CHAPTER NINE
On the assumption that “upstairs” meant the bedroom, Ivy had gone straight there. Getting away from Bruno the Letch was a reprieve. At least the worst thing she’d had to touch were his feet, anything more intimate would’ve made her puke. Literally.
Before closing the bedroom door, she’d overheard the men talking downstairs. A month and a half was what Bruno had said. Judging by his tone, Dax was no happier about being there than her. If he was somehow indebted or being coerced into this, he too was a prisoner, just in a different form. He wasn’t being deliberately cruel through choice; it was a necessity.
When they stopped talking, she closed the door and hurried further into the room.
Less than a minute later, Dax stalked in and slammed the door. Why was he so tense?
“Ta
