Chapter 7: Rule One

I opened the guest house door a hand's width.

Anders stood in the dim path outside with a pad of sticky notes in one hand and his tie loose.

"Rule one says no touching under the family's roof," he said.

"It's a very flexible roof," I said.

"Bree is in the garden. She has a ring light and a view of your window."

"So we're being watched."

"We are being supervised." He held out his hand. "Come with me."

I took it. That was a breach of rule one, and I knew it.

He led me through the kitchen door, up the back stairs and into the linen closet on the second floor.

It was narrow and dark and smelled of lavender and starch.

He pulled the door shut behind us, and there was nowhere to stand except against him.

"This is the safest room in the house," he said quietly.

"It's a closet."

"Nobody comes in here without a reason."

"Do we have a reason?"

"We're hiding."

"From who?"

"Everyone."

I started to laugh, and he put his thumb against my mouth, and the laugh went warm.

In the dark I could hear his breathing, and it was not calm.

"Leonie," he said. "I have a confession."

"I'll grade it."

"I used to hide in this closet when I was nine. From Tobin. I would sit on the floor with a book."

"And?"

"I never imagined this."

"This" was my hand. It had gone flat against his stomach under his shirt, and I felt the muscle jump.

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