Not fifteen minutes later, Cilla walks out of her bedroom and into the living room. She’s dressed in jeans, a sweater and a pair of knee-high boots I ordered for her from a nearby boutique. I got the size right. The jeans hug her tight ass and the cashmere sweater displays the small, soft curves of her breasts. The deep crimson sets of her olive skin and dark hair. She’s not wearing makeup and still she’s stunning.

I nod in approval and finish my cup of coffee. Helen takes it from me and I retrieve the black wool coat and hand it to Cilla.

“I have clothes,” she says, looking at the coat but not taking it.

“When you receive a gift, you say thank you.”

“I never asked for a gift.”

“That’s the definition of a gift, isn’t it? A thing given willingly without the expectation of payment.”

“But there will be payment.”

I give her a one-sided grin. “Coat. It’s cold out.” I’m now holding it for her to slide her arms into it.

“Where are we going?” she asks, taking the coat from me and putting it on herself.

“Sleepy Hollow.” I don’t look at her when I say it. I don’t even know why I’m taking her there. I haven’t been back in years. Part of me wants to go. To see it again. But another part, maybe the smarter part, says stay the fuck away from the past.

“Sleepy Hollow?” She’s scrunching up her face, confused.

I nod and gesture to the man standing at the elevator that we’re ready to go. The doors slide open a moment later and I nod in the direction of the elevator.

She moves into it. “How long will we be there? What’s up there anyway?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” We’re riding down to the garage.

“Give me one answer and I’ll stop.”

I turn to her, my gaze sweeping over her face. “My house.”

“I thought this was your house.”

“My other house.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. She’s quiet until the doors slide open and we’re at the garage.

“I’ll drive myself,” I tell the driver waiting beside the SUV. My head’s in a weird place. It’s like I’m talking and moving, but it’s not me. Like I’m watching myself go through the motions because I’m trying to make sense of what the hell I’m doing. Why I’m going back. “Is everything in order at the house?”

“Yes, sir. Ready for your arrival.”

I look at Cilla, take her arm to walk her around to the passenger side, open the door and gesture for her to get in.

“Why are we leaving the city? What did you mean you took care of everything?”

“Because I want to and I mean your rent is paid and apartment secured while you’re away. As far as work, you’re a freelance journalist. You can write when I don’t require your…services.”

That last part makes her stop. “Am I going to be safe?” she asks finally, quietly.

“Finally a question that matters.” I give her a cold grin. “You will be safe, but you will also be obedient. You made the trade to save your useless brother’s legs. You offered up anything I want. This is what I want. Now get in.”

She climbs into the truck. I close the door and walk to the driver’s side, taking my time. I take the keys from the man I’d usually have driving me, get in and start the engine.

“Can I at least stop by my apartment and get some clothes? My laptop?” she asks. “I mean, if we’ll be there for a while.”

She’s fishing for information, but thing is, I don’t have it. Not even for myself.

“I’ll get you what you need.”

She sighs, looks ahead as we pull out of the garage. It’s so quiet for the first fifteen minutes that I switch on the radio to break the silence.

“He’s not useless,” she says when I do.

“What?”

She’s not looking at me. “Jones. He’s not useless. You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know he was willing to let his sister sell herself to save his ass. I’m being kind when I use the word useless.”

She turns to me, her gaze fiery. “Like I said, you don’t know anything about us.”

“Then enlighten me. It’s a long drive.”

She shakes her head. “Why did you have a doctor check me out?”

I glance at her. She’s looking straight ahead. “You don’t think all I’ll expect from you is conversation, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not stupid, you just could have asked.”

“I’d rather be certain.”

“What about me?” she asks, defiance in her tone. She’s shifted in her seat to look at me now. “What if I want you tested?”

I give her a wide, toothy grin. “I’m clean.”

“I’d rather be certain.”

“You’re going to be fun.”

Her shoulders slump as she leans back in her seat and watches traffic crawl by.

I turn my attention to the road too, my mind busy. Hugo arranged for a cleaning crew to get the house ready for us early this morning. It’ll take more than a few hours to clean all the rooms though. So much has been shut up. Helen, who worked for my father and then my uncle, will travel to the house later today as well. I know she’s gone back to the place since that night. Someone had to make sure of the upkeep. When I told her I wanted to return to Rockcliffe House early today, she just looked at me for a few minutes before nodding her head, telling me she’d be ready to go this afternoon.

