the kind a person got from standing out in the cold. It was so
much worse than that, because it was mixed with a sick sort of
thrill that made her limbs warm and her face hot. She ducked
down, angling her face away, aware that her pale complexion
was probably scarlet.
“Do you understand?” Claire asked, like Haley was a child.
Haley wanted to fight her, but she realized Claire would
only find that amusing, and she was tired of being this
woman’s sick project. She was here because she’d agreed.
Because she needed to do this to save her dad and herself from
financial ruin. She could get through this. She would learn to
survive. Claire had said that she wasn’t a prisoner, and she
planned on holding her to that.
“Yes,” Haley whispered, and she hated that her voice
wavered. It wasn’t weakness, she told herself. It was the stress
of everything. The shock of how unorthodox the whole
situation was. The terror of having her life uprooted like this.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good.” Claire turned her head, her hair flying like a
gossamer curtain around her shoulders. She had hair like an
angel, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how beautiful this
woman was. Looking at her was like looking at the sun, and
Haley didn’t dare. “Please go with Jenny now.”
No one could accuse Claire of having poor manners. She
dismissed Haley and bent back over the work spread across
her desk. There was a closed laptop and endless piles of
papers. Did some of that belong to her father? Was Claire
working on her dad’s restaurants?
Haley’s heart thundered wildly. Her palms were soaking,
and she realized she’d had her hands balled into fists. She