Page 143 of Override

"Come."

He leads me toward the garage instead of the front entrance. The heavy door closes behind us with a metallic thud. The sound echoes.

The SUV waits in the center of the garage, polished until I can see distorted reflections in the paint.

The follow vehicle is already gone. Probably waiting outside the gate. Ronan stops beside the driver's door. He doesn't unlock it.

Instead, he turns to face me. "There are new expectations."

I fold my hands together. "I'm listening."

"You'll remain beside me tonight."

"I always do."

"You'll speak when spoken to."

Something inside me stirs. "I already—"

"You'll answer only the person addressing you." I swallow. "If anyone asks questions about the estate..." His eyes settle on mine. "...you'll tell them you're adjusting well." The words land strangely.

"I'm not."

His expression doesn't change. "You will."

Silence. He continues. "You won't mention the changes inside the house."

"I haven't seen anyone to mention them to."

"No." He nods once. "You haven't."

Something about the answer...The certainty of it...Finally cracks something I'd spent three days trying to hold together.

"I'm tired."

His brow furrows almost imperceptibly. "What?"

"I'm tired." The words surprise even me. "I'm tired of apologizing." The garage feels impossibly quiet. "I'm tired of wondering which version of you is coming home every night." His face still doesn't change. "I've spent three days trying to convince myself this is normal."

I laugh once. It sounds broken. "It isn't."

"Maeve."

"No." I shake my head. "My father has never spoken to my mother the way you speak to me." His jaw tightens. "My mother laughs." I feel tears burning behind my eyes. "My mother leaves the house. My mother has friends. My mother..." My voice catches. "...isn't afraid of disappointing her husband."

Something flickers behind Ronan's eyes. Not anger. Fear. "That's enough."

"No." The word comes out stronger than I expect. "If my father knew—"

"He doesn't."

"He would take me home."

Silence. Absolute silence. For one impossible second I think maybe I've gotten through to him.

Then he steps forward. Fast. His hand closes around my upper arm.

Pain shoots through the muscle. "Ronan."