Kitabı oku: «Caught!», sayfa 5

He was a sick bastard, kidnapping a woman and then getting aroused over her sleeping body. But he couldn’t help himself. Everything about her excited him, and he was helpless against her. He wouldn’t violate her, never that. But he had taken advantage. He was the one who’d pulled her so close. And even as he drove, trying his damnedest to distance himself from what he’d done, he was pulling the pins from her hair and smoothing it with his fingers. He’d told himself he only meant to make her more comfortable, but he knew it was a lie.

Her flaming hair now lay thick and full and shiny over his lap and his belly and his thighs. He shuddered, feeling in his mind and body how it would be if he and Virginia were naked. He tangled a fist in the sinfully sexy mass and pulled it carefully away from her face.

Thick brown lashes lay over her pale cheeks, her lips slightly parted, all arrogance and dominance washed away. She didn’t look like a virago or a witch. She was simply an incredibly enticing woman. But he knew better, and he could only imagine how she’d react when she awoke. It would be a while yet. She’d been sleeping for only an hour. Still, he hadn’t given her that much of the drug, just enough to make certain she couldn’t figure out where they’d gone. He hadn’t wanted her to know where they’d be staying.

The sun was trying to show itself on this hazy winter morning and they’d almost reached their destination when he felt her fingers move, clasping weakly at his thigh. She made a small moaning sound and he stilled. He wanted her to sleep just a little longer. There was one more thing he had to do—one more precaution to take—once they reached the cabin, and it would be easier for both of them if Virginia slept through it.

Because he knew without a single doubt, Virginia would never willingly give up her clothes.

He didn’t plan to give her a choice.

chapter 6

VIRGINIA OPENED her eyes and accepted the feeling of dread that swirled around her. Cautiously, not sure what was wrong or why she felt so disoriented, she lay perfectly still and peered at her surroundings. Her head pounded as she took in the rough plank walls and bare floor. She was in a narrow bed piled high with quilts, cozy and warm, but the air on her face was cool. The cabin, or more like a shack, didn’t appear to have modern conveniences, but the fireplace across the room blazed brightly, the flames licking high and casting an orange glow over the otherwise dark room.

Memories returned in bits and pieces, and with them came a deep ache in her heart. She closed her eyes and bit her lips as the emotional pain swelled.

That rotten, deceiving conniver. That miserable creep. He’d kidnapped her! He’d played her for a fool, pretending to want her, when in truth it had all been a game. She opened her eyes and willed away the tears that threatened. Virginia Johnson did not cry.

After taking several uncertain breaths, she worked up the nerve to turn her head and look for Dillon. She didn’t see him anywhere. The minuscule cabin had only one separate room, not much bigger than a closet. Through its open door she could see it was a bathroom, butting up next to the kitchen area. There was one narrow counter, a stove, small freezer and refrigerator situated around a metal sink. The cabin’s one and only window, mostly blocked by snow on the outside, was situated over the sink.

There were two chairs, one a wooden rocker, the other a threadbare armchair, facing the fireplace. The bed she was lying in—a cot, really—hugged the back wall. Beside the cot was a small dresser that served as a nightstand, holding a clock and a tiny lamp with no shade. In the middle of the room was a badly scarred pine table and two matching chairs.

There was no sound other than the snapping and hissing of the fire. She swallowed, wondering if she might have a chance to escape.

Damn the cold and the snow and whatever distance they’d covered. She would not accept being a victim without choices. It didn’t matter to her if she had to run all the way home.

But as she cautiously sat up in the bed and the quilts fell to her lap, she realized something that had escaped her notice thus far.

Dillon had taken all her clothes.

She stared, appalled, at her barely covered breasts. She had on her teddy, thank God, but other than that, she was as bare as the day she’d been born. Her nipples, stiff now with the washing of cold air, could be plainly seen through the material. Her nylons were even gone, but it didn’t matter.

Mortification hit her first. He’d removed her clothes! He’d viewed her imperfect body, no doubt in minute detail. He’d looked at her at his leisure and found the evidence of her extra pounds—her rounded hips and thighs, the softness of her belly, the fullness of her breasts. She wondered if he’d chuckled as he stripped off her clothes; had he been amused by her attempt at seductiveness?

