Chapter 103

[MIA]

I didn't see Alex for two days after that night. He wasn't at the house at all, not even for dinner. I tried to hide my disappointment, but I must not have been doing a good job because Lana frowned and told me he sometimes goes away on business for days.

That worried me. His business usually involved guns and bloodshed. I had to control myself—he was my abductor. He was forcing me to stay, and our physical relationship was purely convenience. It was my stupid attraction to his looks and lifestyle, not him. Worry had no place here, especially not if I was going to escape one day and never look back. Hopefully.

Over the next two days, I surmised the location of his room at the end of the hallway. When I "wandered" near it, Lana sneered and told me to stay away.

I also found the library. It turned out I was allowed there all along; it contained only books—fiction and nonfiction. Nothing about case files or the fire.

I still hadn't located Alex's personal library, if he even had one.

On the third day, at lunch, Alex was downstairs, lounging on the couch with an iPad.

"Y-You're here," I said, unable to hide my surprise.

He looked up, his trademark smirk spreading across his face. "Missed me, cupcake?"

"No," I said, crossing my arms. "It's just that you're my only interaction all day. Lana isrobotic," I added, sensing Lana frown. "And Greg's been on leave since you weren't here."

"Greg?" His eyebrows shot up. "Who the f*** is that?"

"Your chef?" I gave him an obvious look.

He didn't seem to recognize the name.

"Greg? Blonde hair? Has a daughter? Your head chef? Makes you dinner every night?"

"And why do you know so much about my employee?" Alex looked unamused.

I shrugged sheepishly. "I bake in the kitchen while he cooks. Wetalk."

"Do you?" he asked, his disinterest evident. "What do you talk about?" He hissed the word "talk" as if it were a crime.

"Justabout his daughter," I whispered. "I like kids."

"You are forbidden from talking to him."

"Huh?"

"You need a hearing check, cupcake?" he quipped. "I said, you are forbidden from talking to him."

My mouth dropped open. "You—you can't do that!"

"What did I tell you on your first day here? Who does your life belong to?"

"Y-You," I protested, "But you don't get to dictate my friendships!"

"If you want your friends to be alive, stop making unauthorized friends. Or I will kill him, and anyone else you befriend."

I stared at him, his words striking a nerve. The thought of him killing my friends, his possible involvement in Alina's death, consumed me, along with the sudden shame of sleeping with him. I had slept with my best friend's potential murderer. I had slept with a murderer. Jenny…

"Are you crying because I denied you a friend?" His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I hadn't realized how teary my eyes had become.

I sniffed, wiping away my tears. "No."

"Then why are you crying?" He stood up, watching me with a twitch in his eyes.

(Because I slept with you and I think you murdered my best friend.) "Because I miss grass," I lied.

"You what now?"

"I miss grass," I repeated, louder. "It's been three weeks. There are only so many books I can read or TV shows I can watch. I—I want to walk on grass and feel the fresh air. This air conditioning is suffocating."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. What you're saying is understandable. I can take you totouch grass, I guess."

I gulped. "You—you can?"

He looked at Lana. "Ask Dom to clear Gate 6A."

"But Sir—" Lana stopped when Alex glared at her. She nodded and left.

I stared at him. "You're really taking me outside?"

"Just to the garden. Don't get too excited."

"I—Why?"

"Do you want to touch your grass or not?" His question silenced me.

I remained quiet as he led me to the other side of the house and opened a long, transparent window revealing the garden.

It was huge, with the promised green grass interspersed with flowers—dandelions, daisies, and tulips.

I couldn't see an exit to the outside world yet, a way to leave this kingdom he had created, but the garden ended somewhere, and beyond that was freedom—a reassuring thought.

My toes curled as they touched the cool grass, the breeze hitting my face. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed this until now. It was as if I could breathe again.

"I—I love the grass," I told him. "I played soccer as a kid."

He eyed me suspiciously from the doorway.

"Yes, me." I rolled my eyes. "And I was quite good. I led my team."

"Led your team where? To failure?" He deadpanned.

"Ha-ha." I mocked him. "Did Alex King make a joke? A fifth-grade joke, but a joke?!" I pretended to be shocked. "He's human? Alex is a human?"

He smiled—the most genuine smile I'd ever seen. Not lopsided, not a smirk, not smug. Just a smile.

It was contagious, and I smiled back. "You know, some might consider it unfair that you know everything about me and I know little to nothing."

"Then it's a good thing that 'some' are not here to comment."

I pouted. "Still. Tell me something. I want to know about you."

He sighed, giving in. "What do you want to know?"