the work for her dissertation, the doctoral degree that would help her support herself and her mother and get them out of this mess. Neither of them had the funds to buy a new one now.
She rolled off the bed and began pacing again but finally stopped and leaned against the doorjamb. She wasn’t a pacer; she did her best thinking when all was still. She needed to slow down and consider what this change in her situation meant.
Alex Wolfe had been released early from prison. He’d done his time and served his sentence. He was a free man, back on his own property. She stroked the door’s oak trim. This was his property.
She couldn’t stay here. There was no way.
But where would she go?
Another shiver went through her, significantly cooler than the one she’d felt outside under his watchful gaze. There was nowhere else she could find the peace to do her work. It had become impossible back in the city. Once her classmates at NYU had figured out who her father was, the attacks had been relentless. The harsh accusations, the scathing stares, the stalking by the press …
She moved to the living room, wrapped herself in the afghan on the sofa and huddled into its cushions. The leather was Wolfe property; the afghan was hers.
She never would have come here if she’d thought she’d cross paths with the man. He was supposed to be behind bars for another six months, and she’d thought
that
sentence was too lenient. Most people had agreed with her.
‘Damn overcrowding,’ she hissed. How could the prisons be overcrowded when people who should be locked up were still roaming around free? People like his grandfather Bartholomew.
Angry with herself for going down that path, Elena tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair and ran her hands through the long strands. She was scared, she had to admit it. What was she going to do? She wasn’t ready to go back outside that wrought-iron gate, back into the real world. It had chewed her up and spit her out. She’d come here looking for answers.
But she didn’t have them yet.
She glanced around the cottage. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet little place in the month she’d been here. The house was nicer than the one she’d grown up in, but that’s how the Wolfe family thought of it … as a bungalow. Yet it fit her needs. It had given her the seclusion she’d needed to lick her wounds and concentrate on her studies. Leonard had even given her free access to the library in the main house. She’d only ventured out to Bedford a few times for groceries or to the post office. She’d grown comfortable here.
She didn’t feel so comfortable any more.
She pulled the afghan higher around her shoulders. God, the man was something. Enigmatic and provocative. She hated to think what he’d be like up close. All that danger and power and mercilessness rolled into one.
She shifted on the sofa, rubbing her thighs together unconsciously. She knew she should run, but the way he’d looked at her …
What was she going to do?
This changed everything.
Chapter Two
Elena slid another box into the trunk of her old-model Malibu and wondered for the hundredth time if everything would fit. She’d been up most of the night worrying and packing. It was amazing how deeply she’d settled into the lake house in such a short time. She hadn’t collected much stuff, but it had expanded somehow. It was certainly strewn about. She was still finding NYU mugs in the kitchen and peppermint lipgloss in the bathroom.
She wedged the box tighter against one that was already stowed. The space was going to be needed. She hadn’t packed up the second bedroom yet, the one she’d used as her office.
Her heart dipped.
She hated the thought of leaving before she was done. She’d made so much progress here. Things were organised the way she wanted, and the solitude allowed her to concentrate. That might not sound like much, but putting together a dissertation was a major undertaking. Getting rid of
She rolled off the bed and began pacing again but finally stopped and leaned against the doorjamb. She wasn’t a pacer; she did her best thinking when all was still. She needed to slow down and consider what this change in her situation meant.
Alex Wolfe had been released early from prison. He’d done his time and served his sentence. He was a free man, back on his own property. She stroked the door’s oak trim. This was his property.
She couldn’t stay here. There was no way.
But where would she go?
Another shiver went through her, significantly cooler than the one she’d felt outside under his watchful gaze. There was nowhere else she could find the peace to do her work. It had become impossible back in the city. Once her classmates at NYU had figured out who her father was, the attacks had been relentless. The harsh accusations, the scathing stares, the stalking by the press …
She moved to the living room, wrapped herself in the afghan on the sofa and huddled into its cushions. The leather was Wolfe property; the afghan was hers.
She never would have come here if she’d thought she’d cross paths with the man. He was supposed to be behind bars for another six months, and she’d thought
that
sentence was too lenient. Most people had agreed with her.
‘Damn overcrowding,’ she hissed. How could the prisons be overcrowded when people who should be locked up were still roaming around free? People like his grandfather Bartholomew.
Angry with herself for going down that path, Elena tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair and ran her hands through the long strands. She was scared, she had to admit it. What was she going to do? She wasn’t ready to go back outside that wrought-iron gate, back into the real world. It had chewed her up and spit her out. She’d come here looking for answers.
But she didn’t have them yet.
She glanced around the cottage. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet little place in the month she’d been here. The house was nicer than the one she’d grown up in, but that’s how the Wolfe family thought of it … as a bungalow. Yet it fit her needs. It had given her the seclusion she’d needed to lick her wounds and concentrate on her studies. Leonard had even given her free access to the library in the main house. She’d only ventured out to Bedford a few times for groceries or to the post office. She’d grown comfortable here.
She didn’t feel so comfortable any more.
She pulled the afghan higher around her shoulders. God, the man was something. Enigmatic and provocative. She hated to think what he’d be like up close. All that danger and power and mercilessness rolled into one.
She shifted on the sofa, rubbing her thighs together unconsciously. She knew she should run, but the way he’d looked at her …
What was she going to do?
This changed everything.
Chapter Two
Elena slid another box into the trunk of her old-model Malibu and wondered for the hundredth time if everything would fit. She’d been up most of the night worrying and packing. It was amazing how deeply she’d settled into the lake house in such a short time. She hadn’t collected much stuff, but it had expanded somehow. It was certainly strewn about. She was still finding NYU mugs in the kitchen and peppermint lipgloss in the bathroom.
She wedged the box tighter against one that was already stowed. The space was going to be needed. She hadn’t packed up the second bedroom yet, the one she’d used as her office.
Her heart dipped.
She hated the thought of leaving before she was done. She’d made so much progress here. Things were organised the way she wanted, and the solitude allowed her to concentrate. That might not sound like much, but putting together a dissertation was a major undertaking. Getting rid of
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