The rain came down in sheets, turning the estate gardens into a grey blur. On the drive back from the memorial, Hunter had made a single, brief phone call, his voice low and clipped. The result was waiting for them when they arrived.
Herminia stood under the portico of the main house, gripping the doorframe. By afternoon, two movers were carting her boxes across the courtyard toward the East Wing.
"I'm not going," she said to the wet air.
Hunter appeared from the mist, holding a massive black umbrella. He walked up the steps, his shoes crunching on the wet stone.
"Don't make a scene," he said. "The movers are paid by the hour."
"You tricked Barbara," Herminia accused. "You manipulated her into sending me to your rooms."
"I protected you," Hunter corrected. "Or would you prefer Barbara inspecting your neck every morning?"
He stepped close to her and opened the umbrella, holding it over both of them. He created a small, dry world that only they existed in.
"Come on." He put a hand on the small of her back.
Herminia tried to step away, but the rain was a wall of water. She was forced to step into his space. He pulled her against his side, his arm clamping around her shoulders.
They walked into the rain. The sound of the water hitting the umbrella was deafening. Herminia could feel the heat radiating from his suit. His hip bumped against hers with every step. It was an intimacy she couldn't escape.
"Why the East Wing?" she asked, her voice tight.
"Better security," Hunter said. "Fewer eyes. No Barbara."
"It's a prison," she whispered.
"It's a sanctuary."
They reached the heavy double doors of the East Wing. Hunter collapsed the umbrella and handed it to a waiting staff member. The silence inside was instant and heavy. The air here was cooler, smelling of cedar and Hunter's cologne.
He led her up the grand staircase to the second floor. He pointed to a door.
"That's your room."
Then he pointed to the door directly next to it. "And that's mine."
Herminia looked at the proximity. Ten feet. That was all that separated them.
"Who cleans here?" she asked, looking around the empty hallway. "Where are the maids?"
"No staff allowed on this floor without my clearance," Hunter said. "Enola will handle your needs."
"Enola?" Herminia frowned. "My assistant?"
"She's capable," Hunter said with a strange smile. "Settle in. I'll see you at dinner."
He walked into his room and closed the door. Herminia stood alone in the hallway, listening to the rain hammer against the roof. She realized with a sinking feeling that she had just walked into the lion's den, and the lion had the only key.
