His eyes burn as he steps forward. "Oh yes I do. I didn't write that contract to buy a cleaning lady. I did it to buy you. For the next six months between the hours of eight and twelve, you are mine."

I'm so frustrated that his harsh words bring tears to my eyes. I hate that I cry when I'm angry. I want to be strong and yell back at him but this kind of fury makes me feel very small. "I am not yours. I'm not anybody’s."

He stalks forward again and I instinctively shrink away. He doesn't seem to notice. He rests his forehead against mine, the harsh rasp of his breath hitting my cheek. When he pulls me closer, I am too stunned to protest.

"You are mine just as much as I am yours. This hold you've had on me has gone on too long. You walked away from me but when you left you took a part of me with you. I haven't been able to sleep without you walking in and out of my dreams. I can't close my eyes without feeling your presence. You're always with me. I can't live like this anymore."

His lips feather over my forehead and the frustration I feel morphs into a different kind of ache altogether. Maybe this is part of his plan, to hold me the way he used to and make me feel all the things that no other man has ever made me feel.

"You want revenge for the way I treated you. I know that. And you won't believe me but I am truly sorry for the way I left things. You deserved so much more than that. So much better than me. It's better if I assign someone else to come here so we don't have to see each other. It's just hurting us both."

He looks down at me. "If you do that I will void the contract and tie you up in court so long you'll go bankrupt just from all the legal fees. Don't push me on this, Rissa. You have no idea how far I'm willing to go."

"Is this really what you want? It's not healthy for you to keep all this anger inside. You have to move on."

"That's just it angel, I can't move on until my heart accepts the true nature of who you are. A girl who could ditch me for a richer guy and not look back. But the only way that'll happen is if I spend time with you. So you are going to go where I need you to go. You are going to talk to me.  And I am going to purge you from my fucking system or I'll destroy us both trying."

*   *   *   *   *

I tuck my hands under my legs again as we ride along in silence. We’re being driven somewhere, Finn wouldn’t tell me where, in the back of the most gorgeous car I’ve ever seen. It takes all my will power not to reach out and touch all the shiny surfaces.  The things he said to me, no growled at me, are swimming around my head. I'm offended by the fact that he feels he has essentially bought me like a horse but even more, I'm entranced by his assertion that he needs to purge me. That he's obsessed with me after all this time.

I shouldn't have felt such a thrill of pleasure when he said that.

Finally I can’t take the silence anymore. “You have a Bentley?”

He chuckles. He’s sitting on the other side of the seat with his cane between us. The car is so spacious it almost feels like I should be yelling so he can hear me.

“I haven't had it long. I found that driving on this leg some days is painful." He looks at me speculatively. "I don’t remember you being into cars.”

“I wasn’t but you were. I paid attention some of the time.” Our eyes meet and there’s this strangely soft expression on his face, like he’s remembering.

“You always noticed everything. You always seemed to know when I was upset about something.” He looks away, out the window to the traffic rushing past.

Thinking about the past doesn’t help us, it only mires us in all the things we did wrong. I cough and bring us back to the reason why we’re here.

“Okay so you need stuff.”

“I do. House stuff.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything. What kind of stuff do you need? Couches, chairs, dining table. What?”

“Honestly I don’t know. The place came partially furnished and I haven’t cared to do much since then. I’ve been recuperating.”

His hand lands on top of the head of the cane. He toys with it absently as he talks. I’m struck again with the intense desire to know what happened to him. To hear him talk about his life after we parted, as if knowing can somehow erase all the time and distance between us.

“It looks great already just a little empty. There’s no artwork on the walls and the dining area is empty. It feels like a model home, not a place where someone actually lives.”

“That’s what we’re going to fix.”

The scenery outside has changed to a more rural landscape. We pass through an area with large, stately homes and well-manicured lawns. We’re not in Norfolk anymore or at least not any part that I’ve ever seen. The car finally slows and turns on a narrow lane. A large Victorian style home appears at the end of the drive. It looks like a dollhouse.

“Where are we?”

“In West Haven. There’s an artisan furniture store here that my lawyer recommended. One of the things I like to do is buy local. If at all possible, I use local craftsmen and workers for anything I do.”

The scary guy who has been driving us opens my door and I scramble out. There are large oak trees bordering the drive and the air is soft and cool as a kiss beneath their shade. I follow Finn up the drive. A soft bell tinkles overhead as we open the front door.

As soon as I step over the threshold, I feel like I've been transported back in time.