Chapter 27
Wolves
Gemma
ALONE IN MY room, I wrap my silk robe tighter around myself. I feel numb. Alone. And for the first time since I started this charade, scared.
I used to only see red, but now I see black and white and a bit of gray as well.
Light at the end of the tunnel or my doom, though, I’m not sure.
Staring at the brown craft paper that once covered the pieces of art that are now in Enrique’s possession, I try to picture the end but I just can’t see it.
The road has been dark, and I fear the ending will be just as dark.
The door opens.
My heart gallops at the thought that Caleb might be back. I whirl around, ready to run into arms.
It’s insane.
Crazy.
And I know I shouldn’t.
It’s not Caleb though, and I freeze midstep.
“Gemma, angel, I must be leaving.”
“Okay. Will I see you tomorrow?” I pray to God I won’t.
Enrique shakes his head no. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to return until Saturday.”
I force a frown on my face. “Okay. I’ll miss you,” I lie.
With a smile he says, “It will go quickly. You’ll be busy.”
My smile is real. “Are you letting me go back to work?”
“We already discussed this.”
“I just thought—”
He cuts me off. “Tomorrow you’ll go to the museum to meet with Penelope. There are less than thirty days before the benefit and she thinks there’s too much to get done.”
The benefit planning is a no-brainer. I got that. It really is complete. Penelope is just being a controlling bitch, but it’s not like I can tell him that. “Will I be driving myself?” I ask, trying to figure out what Caleb’s fate is without asking.
He looks bored. “Smith will be taking you the rest of the week.”
I stare at him in question. Smith is his personal bodyguard. “But what about you?”
“I’ll be with Lamar on a retreat, so I won’t need him. He’ll keep you safe, I promise. And after the museum tomorrow, I’ve instructed him to take you to see your father.”
“Has something happened?” I ask, suddenly alarmed.
“No, don’t fret, angel. I just thought you’d like to see him before he’s transferred to The Cove.”
The Cove.
Very expensive.
Private.
Far away.
Something else to hold over my head.
The best place for my father.
Another reason that when he says jump—I ask how high.
The Cove.
A specialized convalescent home located in Los Angeles for patients in a catatonic state. A condition my father will more than likely never recover from. The condition he suffers from because of Enrique.
“Don’t you want to see him?” Enrique asks.
“Yes, of course,” I answer, unable to muster any emotion but the sheer sadness I truly feel.
Still at a distance, he says, “I thought so. I’ll phone you with the details of my next visit. I’ve left a box on the table for you. I’d like you ready this time.”
I start toward him, unbeckoned. “Yes, of course,” I tell him once again, like the robot I am.
He gives me a nod. “And Gemma, while I’m away, I’d like you to clean out your closet and discard anything unsuitable.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond before he closes the door in my face.
The hot and cold treatment is getting worse. Lately I anger him more than I please him. Even after everything I went through to get the paintings, his appreciation was short-lived.
That only tells me one thing . . . time is running out.