse turns to desperate, the gardens should have dirt that’s easy to dig. But I decide to go out further, past the gardens, past the lawn, and into the woods.

The further I go, the darker it gets, the dramatic lighting that shoots up the side of the house not reaching this far.

I have a moment to wonder if this is a bad idea, not knowing if the security team has a shoot first, ask questions later policy.

A low bark scares a little scream out of me, and I whirl around, canvas in front of me like a shield.

“Damnit, Duke!” I let the painting fall to my side and slap my empty hand over my chest. “Heart attacks, remember?!”

He just woofs again, then trots the rest of the way to me, demanding a head scratch.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Duke bumps his big head against my leg, like he’s agreeing.

I eye him for a second, “You’re a clever boy. Any chance you know how to start a fire?”

His tiny tail wags, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth, but he doesn’t supply me with a lighter.

“Alright,” I sigh, then perk up. “I bet you can dig a good hole though.”

We stare at each other for another moment, and I’m glad we had our we’re friends now meeting in the house, because out here, in the dark, he looks like a damn monster.

“Any thoughts on where we should bury this thing?” I lift the frame that’s starting to get a bit too heavy.

Duke chuffs, bonks his head against my hip again, and then trots off, diagonally from where I’d been heading.

I start to jog after him, then remember that I don’t jog. “Slow down!”

Duke slows, and I once again wonder just how smart he is.

With the dog at my side, I rest my hand on the top of his head as we walk, lazily scratching him behind the ears.

We talk about dinner. About how I still love peach cobbler. And how I’ll sneak him some ice cream next time I have some. And then, like a mirage in the desert, I see fire.

Not like a scary amount, but like a firepit amount. Like the exact freaking thing I was trying to find.

“Did you…” I look down at Duke. “Did you find me fire?”

He doesn’t answer, just picks up the pace.

As we get closer, the details get clearer.

Glancing behind me, I can still see the main house, but back here at the far corner of the mowed lawn, is a cute, not so little, house that I hadn’t known existed.

There’s a back patio with a string of lights suspended around the perimeter, and just outside of that is a raised fire pit, with real fire, surrounded by a circle of wooden chairs.

We’re only a few yards away, and now that I can hear voices, I’m second-guessing if I should be here.

But Duke takes the choice away when he barks, and all three heads turn to look at me.

I’m standing in the shadows but I still lift a hand. “Um, hi.”

Silence greets me, and I take a step back, before someone stands, raising her own hand in a wave. “Savannah?”

“Cici?” I ask back, even though I can tell it’s her.

She looks at the two other people, widening her eyes, until they stand too. “This is my sister, Ginger.” She points at a woman who looks just like her. “And that’s Jamie, her husband.” She points to the guy. “They work here, too.”

I take a few steps closer, so we can all see each other. “Nice to meet you,” I say, feeling like a giant intruder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to just barge in on you guys. I asked Duke if he could light a fire,” I aim a glare at the beast standing next to me, “and he thought he was being super funny bringing me here.”

The man snickers, “That dog is too clever for his own good.”

That one sentence is enough to make me like the guy. And Cici may not have helped me when I told her I was a prisoner, but she has made me some damn good food.

Ginger, the only one I don’t have an opinion about, nods to my hand. “Looking for a fire while carrying around something flammable. Shall I assume…?”

Alright, I like Ginger, too.

I only hesitate for a moment before stepping all the way up to the circle of chairs. “If you’re assuming that I’m looking for a way to burn this painting, then yes, you are correct.”

“What’d it do to you?” Ginger smirks.

The question hits in a tender spot between my ribs, but I ignore it, and answer honestly. “It ruined my life.”

Three sets of eyes blink at me. And a tiny whisper in the back of my mind asks, did it though?

“I’m sorry!” Cici blurts.

I have to look around, to check that she’s talking to me.

She wrings her hands together. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t…well, do anything. Yesterday, when you came down for dinner.”

“Oh, um…” What am I supposed to say to that? No worries seems a little weird, but I don’t want her to feel bad. “It’s okay,” I shrug. “It’s not like King would’ve let you just open the front door for me.”

“It’s just that he’s actually a really good boss. And I know…” she presses her lips together. “We know that other stuff goes on, but I’ve never seen him treat a woman poorly. So…” it’s her turn to shrug.

“Look,” I move between the two empty chairs. “If you help me torch this bitch,” I hold the monochromatic David up. “Then we’ll be even.”

I turn the painting toward me and look at it one last time. I’ll need to do another image in white to reclaim my love for the style. But this one. This piece…

Heaving out a breath, I reach forward and set it flat on top of the fire. Paint side up.

For a moment, the image is backlit, illuminating each stroke of my brush, but soon enough, the flames eat through the canvas.

“Pity,” the guy says. “That was cool.”

“You painted that, didn’t you?” Ginger asks, and my gaze jumps up to hers. “I’m the housekeeper, so I’ve seen the new art studio Boss set up.”

I nod. “Yeah, I painted it.” The corners of the frame reach the edges of the firepit so even as the canvas turns to ash, the frame holds its shape. “Do you guys know Aspen?” I ask, before I can stop myself.

They all nod and Jamie mutters intense under his breath.

I laugh, and drop into one of the chairs. “Her husband bought that from me.” I gesture to the fire. “And then he asked me out.” Ginger gives a low whistle. “So, imagine my surprise, when I brought him with me to a friend’s house, but Aspen and King were already there.”

“No!” Cici gasps.

“Yep.”

“That why the boss kidnapped and married you?” Jamie asks with a furrowed brow, proving that the whole property knows what’s happened.

Fuck it.

“No, he kidnapped me because I saw him kill Leland.” Saw is a close enough description.

“Damnnn!” Ginger sounds more impressed than shocked.

“It was after that, that King came up with a list of reasons that only make sense to him, for me to marry him.”

The edge of Ginger’s mouth pulls up. “At least he’s nice to look at.”

“Hey!” Jamie fakes indignation. Sounding like they’ve had this conversation before.

“I heard the kiss was really hot.” Cici chimes in.

My mouth drops as I turn to the cook.

“What kiss?” Ginger asks.

I slap a hand over my eyes and groan. “How do you even know about that?”

She laughs. “I heard it from one of the guys, who heard it from Steve.”

“Of course you did.” I drop my hand. “Do you guys have any booze or anything?”

Ginger lifts a hand-rolled joint that I hadn’t noticed from the arm of her chair. “Or something.”

My brows raise and I sit forward. “I haven’t gotten high since college.”

She grins. “Fancy breaking your streak?”

Block out my current situation and pretend everything is fine?

“Yes, please.”

“That’s not how it goes!” Ginger snaps at Jamie, making all three of us laugh. They got on a debate about song lyrics ten minutes ago, and each disagreement is funnier than the last.

Duke groans, and I reach above my head to pat his neck.

After sitting around the fire for…a while…Duke started trying to climb into my chair with me. But he didn’t really fit. Not to mention he weighs a literal ton. So, we compromised, by lying in the grass, me using him as a pillow, watching the stars twinkle above us like a bunch of polished jewels.

I fill my lungs with the fire-tinged air, appreciating the outdoors for the first time in a long time.

I need to do this more.

My eyes do a slow blink.

It’d be nice if King was here.

Wait…no.

I don’t want that.

Even if he is so handsome. And that body…

He’s everything that turns me on. And it’s annoying. He should be hotter and richer and badder than everyone I’ve ever met.

Badder?

Is that a word?

He’s bad.

A bad man.

A big bad handsome man who makes me tingle from the inside out.

“She’s thinking about that rich as fuck husband.” Ginger’s comment slips into my consciousness, and I grin.