She felt queasy, sick with embarrassment. Her face flamed and her vision blurred. It was more than a woman could accept, more than she could bear.

Thankfully, outrage hit next, bringing with it a bloodcurdling scream of rage that erupted from her throat and resounded through the tiny cabin again and again.

The door crashed open and Dillon came charging in, his body strangely balanced as if for battle, his gaze alert as he made a quick, thorough survey of the room. He held himself in a fighter’s stance, his black gaze steely and bright. Virginia could only stare.

Oh my. Closing her mouth slowly, she looked him over. He’d shed his civilized demeanor and hadn’t left behind a single trace. His long hair, held off his face by a red bandanna rolled and tied around his forehead, gave him a pagan appearance. The bruise shadowing his nose and the corner of his mouth, discolored even through his sun-browned skin, added to the impression of savagery. His jeans were faded and torn, displaying a part of one muscular thigh and two bare knees. The material over his fly was soft and white with age and cupped him lovingly. His heavy coat was gone, and his flannel shirt lay open at the throat, the sleeves rolled high over a gray thermal shirt. Incredibly, he seemed to be sweating.

His black eyes lit on her, then perused her body, lingering on her throbbing breasts and the shadowed juncture of her legs. Belatedly, Virginia grabbed the quilt and snatched it to her throat. Her insides seemed to curl up tight.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Virginia stared at him. His chest heaved from whatever activity had made him sweat, and possibly the fright she’d given him. She realized that he must have come charging in prepared to rescue her from some unknown threat. She wanted to laugh—after all, he was her only threat—but she couldn’t manage it.

When she remained mute, he firmed his mouth into a grim line and headed back to close the door he’d left hanging open. “Stupid question, right? Do you always screech like a wet cat when you wake up?”

She was taken aback by his uncharacteristic sarcasm, and it took her a moment to gather the wit to speak. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

“Gone.”

That flat answer caused her heart to skip in dread. “What do you mean, gone? Damn it, Dillon, what’s going on here?”

He walked over and sat on the edge of the cot, prompting her to scurry back as far as she could. The wall felt cold against her shoulder blades, but the alternative would have been to touch him, and that was out of the question. She could already smell him—a cold, fresh-air scent mixed with raw masculinity and clean sweat. His dark eyes had never looked more intense as he took his time gazing at her features.

In a low, awe-filled voice, he asked, “How the hell did you manage to hide so much hair in that tight little knot you usually wear?” His gaze followed the length of one long curl as it rippled over her shoulder, almost to her lap. Words beyond her, Virginia squirmed under his scrutiny.

He reached out and twined a thick strand around his finger. “I’ve never seen hair like yours.”

Virginia jerked, then winced at the tug on her hair. Dillon released her.

He chewed the side of his mouth, all the while studying her. “I was outside chopping wood. I meant to be in here when you woke up so you wouldn’t be frightened. But as you can see, the only heat we’re going to have here is from the fireplace and stove.”

“Let me go.”

“No.” He pulled the bandanna off and used it to wipe his face. His long hair fell free and she caught another whiff of that enticing scent unique to him. “After I finish splitting the wood, I’ll put on some soup or something and you can eat. I’ll have you comfortable soon enough.”

No longer was he the man she knew. He didn’t act or move or speak like the old Dillon. There was no feigned deference, no show of politeness. He told her what he would do, and seemed to think she’d simply accept it.

But her mind shied away from that, from the ramifications of being stolen away by a man she didn’t know—this man. So she skipped the questions clamoring uppermost in her mind and concentrated on another, more immediate one. “Where are my clothes, you bastard?”

He made a tsking sound, amusement bright in his eyes. “Such language, and from a lady of your standing.”

Without thought, she swung at him, her burst of anger overshadowing her better judgment. When he caught her fist, he was grinning with genuine humor. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re not wailing and crying and shivering in fear.” He moved, flipping her down on the bed and catching her other fist, too, as she swung it. He leaned over her, his big body hot and hard, covering her own. In a whisper, he said, “Don’t fight me, Virginia. You can’t win.”

