A Caged Songbird's Escape: Into the Arms of a Predator novel Chapter 276

These days, Elissa could tell that when Ian and the others gave their reports, they cut straight to the point, no fluff or unnecessary details.

She unlocked the door and kicked off her shoes. “Didn’t you always say you hated small talk?”

“I want to hear it now,” Rowan replied, following her inside with unhurried ease. He slipped his hands around her waist and, with a gentle lift, set her down on the hall console. Bracing one hand on the cabinet beside her legs, he fixed those dark eyes on her. “Tell me anyway.”

“...”

The scent of his soap mingled with a faint, woody cologne, making her ears burn. Elissa, a little flustered, obediently recited the trivial details he’d probably already heard from someone else.

“I installed a security camera a while back—asked Ian to do it. It finally came in handy today.”

“That’s it?”

Rowan hadn’t expected her to be even more succinct than his own assistants.

She used to chatter endlessly, even about the tiniest things.

“That’s it.” Elissa nodded, stifling a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

She hadn’t slept in over a day, and her afternoon at the lab had drained what little energy she had left. Sleep was all she wanted.

Rowan glanced down and saw the fatigue shimmering in her eyes. He tapped her gently on the head. “Wait here.”

“For what?”

Before she even finished the question, he had already strode off, long legs carrying him through the door across the hall.

Max—their black Labrador—spotted Elissa from afar and trotted over, only to be intercepted by Rowan’s firm arm. “Your mom’s tired tonight,” Rowan informed the dog, dead serious. “You can pester her tomorrow.”

Max got the message, whined a little, and retreated to his bed. His dark, soulful eyes followed Rowan’s every move as he grabbed an insulated food container from the dining table—the kind delivered from their favorite bistro. When Rowan headed back towards Elissa’s place, Max scrambled up, tail wagging, but stopped at the closed door, barking once in protest.

He glanced down at his clothes, suddenly self-conscious. Wasn’t he dressed like the guys her age?

Elissa realized from his tone she’d crossed a line. She ducked her head, shoveling food into her mouth. “...Nothing. Forget it.”

She was so desperate to sleep that she finished her meal in record time.

As she drained the last of her corn soup, something dawned on her foggy mind.

Rowan had already showered, and here he was—back at her place, making no move to leave.

...

Swallowing her soup, Elissa turned to him, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. “I—I’m really too tired tonight...”