“I’ll arrange to collect your things at the cottage too.”
My brows knit together. “Can’t I go?”
“No.”
“Why the hell not? Surely it’ll be quicker if I can grab the things I need.”
“The answer is no.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
God, what a prick. “That’s sounding like I’m not going to be allowed to do anything. What about things to do with my sister? Now that I’m here, I was hoping to help sort out her belongings.”
“That’s being taken care of.”
“By whom?”
“I’ll be working with your father to sort out her things and arrange the funeral so everything will be as discreet and private as possible. There is no need for you to get involved. According to your original plan, I’m sure you didn’t plan to be sorting your sister’s things out.”
My shoulders sag. “No, I didn’t. I just thought that I could do it now.”
I know what Dad is like. I didn’t stick around after Mom died, but Scarlett told me he threw all her things away. I don’t want that happening to Scarlett’s stuff.
“I’m not asking for much,” I add. “She was my sister. I don’t want her things thrown away. That’s what my dad will do. Her things were special to the two of us.”
When he looks like he’s at least considering it, I feel hopeful.
“I’ll think about it.”
Before I can protest, he dismisses me by walking away, ending our conversation with an abrupt halt.
I stare after him as he heads into the open kitchen and I surprise myself when I decide to follow.
I know I might be overstepping the boundaries, but I need to know how long it will take for him to think. He’s said no to me watching the video and not going to the cottage and the store. Now it’s a no to going to sort out Scarlett’s things. The only thing he’s agreed to is allowing me to see Dad, and I never specifically asked for that.
I loathe feeling trapped and I don’t want to feel like a prisoner here—although I am.
He glares at me when I approach.
“What are you doing?”
“How long is it going to take for you to think?” I ask, ignoring his question.
He simply stares back at me. The silent moments which pass feel like eons to me.
“I want a specific answer,” I add when he continues the silent stare fest.
The smirk comes back to his face, and I’m not sure which I prefer. The serious version of him or this one.
“Woman, you have some fucking balls making demands of a man like me,” he states, and that shiver I felt before comes back.
“Am I supposed to just stay here cooped up doing as I’m told?”
He leans in close like last night, but this time I step back. He takes one more step forward, and I take another step back. We repeat like we’re dancing, and I feel like he’s the predator and I’m the prey. When my back hits the wall, he sets one arm above my head and the other next to my arms to block my escape. That’s when a lump the size of Texas forms in my throat.
“Summer Reeves, you already have two strikes against you, baby, and now I’m thinking that threat to claw my eyes out should be a third.” He speaks in a low even tone and moves closer, complimenting the predatory vibe I felt moments ago.