His gaze bore into hers, and he was so close she felt his every breath. Then, suddenly, he sat up and moved away. The racing of her heart and the jumping of her stomach refused to subside. She didn’t move, too intent on trying to calm herself from what felt like a tussle with a large male animal. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

He caught a chair from the table and swung it around, straddling it so he could face her. “I took your clothes so you won’t try running off again. I can’t let you hurt yourself, and that’s exactly what would happen if you tried to escape me.”

Slowly, keeping a watchful eye on him, she sat back up and rearranged the quilt to cover her body. “What would you do to me if I tried?”

Deep dimples creased his sun-bronzed cheeks as he laughed. “I don’t intend to do anything to you.”

The words, combined with his misplaced humor, hurt more than she wanted to admit. Virginia lifted her chin. “Of course I realize now that you never wanted me, that pretending to want me was only a nasty little scam to fool me. That’s not what I meant.”

The humor left as quickly as it had appeared. “We’re a long way from anything,” he said, biting off the words. “There’s nothing but ice and snow and freezing cold out there. If you tried to find your way home or find help, you’d never make it. The snow has gotten worse, burying all the roads. Taking your clothes was just a way to discourage you from even trying.”

“I won’t run, I promise. Just give me my clothes.”

He eyed her, his gaze drifting lazily over her face. “I know you, Virginia. I know how your mind works. You’ll try to run because sitting here doing nothing is the one thing you won’t be able to abide.”

“Yes, you know me so well,” she sneered, wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt her. But she couldn’t because he didn’t actually care about her. He never had. “You’ve been working on this plan for a long time, haven’t you? When exactly did you come up with the idea?”

“To kidnap you? After the break-in at your house.”

“Ha! Can’t you be honest even now? Do you expect me to think you were ever sincere, that anything between us has ever been real?”

His gaze never faltered, but she saw his hands tighten into fists, saw the muscles of his shoulders bunch. “I got myself hired on at the company and talked you into coming away with me, all for a single purpose.”

Knowing it and actually hearing it were two different things. She fought back the lump that formed in her throat and tried not to sound as wounded as she felt. “That’s what I figured. What an idiot I’ve been.”

He cursed and she jumped at the sound. “You’re not an idiot, Virginia. I’m just very good at what I do.”

“Lying, you mean?”

His look was quelling. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

He shook his head and she knew the subject was closed. “Are you hungry? Or do you want something to drink?”

“And have you poison me again? No, thanks. Maybe next time you’ll kill me.”

He growled and came off his chair with a burst of energy. Pushing long fingers through his hair, he paced away from her, then jerked back around to face her, his expression fierce. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just the opposite, damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow, deliberately egging him on. Somewhere, deep inside, she refused to be truly afraid of him. She’d spent better than two weeks getting to know him, and she couldn’t believe her intuition had been so flawed. She refused to accept that she could have made such an enormous error. But she was hurt. Very hurt. And that made her almost blind with anger. “I suppose I should accept the word of a kidnapper? A pervert?”

He propped his hands on lean hips and his jaw worked. “I am not a pervert.”

“You stole my clothes while I was unconscious!” She still couldn’t bear the thought of it. “You…you looked at me! That’s the lowest, most despicable…”

He stalked closer and bent low until he was nose to nose with her. “I’ll take the rest of your damn clothes with you wide-awake if you don’t stop trying to provoke me!”

Again, she cowered, wondering why she’d ever wanted a man who would stand up to her. Right now, she’d gladly trade Dillon for a man who would do her bidding.

The look on his face and the set of his body told her there’d be no swaying him. She swallowed and wisely decided against saying anything that might agitate him further.

Dillon shook his head in disgust. He straightened and took a small step away from the cot. “Damn it, I don’t want to yell at you. I don’t want to frighten you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, forgetting herself again while still keeping watch on him.

His head dropped forward and he laughed. “Ah, Virginia, you just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He scrubbed both hands over his face, then raised his gaze to her again. He no longer laughed, but his smile lingered. He shook his head when he saw how he’d confused her. “You’re a unique woman, you know that?”

The softly spoken words wiggled down deep into her heart, and she almost choked on her bitterness. She would not play the fool again. “Are you forgetting, Dillon, that the game is over? There’s no reason for you to continue to flatter me with your nonsense. I’ve already been duped. Your plan succeeded.”

He sat back in his chair with a deep sigh. “Would you like to know what the plan actually is, or are you happier to sit there and bitch?”

