I don’t want to think about how his hand felt and how safe I felt for those few minutes when I was supposed to feel terrified because my kidnapper was touching me.
It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.
Leo Santoro is the enemy.
He took me from my wedding, locked me in this house, and used me as leverage against my father.
He’s cruel and calculating and everything I should hate.
Except hewasn’tcruel last night. He was careful and considerate and?—
The door opens and I jump, my fork clattering against the plate.
Leo strides in and I’m immediately struck by how he looks in the morning light streaming through the windows.
He’s wearing dark slacks and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showing off tanned skin and the corded muscles of his arms.
His dark brown hair is still damp like he just showered, falling across his forehead in a way that’s annoyingly attractive.
The scar through his left eyebrow is more visible in the natural light, a thin white line that somehow makes his face more interesting rather than less.
His jaw is freshly shaved, and his dark brown eyes—almost black in certain lighting but warmer in the sun—are focused on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
I can feel heat creeping up my neck and into my cheeks as I think about the other night and his hand holding mine and how close we sat.
Please don’t mention it. Please don’t bring it up. Please just pretend it never happened.
Leo’s gaze flickers to my face and I know he sees the blush, but thankfully—thankfuck—he doesn’t comment on it.
Instead, he just stops a few feet from the table and crosses his arms, his expression neutral.
“You’re allowed to leave your bedroom,” he says without preamble.
I stare at him, stunned. “Huh?”
“You can leave your bedroom,” Leo repeats. “You’ll have access to the rest of the house—the library, the gardens, the dining room. You’ll still be monitored and guarded, but you’re not confined to this room anymore.”
For once in my life, I have absolutely nothing to say.
I just sit there with my mouth slightly open, probably looking like an idiot, trying to process what he just told me.
I can leave this room.
I can leave this god-awful bedroom that I’ve been trapped in for a week.
“Why?” I finally manage to ask, my voice smaller than I’d like.
Leo’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes lingering on me for just a moment longer than necessary. “Because you shouldn’t be locked in a cage,” he says quietly. Then, more firmly, “The guards will show you around. Don’t try anything stupid.”
He turns to leave and I realize I need to say something and acknowledge this even though I don’t fully understand why he’s doing it.
“Thank you.” I truly mean it in a way that surprises me. “Really. Thank you.”
Leo stops in the doorway, his shoulders tensing slightly.
He doesn’t turn around or look at me.
He nods once and then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.