I glance over at my passenger. She’s wrong about me not knowing anything about her or her brother. I know they grew up in foster homes, their parents having been killed when Jones was fourteen and she was twelve. No relatives to take them in and too old for adoption. They bounced around for the first two years, but then stayed with one family until Jones’s eighteenth birthday where he was granted guardianship of his sister. Ironically, the judge who did that was also the man with whom they both had lived for the last two years of their time in the system. And what did Jones do after that? He fucked up over and over again, and his little sister cleaned up for him over and over again.

Given all of that, this should feel like a fucking vacation to her, and me, I’m her fairy fucking godmother.

Traffic slows us down but when I finally pull off the exit and see the familiar sign to Sleepy Hollow, I feel my gut churn. I want to turn around. Go back. Forget about coming here, but I keep driving. My hands tighten around the steering wheel as we pass gated mansions spread farther and farther out as I approach Rockcliffe House. Cilla is sitting up, really paying attention now. I wonder if she’s memorizing the road. Maybe thinking she’ll have a chance to run. She won’t. I’ll make that clear when we reach Rockcliffe House.

The tall iron gates finally come into view. They’re supported on either side by a large, stone pillar which becomes a six-foot high perimeter surrounding the property. Each of the pillars is topped with a watching gargoyle. And they are truly watching. Cameras are embedded within each one.

I slow the SUV and turn onto the path leading to those foreboding gates.

“This is your house?” she asks, her eyes on the gates, on the turret just visible over the hill behind them.

I don’t answer, only because I can’t. It’s taking all I have to keep breathing. Keep calm.

When we reach the closed gates I stop, punch in a code. The tall iron creaks as they slowly open.

I navigate the SUV through and movement in the rear-view mirror tells me the gates are already closing behind us. Cilla’s leaning forward in her seat to watch now, her mouth slightly open. I keep my eyes on the road even as the house comes into view, casting its shadow over us, bringing memories long forgotten into the foreground of my mind. I pull to a stop before the entrance and switch off the engine. I look around at the overgrown lawn, wet with all the rain we’ve had. I remember playing in it as a kid. Remember Ginny and me out here for hours and hours. We only had each other. Given my family’s line of work, we grew up on our own. Home-schooled, and essentially friendless. Becoming more and more isolated as the years went by and my father’s paranoia deepened. Although, I guess it wasn’t paranoia. Not after what happened to mom.

I clear my throat and steel myself before turning to Cilla.

“Welcome to Rockcliffe House.” Her mouth is still open. I reach over, put a finger under her chin and close it.

She draws back. “This isn’t a house. I guess I have no idea how much money thugs make these days.”

I could take offense, but honestly, I need her distraction right now, so I chuckle.

“You’re pushing your luck, sweetheart.” I get out of the car and walk around to her side. She’s already got the door open and is climbing out.

“Are you going to lock me away from the world for the next thirty days?”

I wrap a hand around the back of her neck and guide her toward the large wooden doors. “It’s tempting to have you at my beck and call.” I stop walking and turn to her, make her face me. My grip is just tight enough to warn. “But you already are. Don’t forget why you’re here. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re anything other than mine. Mine to do with as I please. What happened last night will not happen again. Am I clear?”

She’s watching my face, studying my eyes. Trying to read me. “Or what?” she asks, but her voice is higher than usual, giving away her anxiety.

I lean in close so our noses touch. “Test me and you’ll find out. Please.”

We stay like that for a long minute, and I’m pretty sure she only breathes when I release her. We turn to the front doors that are pushed open, two men standing at attention just inside.

“Boys.” I nod in greeting, my tone casual although the old, closed up smell of the house still carries something familiar in it. My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out. It’s Hugo. I silence it, but need to call him back.

Cilla’s looking around, her eyes like saucers. The formal living room and the dining room, both of which we can see standing in the foyer, have been thoroughly cleaned, and I remember how my mother had wanted to replace the carpet in the dining room where a spill stained it. She never got the chance though.

I turn my gaze to the curving staircase, wide and opulent, the steps white marble veined with black to match the foyer.

“Is the blue bedroom prepared?” I ask.

“Yes, sir.”

“Please take my guest to it. Assign a man to her room in case she needs anything or feels the need to go wandering about.”

She gives me a glare but her curiosity has her following the man up. I head to my father’s study, blocking the memories from my mind. I don’t have time to deal with them just yet. I’ll work now. Give myself until tonight. Then I’ll go out back. Out to the barn. The greenhouse my mom had such hopes for. Then I’ll stand inside and let myself remember.