When I reopened my eyes, it was dark outside. How long had I slept?
I quickly surveyed the room, hoping my jailer might be gone, but no such luck. He sat in a chair next to the door, eyes closed, arms crossed, head resting back against the peach-colored wall.
I studied him carefully, looking for any signs of what or who he truly was.
A ghost?
But he was a solid mass.
A dream?
Nothing indicated I was still asleep. I saw only a man. Real, breathing, beautiful to a fault—thick lashes fanning out from his eyes, dark straight brows, a masculine jaw, and a chin with a tiny dimple. And his size, well, he certainly was no teenager. He looked to be about twenty. Perhaps as old as twenty-two. And with his lean muscular frame, he looked like he worked out. A lot.
Ghosts don’t need to work out.
See. That was the part that didn’t make sense. I’d made him up. I mean, yes, the photo had to come from somewhere, so the man physically existed in the world. But he was a random stranger I’d never met. So why was he sitting in my room, guarding me, and acting like he just might rip off my head if I so much as breathed the wrong way?
Lord, the more I thought about it, the weirder and scarier the situation felt.
“Good, you’re awake.”
I jumped and held my hand over my heart.
“Your mother came by earlier. She said you’ve been released.” He rose from the chair and walked over to the hook on the wall that held my purse and the clear bag that contained only my panties and bra. I hoped he didn’t notice or look at them.
“She did? Why didn’t she wake me up?” I needed to talk to her. I needed to hear that this was all just some horrible joke.
“She wanted you to rest. She asked me to take you home when you woke up.”
Home. He was coming home with me? “I want to see her,” I stated quietly, trying not to provoke him.
“She’s finishing her shift. You’ll see her later tonight.”
To heck with provoking...Survive. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He handed me my purse and flashed a wicked little smile. “Why not?”
Why not? Why not? Oh my. Let’s make a list. Shall we? You’re scary. And imaginary. And you’re scary. I said that already. “Because I have no idea who you are.”
He leaned over me, placing his cheek next to mine. “Then let me fill you in,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m your boyfriend, and you love me. So don’t cause any problems, Dakota.”
Adrenaline pumped through my muscles, urging me to run. “And if I do?”
He ran his finger along my jaw, his rough stubble scraping against my cheek. “Do you really want to find out?”
My stomach churned and cramped. I’d never been more frightened of anyone or anything in my entire life. “N…n…no.”
He released a heavy breath into my ear. “Because if you challenge me, if you keep asking questions, it won’t be pretty. I know all your secrets, Dakota,” he whispered. “Every one of them. So think hard about which ones you want to get out.”
I felt beads of sweat erupt on my forehead. “Wha…what do y…you mean?”
He pulled back a bit, and annoyance flickered in his eyes. “You were sixteen. You took the BART train into San Francisco with Mandy. Do you want me to go on?”
My jaw dropped. No. I didn’t. What I saw that day was horrible. We’d ditched class and snuck off to Saks in the city. As Mandy and I came around the corner, I saw my dad leaving a hotel right there in Union Square with a blond. Not my mother. He kissed her passionately, and then they went in separate directions. Mandy had been too busy staring at a passing cable car to notice, thank goodness. At first, I tried telling myself that whatever happened in my parent’s personal life didn’t affect me, but that was silly. How could I ever trust him again? My mother worshipped him—waited for months to see him while he galloped the globe on photo shoots. All the while, he cheated on her.
Not only wouldn’t I trust him, I wouldn’t trust any man. After all, if you couldn’t trust your own father, then who? Things were never the same again between us. It was almost like he sensed that I’d discovered his secret.
“But how do you know?” I asked Santiago. My father hadn’t seen me. I never told anyone. Ever.
“I know everything, Dakota. The question is, do you want your mother to know everything, too?”
Bastard. If my mother found out my dad had cheated on her, it would break her heart.
“No,” I replied, gritting my teeth.
“Then who am I?”
I stared into his eyes. I had to find a way out of this. “My boyfriend.”