For the worst.
ALICE swallowed, attempting desperately to slow her choppy breathing. “I don’t want to go meet with some stranger. I want the truth!” she told Dylan.
“That’s what I’m planning to give you. Sidney can help. He knew Alan Durand.”
“Why should I care about that?” she asked, her amazed disbelief amplifying. “Stop bullshitting me and—”
“Alice,” Dylan said sharply, interrupting her hissing demand. She blinked, her words freezing on her tongue. “Sidney knew your father.”
Her mouth fell open.
“He knew my father?” she asked incredulously. This couldn’t be happening. Why was this happening? Shivers of dread crawled beneath her skin. Dylan put out his hand, as if to escort her out of the room, but she stepped back, avoiding his touch.
“Just lead the way,” she managed coldly.
It felt like a pair of hands clutched her throat, squeezing until only the tiniest air hole remained.
SHE sensed Dylan’s stare on her as he held the door open for her once they were downstairs. Alice marched into the masculine, handsome den, chin up, defiant.
Numb.
It hadn’t changed much. Book-filled shelves lined three walls, and the fourth had a row of windows that looked out on the gardens and lake. The enormous carved desk—a good hiding spot—had been moved to a new position to the right of the room.
You’ve never been in here before!
Dizziness assailed her at the thought. Her legs forgot their purpose. She plopped down on a deep blue velvet couch before they could give out beneath her.
“Alice?”
It took a moment for her vision to resolve. There was a tall distinguished-looking man with silver hair looking down at her with concerned gray eyes. She stared up at him dazedly. Dylan entered her narrowing field of vision.
“Things have changed,” she heard him say quietly to the other man. “She’s realized some of the things I’ve told her about the house don’t make sense, and it’s … upset her,” Dylan finished tensely.
For a few seconds, she was looking into Dylan’s lustrous dark eyes and she was falling …
Falling.
What is wrong with me? I’m strong. I need to get out of here. This place is making me so weak. This house—this whole damn estate—is like my personal Kryptonite …
Panic sent fingers tighter around her throat. “Dylan,” she managed.
“It’s okay, Alice,” he said, and he grasped her hands. Had she stretched her arms out toward him, reaching like a little child? God, what was wrong? There was a strange ringing in her ears. “Everything’s going to be okay, baby.” He came down on the couch next to her and put his arm around her. Alice clutched at his free hand like a lifesaver.
“Something’s wrong,” she whispered. Something is horribly wrong.
“Sidney, do something,” Dylan rasped.
The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to be blinding her. All she could do was hold on to Dylan, her safety. Her anchor. Her …
“Knight in shining armor,” she whispered through numb lips.
“What’s that, Alice?” Someone was blocking the sunlight. “Here. Drink this.” The man with the gray eyes said. He was kneeling in front of her and handing her a glass. The man smiled kindly. “It’s all right. It’s just water,” he assured. “You’ve had a dizzy spell. Take a sip, and then take a few deep breaths.”
She nodded. She wanted to take the water, but she was afraid to let go of Dylan for some reason. Then the edge of the glass was pressing against her lower lip, and she drank thirstily. It helped, the familiar sensation of the cool liquid slipping down her throat clearing her fog a little. The glass moved away. Dylan handed it to the gray-haired man, who stood and set the glass on the desk. Then he pulled an armchair in front of her.
“Better?” he asked.
Alice nodded.