His brows lifted. He shrugged, but I wasn’t sure if that was a response or if he didn’t speak English. He gave me a moment to take in the magnificent view of the ocean. Jagged rocks lined the shore between the base of the tower and the water, making escape that way impossible. Besides, even if I could sneak out, where would I go? The water had to be frigid, and I had no idea where the mainland was.
As I perused shelves filled with books, baubles, and trinkets, he pushed open a pocket door I’d assumed was a painting to reveal a large, full bathroom with windows that looked out over the roof far, far below and forest beyond. I doubted the bathroom had been updated since the 1970s, but Ilya twisted the taps to show me everything was in working order, despite the impressive layer of dust.
Not the Hilton, but at least everything was functional.
The suspense of what might happen next was too much for me. Just like on the Island, I wanted to do a preemptive strike and get ahead of the situation.
I took a step toward him as soon as we left the bathroom, and he looked at me curiously. As far as I knew, only Bron had used me on the trip over. Although I was exhausted from traveling and from the aftereffects of the drugs Bron had kept feeding me, trying to seduce Ilya was probably the smartest next move.
Standing toe to toe, I needed to look pretty far up at him, despite how tall I was. It was an interesting height difference. Most men were similar in height to me or a bit shorter, but Ilya and Bron both made me feel the way Lanie probably felt most of the time.
He raised his brows at me as though surprised to find me in his personal space, but he didn’t move away. His jaw tightened, as though he was gritting his teeth. I pulled him down and pressed my lips against his and he inhaled, freezing in place like a startled deer. He didn’t move other than a slight flare to his nostrils. I tried to lure him into participating in the kiss, but he pulled away, not looking upset so much as uneasy.
Did he not like women?
Confused, I stepped back. Maybe he was used to being the aggressor? Not sure what to do, I watched him edge away. He gave me a shy smile. I swallowed, feeling guilty.
Was I only here for Bron?
He retreated to the door but turned before leaving.
“The closet is full of my sister’s things. Use whatever you like.”
I watched him in bemusement.
He could speak English?
Such a strange man. Such a strange place.
“This used to be the lighthouse. They built the main house onto it later.”
Now that made a lot more sense than this place having a random turret for no reason.
I went to the closet and found it filled with every type of clothing I could imagine. It was all out of date by at least ten to fifteen years, but it looked serviceable and warm, even though there were far too many dresses. Hopefully, there were leggings to go with them, or at least some long socks.
I shook out a dress that might fit. Dust coated most of the room, but at least the closet doors had cut down on how many cobwebs clung to the clothing.
Back in the bathroom, I ran myself a bath with water that steamed in the cold air. I stripped off Bron’s borrowed button-up shirt and the bikini I would gladly burn at the first opportunity, gratefully used the toilet, and stepped into the bath with more relief than I normally had after any orgasm.
The water scalded my skin although I doubted it was really that hot, and my limbs prickled like I was being swarmed by ants. The tub was big enough that the water covered me to my chin and didn’t leave any part of me poking above the surface. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done for this luxury.
I nodded off. By the time I woke, my bath was cooling. I pulled the plug and showered, grateful for the thick towel I found within arm’s reach, since I hadn’t thought to check for one earlier.
This entire suite was a time capsule, as though the woman who belonged here had walked out over a decade ago and never returned.
I contemplated the dress I’d chosen, then slipped into a fluffy robe instead. There were relatively clean linens on the shelf in the closet, so I changed the bed, hoping the folded set of sheets would have less dust than the set already making up the bed.
As I settled in, I noticed a romance novel set on the bedside table, the bookmark a little past the halfway point. Was it a book she had read multiple times, or had she never reached the end?
Where had she gone? Was she dead?
It would be awful to die in the middle of a good book and never have the chance to see how it ended.
I thought about reading the first chapter, but to my chagrin, it wasn’t English.
Suddenly worried about my supply of reading material over the next few months, I checked the rest of the bookshelves, relieved to find an entire section of English titles. Too bad I couldn’t go through them with Lane, but sharing books with her would have to wait until I got home. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too angry at me for agreeing to take this contract. Knowing my friend, she’d understand.
Bron had said Clover had been taken off the Island, too, but that she wasn’t getting paid for whatever was happening to her. Anxiety for her tightened my stomach. She was such a sweet kid—brave and smart and determined. She was also gorgeous, vivacious, and a flirt. Would whoever had her eventually let her go, or would they keep her forever?
God, I hoped they wouldn’t kill her.
Despite my morbid musings, my stomach reminded me I was hungry. I dressed, discovering Ilya’s sister’s shoes fit relatively well, too. They were a bit too big, but that was better than too small.
I made my way downstairs, still wondering about Clover, but also wondering about Ilya’s sister. It was like she’d abandoned her entire life and run off.