Page 113 of Manic

Whatever this was between us, all it did was confuse me.

He’d been watching me for five years—long before I was his captive—so how could I possibly believe I was nothing more than a passing fling? Knowing he was my admirer made me feel like I was more than a captive, and for the first time in my life, I wanted more. But that didn’t mean he did.

In fact, I had no idea what I was to him now.

The lines were blurred—so distorted I didn’t know where one began and the other ended. I wasn’t sure my heart could take the loss when it was time for me to leave. Time for him to leave.

Would we still see each other? If we were miles and miles apart, would he still watch me on the cameras? Maybe. But here I was trying to figure out what it would mean if he did.

“Do you have something to say?” he asked.

“Maybe I’m just not in the mood.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

I sipped my wine again, if only to give myself more time to think. Apparently, he didn’t like my drawn out silence because his mouth brushed against the shell of my ear as he leaned in.

“You starting to like me, Hale?”

I choked. Wine sputtered in my glass, and his laugh reverberated off the side of my head. A genuine laugh. One that reminded me of distant thunder rolling in from the ocean, and it made my toes curl. My entire body grew hot, and I shot him a glare.

“No,” I lied, and he smirked.

I wanted to kick myself, because even though I didn’t want to, I was catching feelings. I fucking liked him, and knowing that only pissed me off. Did it have anything to do with the knowledge of him being my admirer? Maybe. I couldn’t deny that it might have something to do with it, and so I pushed that thought into the recesses of my mind.

“If you say so,” he mused.

A throat cleared beside us, and our gazes turned to Ronan and Elowen. Manic stiffened, and his carefree expression slipped right off his face—replaced with a cool mask of indifference. His entire demeanor shifted.

“Manic,” Ronan said in greeting, his voice rough and low. “I see you brought Sutton.”

Manic gripped my elbow and tugged me to him. Yanking, really. My wine sloshed with enough force, I was surprised it didn’t spill. I held back a groan and glared up at his perfect jaw.

“You know I like to enjoy my captives before their release,” Manic said coolly. “I couldn’t leave her alone in the penthouse for too long, or she might go missing. I gave Axell the night off.”

Ronan smirked.

“Manic,” Elowen sputtered, glancing around the room. “Please, no business talk around family tonight. The last thing we need are a bunch of arguments about the Russians at Naomi’s party. You probably shouldn’t have brought her—they’ll ask questions.”

Ice skated across my skin, and I locked eyes with Elowen. I didn’t know her, but I knew enough from Naomi that she was tolerated by the other family members. Their dead mother couldn’t be replaced, and they made Elowen aware of that any chance they got.

“Hush, Elowen,” Ronan clipped. Her face warmed as he smiled at me, a cruel twist to his mouth. “Sutton is welcome. I’m sure you would like to enjoy yourself before going home in a couple of weeks.”

Manic tensed, and I caught the clenching of his fist out of the corner of my eye before he stuffed it into his pocket. Was that because of Ronan’s presence, or our current conversation?

“Yes,” I answered, biting back the nasty retort lodged in my throat. “Other than visiting the casinos, I haven’t left much, so this is a nice change.”

“Mm,” Ronan agreed, studying me. It made my skin crawl. “Well, I couldn’t deny you the enjoyment of a little freedom, considering all you’ve done to help us.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes, but they departed after a few minutes of innocuous small talk. Manic took a long drink from his glass before glancing around.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Why don’t we find a spot at the table,” Manic said tightly, ignoring my question. “Away from…”

Amelia and Ronan.

He didn’t need to say their names for me to understand what he was implying. He was saving us from having to sit beside them. Maybe he just didn’t want me to make a scene. Either way, the thought only made the warmth in my chest bubble, and my irritation with the feeling grow bigger.