on his own property. She stroked the door’s oak trim. This was his property.
She couldn’t stay here. There was no way.
But where would she go?
Another shiver went through her, significantly cooler than the one she’d felt outside under his watchful gaze. There was nowhere else she could find the peace to do her work. It had become impossible back in the city. Once her classmates at NYU had figured out who her father was, the attacks had been relentless. The harsh accusations, the scathing stares, the stalking by the press …
She moved to the living room, wrapped herself in the afghan on the sofa and huddled into its cushions. The leather was Wolfe property; the afghan was hers.
She never would have come here if she’d thought she’d cross paths with the man. He was supposed to be behind bars for another six months, and she’d thought that sentence was too lenient. Most people had agreed with her.
‘Damn overcrowding,’ she hissed. How could the prisons be overcrowded when people who should be locked up were still roaming around free? People like his grandfather Bartholomew.
Angry with herself for going down that path, Elena tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair and ran her hands through the long strands. She was scared, she had to admit it. What was she going to do? She wasn’t ready to go back outside that wrought-iron gate, back into the real world. It had chewed her up and spit her out. She’d come here looking for answers.
But she didn’t have them yet.
She glanced around the cottage. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet little place in the month she’d been here. The house was nicer than the one she’d grown up in, but that’s how the Wolfe family thought of it … as a bungalow. Yet it fit her needs. It had given her the seclusion she’d needed to lick her wounds and concentrate on her studies. Leonard had even given her free access to the library in the main house. She’d only ventured out to Bedford a few times for groceries or to the post office. She’d grown comfortable here.
She didn’t feel so comfortable any more.
She pulled the afghan higher around her shoulders. God, the man was something. Enigmatic and provocative. She hated to think what he’d be like up close. All that danger and power and mercilessness rolled into one.
She shifted on the sofa, rubbing her thighs together unconsciously. She knew she should run, but the way he’d looked at her …
What was she going to do?
This changed everything.
Elena slid another box into the trunk of her old-model Malibu and wondered for the hundredth time if everything would fit. She’d been up most of the night worrying and packing. It was amazing how deeply she’d settled into the lake house in such a short time. She hadn’t collected much stuff, but it had expanded somehow. It was certainly strewn about. She was still finding NYU mugs in the kitchen and peppermint lipgloss in the bathroom.
She wedged the box tighter against one that was already stowed. The space was going to be needed. She hadn’t packed up the second bedroom yet, the one she’d used as her office.
Her heart dipped.
She hated the thought of leaving before she was done. She’d made so much progress here. Things were organised the way she wanted, and the solitude allowed her to concentrate. That might not sound like much, but putting together a dissertation was a major undertaking. Getting rid of distractions had helped, especially the kind she’d been facing.
She hoped another move wouldn’t set her back.
She rubbed her hand over the ache in her chest. She might be leaving, but she didn’t know yet where she was going. She couldn’t return to her apartment in the city. She’d broken the lease there when she’d left to escape the paparazzi. It was going to take time to find another place she could afford where she could have some semblance of privacy. If she didn’t finish her work on time, her PhD would be in jeopardy. That would affect her job offers and her ability to pay off her student loans.
She blew out a long breath. It was circular thoughts like this that had kept her up all night. She scowled towards the main house. And that was his fault. Her life was in turmoil again, all because an over-indulged rich man had charmed the legal system into going easy on him.
She found nothing charming about the situation whatsoever.
Wiping her hands, she turned back towards the lake house. She flinched when she heard someone coming down the hard-packed dirt drive. The footsteps were clipped and precise and heading straight for her. With the lid of the trunk lifted, she couldn’t see who was approaching but she had a good guess.
She braced herself.
‘Ms Elena?’
Her spine relaxed. ‘Leonard.’
The butler came to an abrupt stop near the taillights of the car. A frown settled on his face when he saw her half-filled trunk, and the expression deepened the age lines around his mouth. ‘You’re leaving?’
She gave him a sad look. ‘It’s time. I appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown me these past few weeks, but I can’t be a burden any longer.’
‘You aren’t a burden.’ He folded his hands together primly, but she could see how tightly he held them. ‘There’s no need for you to go.’
‘We both know there is.’ She nodded towards the second-floor balcony of the manor. It was empty now. It had been empty every time she’d checked it since she’d caught his intimidating boss watching her from that perch.
He followed her wary look. ‘Yes, Master Wolfe is home, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave. He gave his permission yesterday eve for you to be on the property.’
Elena regarded her old friend. She was sure that permission had come at a cost, but had it been for him? Or would she be paying? ‘That’s a kind gesture, but I can’t accept.’
She wouldn’t take charity from a Wolfe. She couldn’t stomach it, and she couldn’t trust it.
‘At least stay until your studies are complete. It would be a shame to throw everything into a tizzy when you’re so close to getting your degree.’
A tizzy.
Elena nearly laughed. Wasn’t everything in a tizzy already? Alex Wolfe had shown up on his doorstep when she’d expected him to be in a prison cell for another six months. She’d never dreamed he’d be walking around a free man. Or that he’d be watching her … ‘I’m not comfortable here any more, Leonard. You’ve got to understand.’
‘I do understand, dear, but I think it would be more uncomfortable for you outside the manor’s gates.’ Those hands that he kept so tightly clenched together finally separated, and one waved up the road. ‘They’re already here, Elena.’
They. She didn’t need more description than that.
The media.
