My gaze met his. “I’m still in a box, Rett. This doesn’t take that away.” I looked up at the blue sky and back to him. “I’m also not ungrateful.”
His large finger traced over my cheek. “Once you’re safe and the city is secure, you’ll have all the sunshine and freedom you deserve. I promised you your heart’s desire.” He tilted his head. “Tell me what that is?”
“My heart’s desire?” I searched my heart and came up empty. “I don’t know, Rett. I suppose I should have a long list of things such as wealth and possessions. I don’t. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and yet it’s not the fame that I want as much as the opportunity to create something, anything, that can bring others peace and an escape.” I shrugged. “I love to read, to get lost in words while those words paint pictures in my head. My mom...” I didn’t correct myself as I took a staggered breath. “She used to tell me that there was no excuse for wallowing in self-pity. If I wasn’t happy with my situation, I could transport myself to another place, another time. Whether that was as Elizabeth Bennet, Meg March, or anyone else, the choice was mine. I suppose in some way my heart’s desire is to create a memorable world with a character who possesses qualities and lives a life that others would also enjoy inhabiting, if only for a while.” I feigned a grin. “I know it’s stupid.”
“Desiring to create a world such asPride and PrejudiceorLittle Womenisn’t stupid, Emma.”
I was a bit shocked that Rett knew the characters I’d mentioned and the books they inhabited.
“It demonstrates your desire for greatness,” he went on, “not for yourself but greatness in a way that helps others. I’ll have a laptop brought to you. For now, it won’t be connected to the internet, but you can write to your heart’s content.”
It was something.
“Thank you, Rett.”
“Until that computer arrives, rest. A lot has happened. Besides the laptop, I’ll have more clothes brought up. Spend the rest of the day relaxing and pamper yourself. Everything you need should be here. If it’s not, there are papers and pens in the desk. Make a list of anything you need and give it to Ian.”
Saying his name reminded me of earlier and my question of whether he was present when...
Before I could mention it, Rett went on. “Tonight when I come for you, I’ll escort you to the courtyard and we’ll dine under the stars.” His thumb and finger lightly held my chin. “You’re not my prisoner, Emma. You’re now my fiancée, and my goal is to keep you safe until we can announce our intent to wed, to the city, the world, and your brother. With you at my side, no one will come against us. Together as a Ramses and a Boudreau, we will reunite the families and be unstoppable.”
“I have...” I thought for a moment. “Ihada life, Rett. I may not be in contact with those people from my childhood, but in Pittsburgh I have friends, people who will wonder where I’ve gone. And there’s Ross. I know you made some kind of deal with him, but I should tell him I’m safe.”
The ends of Rett’s lips curled. “You are safe, Emma. I’m pleased to hear you say that.”
“My things? My phone?”
“Patience. It’s a quality we both must possess.”
It seemed that in the search for patience, Rett held most of the cards.
With his last statement, he turned and walked away. I stood in the doorway between the sitting room and bedroom, leaning as he had earlier, and watched as he disappeared behind the main door. For nearly a minute, I waited.
The locks didn’t engage.
That didn’t mean I was less captive, but combined with the open skylight, it did make me smile.
Rett
“Richard Michelson is waiting for you downstairs,” Ian said as I closed the door to Emma’s suite behind me.
My eyebrows came together in confusion as I reached for my phone. There wasn’t a message. “Why wasn’t I informed? How long has he been here?”
“You said not to disturb you.”
I shook my head. I had said that; however, there were certain exceptions. One of those would include a visit from one of the top prosecutors in Louisiana. “How long has he been here?”
“An hour. He’s in your front office.”
Fuck.
An hour.
I wouldn’t wait an hour for anyone. The fact that Michelson had waited for me spoke to a few things: he was determined to see me and there must be a good reason. As a prosecutor, he could be a thorn in my side, but we had history that kept us allies. Nevertheless, finding a prosecutor in your home doesn’t fill one with warm feelings.
Had someone tipped him off about Ingalls?
Had one of my men been spotted before the scene could be cleaned?