Free His by Brenda Rothert

ice.
    “I can ask Ty to go check on your sister again if you’re worried about her,” I offer. “The doctor I sent over.”
    Quinn turns to me with a sharp look. “I knew you’d use that as an opportunity to pry. Don’t ever mention her again.”
    “Ty called to tell me how it went. Why did you tell me you had a sibling if you wanted her to be a big secret?”
    “I thought I’d never see you again when I said that.”
    I can’t help a slight smirk. “And now? What exactly is it you’re worried about?”
    “I mean it, Andrew,” she says coldly. “Don’t go there.”
    “This is going great so far,” I mutter.
    We both resort to staring out the window. I wish I would’ve ordered dinner in because there’s no way this night will end well.

Quinn
    Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least. The restaurant was so expensive there weren’t even any prices on the menu. I was thinking the whole time about how many people could have eaten a decent dinner on what Andrew was spending on just the two of us.
    I suspect the sex part of our deal will be easier for me than the part where I pretend to feel like Cinderella being swept off to a ball. If you ask me, Cinderella put up with her stepmother’s bullshit for way too long. She should have rescued herself well before that prince showed up.
    As soon as we got back to the warehouse, I went to my bedroom to put away the mountains of clothes and shoes I’d gotten earlier.
    On Sunday, Andrew was in his home office with the door closed when I woke up. He came out for a sandwich at lunch and barely even said hello, then spent the rest of the day in there.
    It’s Monday now, and I’m reading my fourth book since getting here. I heard Andrew leave around sunrise, and I got up, too. I spent much of the night tossing and turning because I’m worried about Bethy and Bean.
    Is she still sick? Is the cash allowing them to travel without identification? Have they drawn suspicion?
    I won’t be able to stop worrying like this until I know they’ve safely crossed the border into Mexico. It’s killing me that Bethy’s safety is in someone’s hands other than mine, even if it’s Bean, whom I trust completely.
    If they get caught, it will all be for nothing. All the cold nights, the hunger, the people I fucking stabbed to keep us safe, will be a waste. I won’t have a life left here or anywhere else if Bethy gets sent back home.
    A little after ten AM I’m trying to read a page in my book for the fifth time when the front door opens. I walk into the living room and see a biracial woman with a pretty smile and graying hair.
    “Hi there,” she says. “I’m Turner. Mr. Wentworth’s chef and housekeeper.”
    “Oh, hi. I’m Quinn.”
    Finally , someone I can talk to. Part of the reason I’m worried sick is because I’m all alone in this huge place with nothing to do.
    “Pleased to meet you, Quinn.” She walks over to a pantry in the kitchen and opens the door, taking an apron from a hook and putting it on. “I’ll be cleaning and cooking, so don’t mind me.”
    “What can I help with?”
    She chuckles lightly. “Thanks for offering, but I’ve got it.”
    “No, really. I’ll do anything.”
    She meets my gaze across the vast space between the wide-open kitchen and living room. “Mr. Wentworth would not approve of that.”
    I sigh deeply. Being a kept woman kind of sucks so far.
    “Sure,” I say. “I think I’ll head out for a bit.”
    Turner just nods and gets to work in the kitchen. I get my coat and hat and leave through the front door of the warehouse, keeping my head down to block the icy wind whipping at my face.
    It feels good to be walking. Normal. Some of the people I pass on the streets ignore me, but others look over. Some even nod or smile. Apparently an expensive coat and boots make me worthy of their notice.
    I put a few miles behind me and realize walking in brand-new leather boots with heels is uncomfortable. I kind of wish for my old,