Chapter 67 The Feelings Deep Inside

He ignored that outburst. “If you follow this hall to the far end, you will find the kitchen. Feel free to help yourself to anything that appeals to you. If you wish to rest—and I suggest you do—there are many chambers to choose from.” The words he used sounded almost welcoming, but his tone reminded her of bullets one after the next, and none of them anything but deadly. “Pick any you like.”

Omar Farouq stepped away from her then, but it seemed as if it took him a little too long to drop her hand. Or maybe it only seemed that way to her because she could feel too much or because she wanted him to feel something, anything.

And then, when he did finally drop her hand, she could still feel it, and that was incalculably worse.

“You have had five years to make all the decisions you liked,” he said quietly. Too quietly, when his eyes blazed the way they did. When she still felt like a tattered bit of target practice, and worse, like the lover he’d discarded years ago—but as if it had just