It was exquisite, surreal, unbelievable.
“What is this place?” she whispered in awe, unable to believe her own eyes.
“It’s called Bayfjord,” he informed her from her back. “That’s the Iron Mountains, and that’s the Black Bay.”
She took in the sight for a long time, standing in the cage of his arms, unable to register it all, register that not only was she alive, she was in heaven and she was with him.
Reluctantly, she turned around so she could see the house they were in. A gasp left her as she stared up at the rough gray rocks.
They were on some kind of deck made in a slit of the space within the mountain. Within the mountain.
“Are we…how… in the mountain?”
Her broken words made him take a step back, leaving her alone on the edge, and she clung to his hand, terrified of the steep fall off the cliff. And that was so contrary to the woman who had decided to end herself.
She saw him look down at their hands together, his large, dark, burned hands encompassing her small, soft, pale ones.
“Come with me.” He tugged her forward, and she half-heartedly followed, not ready to go back into her own mind or how she felt about him right that second. There was something new to experience, something good, and she grabbed it with both hands.
He took her back to the warm bedroom inside, closing the glass doors. She took the time to look around and take in everything. It was the largest bedroom she had ever seen—everything within it big and classy. From where she stood near the deck doors, the biggest bed, made of black wood with the same colored headboard and side tables was on the right.
Leading the way, he pointed to the wide dark doors opposite the deck doors. “This is a walk-in closet.”
He slid the door open, and Lyla stared in awe at the spacious room, lined on both sides with clothes. The right side had all masculine attire, rows of shirts and suits and jackets, all in blacks and grays and whites. The left was feminine, rows of dresses, tops, tees, in mostly whites and blacks, with an occasional color thrown in.
A sharp stab of something pierced through her chest at the sight.
Someone lived with him, shared a closet with him, and yet he stood there holding her hand. She scrunched her eyes close. She had no right to feel anything. That was how things worked in their world. He could have a gazillion women on call and still take her, and she couldn’t deny him.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling—
“We can add more color to your side if you like.”
—wait what?
She pressed brakes on her rampant thoughts and took in the wardrobe again. That was for her? What the hell?
Oblivious to her thoughts, or maybe not, he let go of her hand and walked to the large mirror opposite the entrance.
“Come.”
Curious, she walked to him, realizing her feet were bare and the carpet under her toes was soft. Coming to a stop at his side, she was startled when he pulled her into his back by her hips, looking at their reflections. She looked so much smaller compared to him, the top of her head coming barely to his chin, her frame slender where his was wide. He wasn’t overly muscled but muscled enough to be both strong and sleek.
“Tell me what you see.”
Frowning at the odd request, because she could clearly see their reflections, she shook her head. Her hair, almost shoulder length now, was sticking out around her face. Her eyes were exhausted and her shoulders drooped. He, on the other hand, looked sharp, dangerous, lethal, the shirtless torso and black sweatpants not taking away from his aura, exactly as he had always looked.
“What do you see?” he prodded again.
Lyla saw herself blink in the reflection. “You behind me.”
She startled as he leaned in, his reflection joining hers closer, his face beside hers. “Exactly. I’m always behind you, even when you cannot see.”
Her throat closed up, the black hole she had escaped into ever-present inside her, reminding her of the months leading up to the moment she had decided to give up. Just because he had somehow decided to come back and found her didn’t absolve him of anything. He had betrayed her, and that wasn’t something she could let go of.
Gritting her teeth, seeing her bright green eyes flashing in the reflection, she addressed him. “Were you behind me when they were raping my body?”
His grip on her hips tightened. His face remained neutral. “Yes.”
A bitter laugh burst out of her. “That’s even worse. Because that means you did nothing to stop it. And that means you don’t care.” Her eyes locked with his. “So you can take your fancy house and fancy clothes and fancy views, and get the fuck away from me. I don’t need anything from you, not anymore.”