Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(74)

I looked at Stephan. "We're okay, Stephan. He's upset, but he has impeccable self-control. You never have to worry about me with James, and he and I have some issues that we need to work out on our own."

Stephan studied me carefully, trying to figure me out, but he took my words in and finally just nodded. "I'm here for you if you need me. Always."

I nodded. "I know it."

James hooked a finger into my collar, gripped the back of my neck lightly and began to lead me upstairs without a word. He was in a state, and every obstacle between us and privacy was just antagonizing it.

He shut and locked the bedroom door behind us with a sharp and very definitive click.

I watched him loosening his tie as he strode directly to the elevator. He pressed the button and it opened instantly.

"Get in," he said brusquely.

I slipped out of my shoes and walked inside. He followed me in, and we descended to the fourth floor.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Mr. Reticent





He hooked a finger into my collar when the car opened, leading me down that long hallway. He stopped short of the playground, instead opening a door just before it on the right.

Even feeling nervous and anxious, I was beyond curious to see what was in there. It didn't bode well though, that he was only taking me there now that he was in this mood.

It was a rather small and nondescript room, holding nothing but one twin bed. 

"Get on the bed," he said in that worrisome voice. "On your stomach."

I did it, turning my head to look up at him as he approached my prone figure.

"Don't look at me," he said.

I turned my head away quickly, feeling stung.

"Arms above your head," he ordered.

I complied.

He secured my hands and feet together and to the small bed. I tugged experimentally, and saw that he'd left me quite a bit of slack.

I tensed when I felt him pulling at my clothes. A loud tearing sound told me that he was cutting them off. I was bare when he was done.

"James," I began again. Maybe now that I was restrained he would feel calmer.

"Don't. I don't trust myself right now," he said in a gruff voice.

He adjusted my head, wedging a soft pillow there. "Go to sleep. You were up all night, and I need to go get myself in hand. We'll talk later."

Before I could respond he was turning out the light, shutting the door and a loud lock was clicking into place.

I couldn't believe it. After all of that rage, he'd just left me. He knew that this was the punishment I hated the most, with the suspense and the unanswered questions, and he'd left me in the dark. In a cell. The bastard.

I had some dark thoughts about him for quite a while in that pitch-black room before I was able to relax my mind enough to let sleep take me. He hadn't left me so much as a light under the locked door. I was shut in tight.

I awoke as the door opened and a stream of light from the hallway fell across me. I turned my face away. The overhead light switched on. My restraints were already loose, but Mr. Cavendish added some slack to the rope, pulling me up by the shoulders until I was sitting up.

I squinted at him, my eyes still adjusting to the sudden light. He was shirtless and sweaty, his hair tied back. He held a plate of food on his lap.

He untied my hands, put the plate in my lap, and turned away. I watched his stiff back for a while, wondering what to say.

I ate. Because I was hungry, and because I was hoping that if I ate that James would start talking when I was done.

I ate maybe half of the seasoned chicken, brown rice, and spinach before I handed it back to him.

He took it without a word, stood up, and left.

He had turned off the light then shut and locked the door before I realized his intent.

"James!" I shouted.

He didn't respond.

I was so frustrated that I screamed.

I was so furious and anxious that it took me even longer to relax into sleep that time. Eventually my body just gave into the relentless darkness.

When I woke again it was still dark, but there was the faintest line of light showing through the side of the door. It was ajar.

I sat up, testing my wrists and ankles. I was free. I moved slowly to the door, pushing it open.

I had to squint against the bright hallway light. I blinked away the darkness for long moments while I took in the hallway.

James sat in a chair that was set against the wall, wearing nothing but his boxers. He was slumped forward, his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. It was such a defeated posture for him.

I approached him slowly, tentatively. I couldn't tell if he was napping.

"James," I said quietly.

"Call me Mr. Cavendish," he said in a low voice. He didn't move.

I'd been so angry with him, furious really, but it drained from me more quickly than I would have thought possible as I took him in.