Lot of time had passed.
And yet the only thing on her mind was the man standing behind her.
“Marisol?”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry?”
“I asked where you would like to start?”
“Ah … upstairs, I think.”
Heading out into the living room, she picked up some of the unformed boxes, slipped some rolls of tape on her wrist, and took the stairs up. At the landing, she decided … her room.
It was the work of a moment to set up one of the medium-size boxes, the tape ripping out with a noise like fabric tearing, her teeth helping her scissor strips off, the four sides becoming solid and capable of holding things.
Her grandmother had been doing Sola’s laundry long enough that the woman had known what clothes were favorites and had already brought them over to Assail’s. What was left in the bureau were the second stringers, and she tossed them over without sweating any folding business: yoga pants that had been washed so many times they were dark gray, not black; turtlenecks that had lost their elastic around the throat but were still functional in a pinch; bras that were a little frayed at the cups; fleeces that had pilled up; jeans from high school that she used as a scale to judge her weight.
“Here,” Assail said gently.
“What…” As she looked at his handkerchief, she realized she was crying. “Sorry.”
Before she knew it, she’d sat down on her twin bed. And after blotting at her eyes, she stared at the handkerchief, running the fine fabric back and forth under her fingertips.
“What ails you?” he asked, his knees cracking as he knelt beside her.
Looking over, she studied his face. God, she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought it was harsh. It was … beautiful.
And his extraordinary moonlight-colored eyes were pools of compassion.
But she had a feeling that was going to change.
“I have to leave,” she said roughly.
“This house? Yes, of course. And we shall put it on the market, and you—”
“Caldwell.”
The stillness that came over him was as pronounced as a burst of activity—everything changed, even as he remained in the same position.
“Why.”
She took a deep breath. “I can’t … I can’t just stay with you forever.”
“Of course you can.”
“No, I can’t.” She refocused on his handkerchief. “I’m leaving in the morning and taking my grandmother with me.”
Assail burst up and paced around the cramped room. “But you are safe with me.”
“I can’t be a part of the life you’re living. I just … can’t.”
“My life? What life.”
“I know what’s coming next. With Benloise gone, you’re going to need to get your product somewhere—and you’re going to solve that problem in a way that puts you in charge of not just supplying Caldwell’s many retail customers, but wholesaling the eastern seaboard.”
“You know not what my plans are.”
“I know you, though. Dominance is what you do—and that’s not a bad thing. Unless you’re someone trying to get away from all”—she motioned her hand back and forth—“this.”
“You don’t need to be a part of my work.”
“Not the way it goes and you know it.” She glanced up at him. “Might be true if you’re a lawyer, but you’re not.”
“Yet you consider leaving me a better option?”
Funny, a part of her perked up that he was talking like they were a couple. But reality stomped that little wink of sunshine out. “You think you’ll start another career?”
The silence that followed answered that one the way she thought it would.
His voice was annoyed. “I fail to understand the abrupt turnaround.”
“I was kidnapped from my home, held against my will, and nearly raped.” As he recoiled as if she’d slapped him, she cursed. “It’s just … it’s about time I go legit and stay that way. I have enough money so that I won’t have to work right away, and I have another place.”
“Where.”
She ducked her eyes. “Not here.”
“You’re not even going to tell me where you’re going.”
“I think you’d come after me. And I’m too weak right now to say no.”
A sudden scent spiked in the air and she looked around, thinking of those cologne inserts that came in magazines. But nothing had changed—it was just the two of them alone in the house, no Glade PlugIns in sight.
He came across the cheap carpet and loomed over her. “I do not wish you to go.”
“Maybe it makes me demented, but I’m glad.” She brought his handkerchief up to her mouth and rubbed it back and forth over her lips. “I don’t want to be alone in feeling like this.”