His voice was hushed. “I have, Emma. Maybe you should listen.”
Before I could respond, the SUV came to a stop. When I turned to look beyond the windows, a large gate was in the process of moving to the side, revealing a long cement staircase leading upward. “Where are we?”
“Your new home and you’re here safely.” As Rett spoke, a man appeared, descending the stairs. His black loafers and gray pants were the first to come into view. However, as he descended toward us, it wasn’t his attire that caught my attention. It was both his size and his sheer bulk. With a bald head and visible gun holster, this man was the quintessential bodyguard. If there was a visual requirement for bodyguards, this man was their poster boy.
The driver opened the door at Rett’s side.
Rett lifted his hand to me, palm up. “Come, Emma.”
Placing my palm in his, I scooted until I was standing beside him. A cool breeze blew my skirt though I couldn’t identify its origin. Sounds echoed throughout the parking garage, yet no matter what direction I turned, there wasn’t anyone else present. The four of us were alone in a vast cement cavern.
“This is New Orleans,” I said.
“It is.”
“Is it safe to be underground?”
“This tunnel and garage are reinforced. When I say you’re safe, I mean it.”
Standing taller and lifting my chin, I asked, “Where are my things?” I hadn’t seen my purse or phone since I’d left the table I was sharing with Ross. Back in my hotel room, I had a suitcase with a few items. There weren’t many. My visit to New Orleans had been planned as only a two-day stay. When I left Pittsburgh this morning, I fully intended on returning to my home.
“Mr. Ramses,” the large man in gray said.
“Ian.” Rett turned to me and pulled something from his pocket. “Emma, you will have your things eventually. Trust me. You’re safe.”
Whatever he was holding had my attention. “What is that?”
Rett brought it up and let the material unfurl from his fingertips. “For your well-being.”
I took a small step backward, my shoulders bumping against the car door. “What is that?” It was a rhetorical question. I recognized a blindfold.
Rett stepped closer, his voice a steady whisper. “There are things that you aren’t ready to learn.” His hands came to my shoulders, applying pressure and encouraging me to turn.
Instead, I remained steadfast as my head shook. “No, Rett. I don’t want to be blindfolded.”
With an exhale, he tipped my head forward and left a lingering kiss on my hair. “Humor me.”
Why?
Why should I humor this man I didn’t know?
“Because,” he responded, answering my unspoken question, “this is the last thing I’ll ask of you tonight.” He lifted my chin until our gazes met. “Not because of my rule, Emma, but because you have entrusted me with your life.”
“But why a blindfold? This is your house, right?”
“Sir, we...”
Rett raised his hand toward the driver, silencing the rest of the driver’s sentence. “Emma.”
Closing my eyes, I exhaled and turned, silently giving Rett access to place the blindfold over my eyes and secure it behind my head. Once he was done, he lifted my hand. “Go with Ian. He’ll take you to your suite.”
With my head held high, I nodded. Rett placed my hand on a sleeve.
“Miss North, watch your step.”
Ian meant that figuratively since with the blindfold, I wasn’t watching anything.
As we began to step up, I heard the closing of car doors before the SUV departed. While I couldn’t see Rett leave, I felt it. A strange connection between us had formed in a short period of time and with his departure, I felt as though there was a part of me missing.