We stand at the entryway, and when he smirks, I realize how our bodies gravitate toward each other, almost as if there’s a force bringing us together.
Declan smiles. “I’m fully aware of my need for control. I don’t know how else to be.” He pauses, then says, “Your chaos makes me want to tame you. It’s a good thing you told me not to kiss you. If you hadn’t, I would have bent you over my knee with your little dress turned up and your bottom red from spanking. You would drip cum on my fingers and beg me to fuck you.”
Wide-eyed, I stare up at him. No man has ever painted such a vivid picture in my mind or said such filthy things to me.
“You don’t want any of that, do you?” he asks.
I don’t? Um…“No.” I think that sounded too much like a question.
Declan smirks. Hands in his pockets, he jogs down the steps and throws over his shoulder, “I hope your shower is nice and warm. Dinner is at eight.”
Chapter 19
It depends on the man
Dina
The long bath, with top-notch bubbles and rubs and scrubs inside Crossbow’s private bathroom, was so nice that I barely dragged my ass out of it. I managed to put on a robe and wrap my hair in a towel before I sank into the mattress.
I wake up under a comforter so comfortable, I don’t think even five-star hotels would have it. The bedding smells like fresh lavender and sage. Massio Crossbow slept like a king.
A woman’s laughter makes me get up and walk out of the bedroom to peek downstairs. Since the wall is all glass and the sheer white curtains are pulled back, I can see outside. A tall, leggy brunette dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt is speaking with one of the twins. From this distance, I can’t tell which brother she’s talking to.
I’m not sure why a woman would be here this early in the morning. It’s just supposed to be us. Declan said no staff. Do they have a sister? Connor’s girlfriend?
They sit down at the metal table, where breakfast is already laid out. She props her feet on the chair opposite her. I note she’s wearing leather boots. Hm.
I’m painfully aware that my legs are not long and my hair is not halfway down my back, but I lost at least ten pounds from the days they kept me starving at the station. Which is the only positive thing I can say about the past few days.
As I return to the bathroom, my reflection in the mirror scares me. My face. Good Lord. I lean over the counter and touch the swelling under my eyes. It’s purple and blue from the nosebleed. I’m grateful the cop didn’t break my nose.
I wish I had some sunglasses. Maybe there are some in the closet.
I drag my suitcase into the closet, which contains mainly a man’s wardrobe behind glass doors. It’s not enough that it’s a walk-in closet the size of some people’s whole apartment, but the clothing is protected from dust by the glass doors.
Massio Crossbow liked to wear colorful suits. People called him the Clown. Not to his face, of course, even though he would wear clown shoes and a plastic red nose. I spot several pairs of yellow clown shoes behind the glass.
I search for sunglasses.
I don’t find any, but I do find women’s dresses. A wedding dress too. I think it’s Anabela’s. I open the glass, then close it, thinking better of it. I’m not going to snoop. I feel bad going through her things. They’re family heirlooms at this point, and maybe her sons would want them untouched. In fact, I recall Declan saying that Connor would take care of her clothes.
I wear my olive-green dress and step out of the bedroom, where I almost run into a man carrying a ladder.
“Excuse me,” he says.
“No, excuse me,” I tell him, because I almost ran into him, not the other way around. He climbs the ladder to reachsomething in the corner of the hallway. I think he’s putting in cameras.
As I descend the steps, I see that more workers are busy throughout the house, and some pass me as they enter the bedroom. Is he putting cameras in there? I better sleep in that panic room he suggested, because there is no way I can sleep in a room that’s being monitored. That’s creepy.
Outside, the brunette stands when I join them. She’s pretty, maybe my age, with a beautiful face and physique. She extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Slada.”
“Dina. Nice to meet you.”
“Slada is my friend,” Declan says. “We work together.”
A friend. And they work together. Great.
Breakfast is on the table, and Declan remains standing. “Sugar? Cream?” He picks up the coffeepot.
