A Caged Songbird's Escape: Into the Arms of a Predator novel Chapter 154

Elissa’s gaze flickered over the suit jacket draped across his arm, at twinge of guilt pricking at her. “Alright, fine,” she murmured.

They’d both had a bit to drink. Cliff, who lived nearby, just called a cab and headed home, while Elissa booked a ride service for herself.

Maybe it was the deep sleep she’d had that afternoon, but now Elissa was wide awake, alert. Rowan, on the other hand, had just spent the evening humoring their mentor and had ended up drinking a few extra glasses. The moment he slid into the back seat, he leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. Elissa could smell the faint trace of alcohol on him, mingling with the subtle woodsy scent of his cologne.

She drank, sure, but she usually couldn’t stand the smell of liquor on someone else. Strangely, tonight, it didn’t bother her at all.

The car was quiet. Elissa turned and watched the blur of city lights through the window, unable to remember the last time she and Rowan had sat together like this–peaceful, almost comfortable.

It had been a long time.

So long, in fact, that she honestly couldn’t recall when.

She’d been holding onto a grudge ever since–the hurt of not

understanding why Rowan had just walked away from her, left her behind without a word.

And Rowan, for his part, was probably still bitter too–bitter that three years ago, she’d pushed back against him, insisted on marrying Frank, and made him look like a fool in front of everyone.

Ever since they’d run into each other again in Berlin, things between them had been tense–always one wrong word away from an argument.

“That ginseng root was always meant for Mr. Blaine.”

Out of nowhere, Rowan’s voice broke the silence.

09:18

Chapter 154

He’d been drinking–his voice was rougher than usual, softer, stripped of its usual edge.

Elissa blinked, surprised he was bothering to explain this to her. She

turned to look at him. “I thought you bought it for Secretary Lynn’s father…”

She remembered what he’d said at the auction–that someone wanted it, and he’d have a hard time explaining himself if he didn’t get it back.

Was that someone their mentor?

Rowan didn’t move, still slouched against the headrest, his eyes half–shut and unreadable in the shifting streetlights. He spoke again, his tone unreadable. “What do I care about her father?”

Elissa was suddenly certain–his girlfriend, or whoever held his heart, definitely wasn’t Lorraine. Otherwise, he’d at least pretend to care about the people close to her.

So who was it?

The question startled her the moment it surfaced–who Rowan actually cared about wasn’t her concern.

“Alright,” she said, nodding. “I didn’t realize you knew our mentor’s tastes.

so well.”

For someone as cold and distant as Rowan, it was surprising he’d even consider what their mentor might like.

Even sitting, he was taller than her, and he looked down at her for a long moment, a faint frown forming between his brows. “Who told you I was thinking about Mr. Blaine’s tastes?”

They almost never talked like this–Elissa felt herself relax, and blurted out, “Then whose tastes were you thinking about? Mine?”

She had wanted to buy the ginseng herself that night.

Rowan’s dark eyes bored straight into her, his gaze lingering on her lips. His voice was low, the words almost a growl. “That’s right. Yours.”

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