“You need to eat,” came Harrison’s deep voice.

She glanced up to see him gesturing at the love seat.

“I need to make a phone call,” she told him, her tone biting.

Melanie and Robbie must be nearly frantic with worry by now. What if it distracted them from their race preparation?

Then Julia wondered if the authorities would simply inform Melanie and Robbie she was in custody at Cadair Racing. If there was some kind of central database of prisoners, Melanie and Robbie could show up here any minute.

“I’m afraid I still can’t allow a phone call,” said Harrison.

“It’s not that you can’t,” Julia retorted. “The problem is that you won’t.”

He gestured to the love seat. “We need to talk.”

Once again, she wondered how much defiance she should show. She hated to give him his way. Then again, refusing to cooperate might simply slow down her release.

She sat, glancing at the food but not giving in to temptation on that front.

Harrison took one of the armchairs opposite.

“Starving yourself won’t improve the situation,” he pointed out.

“It’ll give me emotional satisfaction,” she told him honestly.

“In the short term, maybe. But if you’re planning to fight or escape, or plot against me in any way, doesn’t it make more sense to keep up your strength?”

It annoyed her that he was right. “You’re expecting me to escape?”

He chuckled. “No. I’m expecting you to try.”

Of course he didn’t doubt he’d prevail. He was a member of the privileged class, after all.

“Well, I expected you to quickly discover that I am who I say I am, and let me go. Did you even check me out? Did you call Equine Earth Magazine?”