Virginia felt the words like a slap and she scowled. “How dare you?”

“What? Are you going to fire me?” He laughed again. “Grow up, Virginia. We’re on new ground now. You’ll find I can dare to do whatever I choose.”

Her pulse fluttered in dread, but Dillon just made a sound of disgust. “Now don’t go rounding those big gold eyes at me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve already told you that.”

“You’re threatening me,” she said indignantly.

“Not at all. Just trying to explain to you what I have in mind.”

Virginia tightened her hold on the quilt and glared at him. “Well, you can save your breath, because I already figured it out.”

“Is that so?” He waved an encouraging hand at her. “So tell me, Virginia. What have you deduced in that quick little mind of yours?”

“You want money. But that’s plain stupid, and I hadn’t figured you for stupid.” She looked him over with as much contempt as she could muster, then added, “A criminal, maybe, but not a stupid one. Surely you realize there’s no love lost between me and Cliff. In fact, he detests me. I won’t be surprised if he refuses to pay you a single penny. He’ll probably be glad to be rid of me.”

“That’s part of what had me so worried, truth to tell,” he admitted, his words sharp and filled with anger.

“Ah, that bothers you, doesn’t it? You’re stuck with me and there’s no way to collect. Now what’ll you do?”

Very deliberately, he stood and put his chair back at the table. As he retied the bandanna around his forehead, she watched the flexing of his biceps and the bunching muscles of his forearms and thick wrists.

“Virginia?”

Her gaze shot back to his glaring face and she reddened, knowing he’d caught her staring.

“I think I’ll save the conversation for later. If I stay in here and listen to you go on, I might be tempted to violence.”

“Ha! You said you wouldn’t hurt me. Are you a liar as well as a kidnapper and a pervert?” She silently cursed the words once they’d left her mouth, but right now, words were all she had. She felt defenseless and vulnerable and emotionally wounded. She hated it. She almost hated him.

Dillon headed for the door. “No, I’m not a liar. And I won’t hurt you. At least, not the way you’re implying. But if I hear you putting yourself down like that again, I will turn you over my knee. And trust me, you won’t enjoy the experience.” As he opened the door he looked at her over his shoulder, and his black gaze lingered on her hips. “Although, considering what you’ve put me through these past weeks, I think I’d probably enjoy every second of it.”

The door slammed closed behind him and Virginia let out her breath. Good grief, she felt scorched by that look and the words that had accompanied it. Put herself down? Was that what she’d been doing? And why should he care anyway?

Dillon wasn’t the man she’d believed him to be. He definitely wasn’t the meek, considerate lover she expected. No, Dillon would never accept half measures in the dark; she had a feeling that when he made love, he did so with the same intensity he’d just shown her. He wouldn’t be nice about it; he’d be demanding, taking everything a woman had and giving her back just as much of himself.

Virginia shivered at the thought of making love to this new Dillon. He was hard and commanding—but for some reason, she still, ultimately, felt safe with him. At times his expression seemed foreboding, but she never feared any real harm or she wouldn’t have given her mouth so much freedom. Dillon would not hurt her.

His contradictions—the way he used his strength and power with such devastating gentleness—thrilled her to the center of her feminine core. Every time he looked at her, her heart knocked against her ribs and her stomach tightened with desire.

She still wanted him, probably more than ever. But to him she was only a means to an end. For that, she would never forgive him.

She closed her eyes on a silent groan. She had to be the biggest fool alive because she wanted him anyway. Until now, she hadn’t known such a need could exist. If she didn’t get away from Dillon soon, she’d probably end up begging him to take her.

She couldn’t let that happen.

chapter 7

CHOPPING WOOD PROVED to be cathartic. Dillon could release his tension, both sexual and emotional.

Seeing her sitting there, her thick mass of hair loose and silky, her heavy breasts with the large dark nipples barely restrained by her sheer lingerie, had cost him. When he’d undressed her, he’d tried to be detached. He hadn’t looked any more than he had to, and he’d detested himself because he got aroused anyway.

With Virginia wide-awake and spitting venom at him, he hadn’t not been able to look. He wanted her. He wanted her so bad he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He lingered on the memory of those rounded breasts in his palms, and he wanted, at this moment, to know the taste of her nipples, to suck her and lick her and hear her moan for him.

