So much for respecting my wishes. I asked him not to give me any special treatment, and what does he do? He gives me his old office. It’s a beautiful space, with a solid cherry desk, matching bookshelves, and leather chairs that go with the loveseat, all framed by a spectacular view of the mountains.

“Everyone is going to hate me.”

“Why would they?”

“The accounting department downstairs isn’t quite the executive offices,” I state the obvious, walking around the freshly painted space and kneeling to feel the fluffy carpet.

“You’re not just any accountant.”

I laugh at his ridiculous remark. “So what kind of accountant am I?”

“You handle my mother’s affairs, Sterling’s business, and the charity fund.”

“So, this is like a personal favor?”

“I’m giving you exactly what Dad was already planning. Nothing more, nothing less.”

I study his eyes, then his posture. He’s distraught about the board, and I’m not making it any easier for him. How can I get him to understand that I don’t want any of the staff to think I’m only here because of nepotism?

He hired me to be Sterling’s accountant and manage his portfolio because he hates to charge for is art. His mother is an independent woman. I just don’t think they need me.

“Sir, sorry to interrupt you,” a man enters the office without waiting for us to acknowledge him.

My stomach gets queasy as I detect a citrusy, fresh male scent. It’s not strong but it hits my memory bank hard. I close my eyes briefly reminding myself that I’m with Wes, at work.

“Good morning, Lucian,” Wes answers. “Let me introduce you to Abigail Lyons.”

“I didn’t know we were hiring new personnel.” His gaze narrows as he looks at me from top to bottom.

“Your face looks familiar. Abigail, you said?” The way he enunciates my name sends a shiver racing across my skin.

He doesn’t know me. I swallow through a suddenly tight throat, fighting the fear. Air. I need air. I fight off a rush of emotions, but I’m losing the battle. My sight becomes distorted when the man walks toward me with his hand extended; his grin increases. The way he stares at me makes me tremble. He’s a predator about to catch his meal. My breath quickens and my heart beats wildly. I can’t breathe. It’s him.

Think, Abby, think.

It’s the muddy green eyes with brown flecks—the crooked nose—the same scar on his chin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extends his hand. “I—”

Suddenly, it’s not Lucian’s voice that I hear. It’s him. Corbin. I’m gasping for air, fighting the anxiety, but keeping my eyes open to make sure that he won’t do anything. This time I won’t let him. I can scream, run … he won’t catch me this time.

“You look hungry, Abigail. Ava didn’t work for her meal. How about you?”

“Breathe for me,” Wes says slowly. His voice pulls me away from the old house. I’m no longer in the dark room, but back in the comfort of the office with him. “You’re safe with me.”

I’ll never be safe from my past. God only knows if I’m safe from Corbin.

The fear crashes into me unexpectedly. Why did Lucian trigger the memories? I was dragged all the way back into his world. I could feel his breath, feel his voice vibrating throughout the dark room.

I cry, recoiling into a small ball.

“Where are you, Abby?” Wes asks, studying my face.

His thumb moves, caressing the delicate skin of my inner wrist.

“I’ll bring some water, sir,” I hear Lucian’s voice.

This time I can differentiate that it’s not Corbin.

“You’re here with me,” he says with a calm voice. “Safe. Always safe.”

“Safe,” I repeat but I don’t believe it.

“You’re safe with me. It’s us. Always us,” he kisses my palm.

It’s a casual gesture, one he’s done many times. Except today it feels different. Intense. It sends ripples of pleasure awakening every nerve in me. I can feel the stroke from the kiss all over my body. Deep inside my soul. This doesn’t make sense. Each and every emotion inside of me seems to be focusing on Wes. They press against my chest in the same way I wish he’d press his body against mine.

Hug me. Take me in your arms, I want to beg.

I don’t know if I speak out loud or if he reads my mind, but the next thing I know he’s sitting on the couch, taking me in his arms. His warm hold, his earthy scent mixed with clean skin create an ache in my chest that expands all the way down to my core. I begin to cry. The tears are for Ava, for Abby, and for everything I lost in that room.

But I also mourn my heart. Weston Ahern and I are the kind of people who share a friendship that will never become romantic love.

We remain in the same position for a long time. I can’t stop the tears from falling. Lucian isn’t my stepfather. His resemblance to what still torments me to this day was just too close. The voice, the way he looked at me as if I were his next meal was too much, and it pushed me into a panic attack.

When my stepfather, Corbin, came into our lives, he seemed like a dream—or at least he appeared that way to my mother.

He played the single father who’d lost his wife in a tragic accident. A man who was left to grieve and be the sole caretaker of his two children.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wes asks when I finally calm down.

I don’t answer. There are things I can’t say. I know what could happen if I were to reveal his secrets.

Wes canceled all his meetings and took me home. We shopped for my furniture online from the comfort of his house. The man who can move heaven and earth made sure that what we purchased would arrive at my apartment the same day. Once the stuff was in place, I excused myself and took a shower to wash away the memories.

Wes said that he’d be going back home to make a few calls. I took him away from the office for an entire day—while he’s trying to show the board that his only priority is the company. This was what I was afraid of and wanted to avoid—losing my mind in the middle of the day. Shit like this never happened in Berkeley.

Without giving it a second thought, I turn on my laptop and begin updating my resume. I don’t have much experience, but there must be a company out there searching for an accountant. My degree and skills are practical and necessary. I could get a job anywhere in the country. Wes might be upset at first, but he’ll eventually understand that it’s for the best. What’s the point of living here when neither one of us can find peace?

I hate myself for being so weak. Should I go to therapy? And then what? How is anyone going to help me?

Linda took me to a few different therapists. None of them worked out. They wanted to know what had happened to me, not give me the tools I needed to cope. Neither of them could understand that I wasn’t going to talk—ever.

No one will never know what happened that night. They can never know. I should leave, just run away tonight.

He’s going to find you and when he finds you … he’ll take you back to the room.

I run to the kitchen and hide inside the pantry. He’ll never find me here. At least, not tonight.