Page 22 of Traces of Her

Fourteen

ROWENA

I LOSE TRACK OF TIME with my head resting against the window, watching the scenery go past. Griffin drives us out of the city and along the coast. I stare at the large boats we pass that are docked along the shore. We drive for a few more minutes before he turns onto a private road. At the end of the road, he pulls into a driveway leading to a stark white house with the back side facing the ocean. Griffin parks in front of the house and kills the engine. I turn my head to him, unsure of what happens next.

“Well,” he says, hesitantly. “Welcome home.” He gives me a small, pained smile, but it doesn’t reach his troubled eyes. I stare at him and watch the turmoil take over his beautiful face, wishing I knew what was going through his mind. He’s different than his brother; he’s softer and kind. There’s something about him that makes me feel safe and almost as if I could trust him. It’s like he’s my knight in shining dress shoes. But who am I to judge? I was just thrust into his life with no choice. For all I know he could be just like Jared, or even worse.

I glance at the house and then back at Griffin and find a look I’m all too familiar with. His face is void of any emotion, his dark eyes are blank and a charming grin forms on his lips. Most people wouldn’t notice how fake it truly is, but I see right through it. I’ve used the same look on my own face many times and looks can be deceiving.

“Shall we?” He gestures while showing his perfectly straight white teeth. I return his fake smile with one of my own. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

His smile falters for a second, but he quickly recovers and climbs out of the car. My door is pulled open and Griffin looks down at me, waiting.

“Are you coming?” he questions and holds his hand out to me. I glance down at his hand, not wanting to touch it but I can’t tear my eyes away. His fingers aren’t fat little sausages, they’re long and slender. They’re welcoming and I find myself slipping my hand into his before I can stop it. His touch is gentle as he helps me out of the car with his soft hands. My stomach flips as my heart picks up speed, but the feeling isn’t bad like before from someone else’s touch.

Not letting go of his hand, I quietly close the car door and turn toward him. His eyes linger on our hands before he directs his heated gaze back to me. He stares through me as my heart beats against my ribcage with a hunger I’d never seen before.

And then my hand is empty and cold, the absence of his hand leaving a void. As quickly as it happened, it ended. He dropped my hand like it was on fire, diverting his eyes to the ground, away from mine. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard and clears his throat before walking toward the house. “Come on,” he orders. “Let’s get inside and get you settled.”

He doesn’t wait for me and keeps walking farther away from me. I shrug to myself, seeing as he doesn’t care for a response from me. Reluctantly, I follow after him knowing I have no other option at this point. I need time to figure out a plan of how I’m getting out of here. Once that happens, I’ll be freed from these psychopaths.

The way his long stride tightens his pants around his muscular legs and ass catches my eye. I can only imagine how they’d look without them on. His white dress shirt clings to his torso in all of the right ways and as he moves, his muscles show through, showing off dark, almost black designs marking his skin.

Reality slaps me in the face and I quickly shake my head, reminding myself of what this really is. I pick up my pace and finally catch up to him, finding myself standing behind him as he unlocks the front door.

I can’t have these thoughts and these feelings.

I can’t admire him like I want to.

I can’t forget my end goal here.

Make a plan and get out.

Again.

Griffin gives me a tour of his house in the fastest way possible. We pass through each room, he says what it is and we continue on to the next one. His house is simple but tastefully decorated, no doubt by an interior designer. The tour ends in the guest bedroom next to his, that is now mine.

Hesitantly, I step into the room expecting it to be a trap, but it’s not. It’s an ordinary bedroom with a bed, a nightstand, and two dressers. I walk across the room to another door and slowly turn the handle, pulling it open.

“It’s a walk-in closet.” Griffin’s smooth voice startles me, pulling me out of my trance. I quickly spin around and find him watching me as he leans against the doorframe with his hands loosely tucked in his pockets. I thought he had already left the room, leaving me by myself. This isn’t something I’m used to. He isn’t something I’m used to.

“I don’t have anything to put in there,” I admit, tearing my gaze from his as I suddenly feel embarrassed. His presence is loud, it demands to be heard. Even only standing in the doorway, he fills the entire room. I can’t be a chameleon or a ghost when his eyes are on me.

His quiet footsteps grow closer until I see his feet stop directly in front of me. The softness of his fingertips grazes my jaw as he cups my chin and lifts my head up until my eyes meet his. With how close he’s standing, I can see lighter shades of brown dancing throughout his dark eyes. From afar they look dark, cold, black, but up close they’re warm, soft, inviting; everything I shouldn’t want.

“Hey,” he says softly as his eyes search mine. “Don’t worry about any of that, okay?”

I slowly nod in response, afraid that my voice might betray me. Griffin pulls his hand away from my chin and reaches up, brushing my hair from my eyes and tucks it behind my ears. His touch warms me instead of making me cringe. He runs his fingers back down my face and cups my cheek. His eyes never leave mine as he lightly rubs his thumb across my skin. My breath catches in my throat as feelings of want and need and happiness and sadness flood my body.

“Rowena,” he breathes my name. “You’re an enigma encompassed in beauty.” His hand travels down my neck, with his fingertips burning their mark into my skin. “A beauty so dangerously captivating.” The different shades of brown in his eyes swirl together and the fire within them grows with every word that falls from his lips. His hand rests at the base of my neck. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers in a hoarse voice.

His hand falls away from me and he takes a few steps back, jamming his hands in his pockets. He clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, he turns to the door and doesn’t look at me.

“I’m going to put some clothes in the bathroom so you can shower,” he says over his shoulder and swiftly walks out of the room, leaving me by myself. A rush of cold air fills the space he left behind, leaving me feeling out of place and confused as hell. He gave me a small taste of warmth and comfort, but as quickly as he gave it, he took it away.

He walked away from me.

For the first time, I don’t want to be alone.

He was wrong.

He’s going to be the death of me.