He should have explained it all to her. That would have put her at ease, at least on one level. But she’d have been devastated to know the lengths Cliff had gone to to get rid of her. He wanted to demolish Cliff, and before this was over, he probably would.

Virginia might not believe him if he told her all his suspicions right now. She’d admitted to knowing how little Cliff cared for her, but Dillon knew she didn’t think he was really capable of hurting her. She disdained Cliff, she didn’t fear him.

Still, Dillon should have explained about Wade. Then maybe she wouldn’t consider him a mercenary bastard driven by monetary rewards. She would have known, too, the absurdity of her charge that he didn’t want her. He wanted her too damn much.

But putting some distance between them had been the most immediate necessity. He’d kidnapped her, and once this was over, he’d leave. That was an irrefutable fact. He wouldn’t complicate things by giving in to his need. Throwing in the threat of a paddling had been sheer self-defense. He had to find a way to get her to stop baiting him, so he could find a way to keep his distance and do what he knew to be right. But with every word out of her mouth, she tempted him in a way no other woman had. He wanted to kiss her quiet, to prove his dominance over her, to be male to her female.

Not that he would ever raise a hand to her. His father had taught him that hurting anyone smaller or weaker than himself was a sign of true cowardice. Even worse was to hurt a woman. Females were to be protected, looked after. Just as you protected your family. Only, Virginia didn’t want or need anyone to protect her. Disregarding physical strength, she was the most capable woman he’d ever met. Which meant he had no place in her life at all. What he had to give, she didn’t need. And when all was said and done, she wouldn’t want him around anyway.

But he wasn’t going to explain his feelings to Virginia. If she feared him just a little, maybe she’d keep her insults behind her teeth and give him some peace. He enjoyed her show of defiance, but right now he needed to enjoy her a little less so he could maintain some control.

His arms loaded with firewood, he kicked the front door open. He automatically looked toward the bed, and Virginia, but she wasn’t there. Only sheer instinct caused him to drop the wood and roll away a split second before a heavy frying pan came swishing past his head.

He cursed, then grabbed her bare ankles and jerked. She went down hard on her bottom, screeching curses so hot it was a wonder they didn’t melt the snow. He snatched the frying pan out of her hand when she tried again to heft the damn thing toward his skull.

“Goddammit!” It was like wrestling with a wild woman. He did his best not to hurt her when he slammed down on top of her, using his knee to spread her bare thighs so she couldn’t kick him and holding both her wrists in one tight fist. “Keep still, Virginia, before you hurt yourself!”

“You’re the one hurting me, you cretin! Let me go.” She thrashed and her hair whipped around her face, slapping against him.

“No.” Dillon dropped his forehead to her shoulder, then quickly flinched away when she tried to sink her teeth into his neck. Clasping her chin with his free hand, he growled, “Maybe I should give you that paddling now.”

“Try it and I’ll emasculate you!”

So much for empty threats, he thought.

She wiggled and he felt the softness of her, the giving of her feminine body cradling his own. He clenched his jaw even as his muscles hardened and his penis followed suit. From one breath to the next he was as hard as a stone, pressing into her soft belly. “You already tried emasculating me, remember? I may never father children.”

The low, husky sound of his voice gave away his dilemma, and Virginia stilled, her eyes wide on his face. In a whisper, she asked, “Criminals don’t want to father children, do they?”

The absurdity of it hit him. How could this woman, whom—he kept reminding himself—he did not like, keep making him lose his head? It defied reason.

“Forget I said that.” He pushed up, coming to his knees between her spread thighs. She gasped and struggled, but he held her wrists.

Staring hard into her eyes, he asked, “Why did you attack me?”

“Because I can’t let you use me.”

Despite his best intentions, Dillon gazed over her body. Her legs were sprawled around him, the teddy pulled tight to her frame, showing every curve and hollow. Damn but she was lush and rounded and generously built, the way a woman was supposed to be built. She would cushion a man with her feminine curves. He felt all that giving softness beneath him, and the feeling tempted him. Damn but it tempted him.

