Would I ever get used to the torrential mood swings of Sawyer Gryffin? Hot as blazes one minute, then cold as ice the next. My ass still stung from the spanking he’d given me, and my panties dampened at the mere memory. He was a man to be obeyed, a man who would never take no for an answer.
And God, was he a man. Nothing like the boys of my youth, and everything I could want. He ran deep, like the chasms of the Grand Canyon I’d visited just once in my youth, before my father passed away. I remembered what it was like standing on the precipices of something monumental and larger than life, knowing that what I could see with my naked eyes only barely scratched the surface of what lay deeper. And once I’d descended into the depths, I’d been held in rapt wonder at the majestic, fearsome, overwhelming beauty of it all.
Sawyer’s passionate, broken, possessive, tortured self was beautiful to me. He needed a soft place, someone to come home to, a place where he could rest.
I wanted to be his soft place.
I wanted him to come home to me.
Deep down inside, I knew that if only I could get him to let me in, I could be what he needed to heal, the one he would trust.
I never knew what I was missing until I met him. A part of me even wished for a moment that I’d met him when he had no money, with no bargain or agreement standing between us, but I knew deep down in my heart that it wasn’t his wealth that attracted me to him, but so much more. He was brilliant, and the depths of his passions ran deep. He was arrogant, I knew, and he was a man who liked to be in control
But hell if I wasn’t a girl who liked to submit.
I wouldn’t submit to just anyone, this I knew. I couldn’t. I would never. But Sawyer? He unleashed in me forbidden desires I never knew were there. He made me feel alive, and special, and even now I longed to rush through the doors that separated us and reunite with him. He had his meetings in Paris later, but he’d return home and when he did... I’d run my hands along his back and neck, and watch the tension seep out of him. I’d listen to him when he had something to say, and offer my own perspective.
I wanted companionship. Passion. A real man, who could take on all of me and not crumple. I needed him.
I stared at the door for a good long while before I remembered that I was standing in the largest, most opulent, most exquisite library I’d ever seen in my life. I’d have all day to wonder about our relationship. Now I needed to get my hands on these books.
I pulled over a gleaming sliding ladder, and went up a few steps until I got to the very top. I just wanted to see what it was like up here. When I did, my head swam. It was crazier than I’d even imagined. The floor lay a good twelve feet below, and suddenly the ladder I held onto didn’t seem so sturdy. I turned back to the bookshelves, and pulled one off, drawn to the emerald-green leather binding. The Hobbit.
Oh, no way. I flipped it open, the gilded-edged pages smooth beneath my fingers. Turning one page after another, I inhaled the fragrant scent of paper and ink, leather and bindings, the most calming smell of a library. Amazing.
I tucked that one under my arm, then chose a leather-bound copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets, followed by a fetching hardcover version of Madeline. I would curl up on a chair and read about the little Parisian girl while sitting in Paris.
Paris! I’d almost forgotten we’d come all this way. I stepped down the ladder quickly, and walked out to the balcony. I sank down on what looked like a chair plush with cushions with my books. I assumed this was Sawyer’s chair. I smiled softly to myself. I loved it.
The sun had risen a little while ago, and now was high in the sky, the warm rays beating down on me in my secluded corner up on the balcony. The comfortable chairs nestled next to a fireplace that was built straight into the wall, covered with an overhanging ceiling that I assumed would allow us to enjoy the cool evening air even during inclement weather. Office supplies were tucked away on a makeshift desk, pens and papers and a small, slim, silver laptop sat on top. They were all tucked so far into the desk area that the rain or sleet would never touch them.
An office in paradise. Astounding.
I put my feet up on the outdoor ottoman, and leaned back in my chair, propping up the copy of Madeline on my lap. I had just started when a buzz came at my elbow and a voice I didn’t recognize came over a little speaker.
“Ms. Symphony, do you need anything at this time?”
Oh my. “I think I’m fine for now, thank you.”
“A cup of coffee? Some food to tide you over, perhaps?”
A cup of coffee sounded delicious. And how often would someone bring me coffee and food while I sat on a balcony in Paris?
“Sure,” I said. “A cup of coffee would be perfect, and maybe a little something to nibble on.” I was feeling pretty hungry.
