Keep Me(47)

I need to make sure I always have a connection to her.

“What are you thinking?” Nora asks, a concerned expression on her face, and I realize that I’ve been staring at her for a couple of minutes without saying anything.

I force myself to smile. “Nothing much, my pet. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.”

“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” She looks more puzzled than worried.

“Because there is a rumor Majid may be planning something in Latin America,” I explain as calmly as I can. I don’t want to frighten her, but I do want her to understand why I have to take these precautions.

Why I have to do what I’m about to do to her.

“You think they’re coming here?” Her face pales a bit, but her voice remains steady. “You think they’re going to try to attack the estate?”

“They might. It doesn’t mean they will succeed, but they will most likely try.” Reaching across the table, I close my fingers around her delicate hand, wanting to reassure her with my touch. Her skin is chilled, betraying her agitation, and I massage her palm lightly to warm it up. “That’s why I want to make sure that I can always find you, baby—that I can always know where you are.”

She frowns, and I feel her hand growing even colder before she pulls it out of my grasp. “What do you mean?” Her voice is even, but I can see the pulse at the base of her throat beginning to quicken. As I had anticipated, she’s not overjoyed with the idea.

“I want to put some trackers on you,” I explain, holding her gaze. “They will be embedded in a couple of places on your body, so if you’re ever stolen from me, I would be able to locate you right away.”

“Trackers? You mean . . . like GPS chips or something? Like something you would use to tag cattle?”

My lips tighten. She’s going to be difficult about this, I can already tell. “No, not like that,” I say evenly. “These trackers are currently classified and intended specifically for human use. They will have GPS chips, yes, but they will also have sensors that measure your heart rate and body temperature. This way I will always know if you’re alive.”

“And you will always know where I am,” she says quietly, her eyes dark in her pale face.

“Yes. I will always know where you are.” The thought fills me with immense relief and satisfaction. I should’ve done this weeks ago, as soon as I retrieved her from Illinois. “It’s for your own safety, Nora,” I add, wanting to emphasize that point. “If you had these trackers when you and Beth were taken, I would’ve found you right away.”

And Beth would still be alive. I don’t say that last part, but I don’t need to. At my words, Nora flinches, like I just struck her a blow, and pain flashes across her face.

She recovers her composure a second later, however. “So let me get this straight . . .” She leans forward, placing her forearms on the table, and I see that her fingers are tightly laced together, her knuckles white with tension. “You want to implant some chips inside my body that will tell you where I am all the time—just so I’ll be safe on a remote compound that has more security than the White House?”

Her tone is heavy with sarcasm, and I feel my temper rising in response. I indulge her in many things, but I will not take risks with her safety. It would’ve been easier if she’d chosen to cooperate, but I’m not about to let her reluctance deter me from doing the right thing.

“Why, yes, my pet, that’s right,” I say silkily, getting up from my chair. “That’s exactly what I want. You’re getting these trackers today. Now, in fact.”





Chapter 15

Nora



Stunned, I stare at Julian, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. A part of me can’t believe he’s going to do this to me against my will—tag me like some dumb animal, depriving me of any semblance of privacy and freedom—while the rest of me is screaming that I’m an idiot, that I should’ve known that a tiger doesn’t change his stripes.

It’s just that the last few weeks had been so different from anything we’ve had together before. I’d begun to imagine that Julian was opening up to me, that he was truly letting me into his life. Despite his dominance in the bedroom and the control he exerts over all aspects of my life, I’d started to feel less like his sex toy and more like his partner. I let myself believe that we were becoming something like a normal couple, that he was beginning to genuinely care for me . . . to respect me.

Like a fool, I bought into the delusion of a happy life with my kidnapper—with a man utterly lacking in conscience or morals.