Forcing himself to look away from the outline of her feminine cleft, the hint of soft curls, he raised his gaze to her face. He saw her flushed cheeks and the wariness in her eyes. He understood. He himself could barely breathe. “Virginia, I have no intention of forcing myself on you. You don’t have to be worried about rape.”

Her mouth fell open before she narrowed her eyes and hissed, “I wasn’t talking about that, you ass! I was talking about your using me in some moneymaking scheme.”

She strained against his grip, and he struggled to subdue her. “In that, you have no choice.” He touched her shoulder where an angry red welt had risen against her white skin. “Did I hurt you when I yanked you down?”

“This is insane!” Her voice now sounded shaky and he continued to soothe the small injury with strokes of his fingertips. “First you kidnap me and now you’re concerned about giving me a bruise or two?”

“You have other bruises?”

The flush spread to her breasts and she looked away. “No, I just…”

“Show me, Virginia.”

Her chest heaved and she briefly closed her eyes. “Get off me, you oaf.”

When she looked at him again, he could see her embarrassment in the way she squirmed. He tilted his head, then surveyed her lush hips, remembering how hard she’d hit the floor. “Your bottom? Did I hurt you when I pulled you down?”

He could feel her trembling. “Dillon, please, this is ridiculous.”

He released her and stood, then caught her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. He didn’t like hearing her beg, didn’t like seeing her fear of him. Holding her a moment longer than was necessary, he studied her downcast face, the way her hair fell like a curtain, hiding her expression and a good portion of her body. He dropped his hands and took a step away. “Get in the bed before you catch pneumonia. This floor is like ice.”

Her back stiffened. “Why don’t you just give me back my boots then?”

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t put the thought of other bruises from his mind. He studied her, his gaze lingering again on her hips.

“Dillon?”

He shook his head. “No. I like you better just the way you are, honey.”

Her beautiful eyes narrowed and she hissed a vicious curse at him.

He couldn’t help but laugh, then he chucked her chin. “Face it, Virginia. Like this, you’re more manageable. Now get in the bed before I put you there.”

He picked up the frying pan and stepped over scattered logs as he went into the kitchen, not bothering to see if she obeyed. A moment later, he heard the cot squeak, and when he looked, Virginia was again buried beneath the quilts. She stared toward him, her expression stony.

After washing his hands, he opened the refrigerator and found a small roast. He put it on a battered old cutting board. “Cliff is charging my younger brother, Wade, with embezzlement.”

Using a sharp knife—one he vowed to remember to hide after he finished his chore—Dillon cut the meat into small chunks and put them in a stew pot. “I know you had no idea Wade Sanders is my brother. Actually, we’re half brothers, so our last names are different and we don’t look a hell of a lot alike. We share the same mother, though I never knew the woman.” He glanced at Virginia to see how she took his explanation. She watched him, blessedly silent for a change.

“Wade is innocent, of course, but since I don’t know what trumped-up evidence your brother has on him, I couldn’t defend him. We obviously don’t have the money your family has. Taking this to court would be ludicrous. Your brother’s high-priced lawyers would crucify Wade. I had to think of another plan.”

He added water to the pot and lit the stove. After throwing in a chopped onion and putting on the lid, he went to the fireplace and piled on more logs. Sparks leaped out at him, then landed harmlessly on the dusty wooden floor, where they faded away.

Personally, he thought the room was already too warm, but then, he was fully clothed. And damn near fully aroused.

He glanced at Virginia. Her entire body was rigid. “This may come as a surprise, but Wade and your sister, Kelsey, are in love.”

He heard her gasp and their eyes connected. He felt touched by her anxiety, but forced himself to ignore it. It was past time she got things straight.

Small logs were scattered all over the floor from where he’d dropped them when she’d attacked. He began gathering them up, more to give himself something to do than for the sake of neatness. “On top of all that, and regardless of what you think, someone is trying to hurt you. I don’t know for sure who it is yet, but I have my suspicions.” He wouldn’t come right out and name her brother. That would serve no purpose, at least not yet.

“You’re the one trying to hurt me, Dillon.”

He stilled in the process of stacking the wood by the fireplace, unable to ignore her sneering tone. Without looking at her, he said, “Never. I didn’t lie about that, Virginia. When this is all over, I’ll take you back and then disappear. You don’t have to be afraid about that.”