“Right away,” came the voice, one I didn’t recognize. Shortly after, I heard the door to the library open, and soft footsteps approaching me. Moment later, a young woman with her hair tucked into a little bun came over to me, a tray with coffee and pastries.
“Oh, this looks delicious,” I said, extending my hand.
“Annabelle Symphony.”
The girl took it with a smile. “Maria,” she said. “Pleased to meet you. Please do let me know if I can assist you in any way.”
“Certainly. Thank you.”
With a bow, she took her leave. I chose a flaky croissant and placed it on a plate next to a steaming cup of coffee. Then I simply savored the moment, enjoying the view of the garden below us while sipping my coffee, which was deliciously dark, laced with cream, just how I liked it. After a few sips, I placed the cup down and picked up my book, squealing to myself in delight. I was in Paris.
I leaned back in the chair, comfortably warmed and fed, and began to read but after a moment my eyes rested on the silver computer. I remembered with a start that I really needed to check in with my sister like Sawyer had suggested. She’d wonder where I was after a time. He said I’d have the ability to get onto my phone here. I picked it up, and took it out of my bag, powering it on. When I did, I blinked in surprise. Ten unread messages popped up on my screen.
I clicked on the ones from Melody.
Where are you??? I need you. There’s an emergency with Mom.
I couldn’t believe I’d taken off to Paris without telling Melody, without checking on my mom!
Annabelle? I need to talk with you!
Whatever you do, do not listen to what is on the news!
My stomach dropped, a cold chill making me shiver.
I dialed her number, and she picked up on the first ring.
“Annabelle! Oh, thank God. We were looking everywhere. Even Gavin tried texting and calling you. He sent a crew out to Gryffin’s house to find you but you were both gone. Where are you?” Her voice was high-pitched and unnaturally tense.
“I’m in Paris.” Guilt washed over me. I never should have come here. Who was I to think it was okay to come to Paris? Really?
She groaned. “God, Annabelle! Really? Paris?” Her voice shifted a bit with excitement. “Is it awesome?”
“I have no idea! I just got here. His home in Paris is awesome, I can assure you of that. But forget about that for the moment. Tell me what’s going on!”
She sighed. “Well, you know Mom went to Gavin.”
“Yes...” My fingers clasped my heart and I closed my eyes. I swallowed hard, willing myself to stay calm, an awful feeling of dread coming over me. “Then what?”
“Have you not been online?” she asked quietly. “Annabelle…”
Cold washed over me as I sat at the table, lifting the little laptop he’d said I could use and opening the lid. The second I opened it, the welcome screen flashed on. I clicked the button to take me online, and typed in Whitby local news. The front page of the Whitby Tribune came into view, the headline story with a picture of me no less.
No.
“Annabelle?” Melody’s voice sounded distant. I shook my head. This was…no…I couldn’t even process what I was reading.
The police are in pursuit of none other than the infamous Sawyer Griffin, the man accused of being behind the mysterious death of an innocent female ten years prior, seems to have a penchant for young women. He’s taken Annabelle Symphony into his home and now sources say they are traveling around the country together, against her will.
After the news of her kidnapping broke, Annabelle’s mother was taken into custody for being a threat to herself and those around her. Mental illness is a strong suspect in this case. Local authorities are currently trying to track down Ms. Symphony.
I got to my feet.
“Annabelle?”
“They took Mom into custody,” I whispered. “Where is she?”
Melody’s voice wavered when she spoke. “She’s at McGovern,” she said, referencing the hospital outside of Whitby, the largest nearby hospital. “And they won’t let me see her. They think somehow I’m not trustworthy since I had her here and Mom is telling them I wouldn’t let her go. I don’t know what to do, Annabelle.”
“I know,” I said, rubbing a hand across my eyes. “I will fix this, Melody. I promise, I will fix this. I need to come home.”
“Will he let you? You’ve made an agreement to stay, and you’ll make your agreement null and voice. Maybe he will not allow it!”
A strange sense of defensiveness came over me. “You don’t know him,” I said, needing her to listen to me.
She snorted. “And you do? You’ve known him less than a week, and now you’re suddenly the expert?’
“It isn’t like that.”
“Yeah? Then what is it like? Want to tell me that?”
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “But not now. I will, though.” She would see, because now that I had him, I was not going to let him go. I was right where I was supposed to be.
Things would work out.
They had to.
