“Behind the most beautiful eyes,
lay secrets deeper and darker than the mysterious sea.”
—YLD
Chewing my cheek, I walk alongside Adam. His steps are brisk, and I’d be falling behind if it weren’t for his hand on my waist, guiding my pace.
I can’t stop thinking about his conversation with Felix. Encrypted files. Tapping someone’s lines.Peeling his fucking skin. A shiver runs through me every time Adam’s deep voice repeats that softly in my mind, and I wish it was cold instead of warm.
I’ve been letting my guard down. Thinking maybe my sister really did leave on her own accord and just needs some time alone. It’s not such a far stretch now that I’m here. Now that I’ve seen the women are willing. Now that I’ve experienced the strange and magnetic appeal of this world. Or as Aubrey called it:The Matthews Effect.
But the fact is: I still know next to nothing about these brothers.
About Adam.
I look sideways at him, openly staring. He doesn’t glance at me as he continues walking down the hall, but his fingers dig into my waist, like he feels me watching him. His warmth sinks through my dress and melts my skin. Facing forward again, I don’t think before I’m placing my palm over his hand and entwining my fingers in his. He stiffens but doesn’t move away.
When he opens the door to the basement and leads me down the stairs, my stomach tightens into a million knots. He’s never let me in this part of the house. I dart my eyes toward him, but it’s too dark to get a read.
He takes us to the second room. Lingering in the doorway, I release his hand and let him pass me. He flicks his gaze in my direction, but he doesn’t say anything or make me enter. Instead he moves toward an empty metal table near the column. His face is hard, but his posture is relaxed. Comfortable enough to suggest he’s down here often.
My feet are glued to the threshold.
Butterflies swirl in my stomach and my palms are clammy, which only confuses me more. I wish I knew if these reactions were from excitement or fear. It shouldn’t be the first one. Not when I know Frankie was here. What would she have done if she stumbled upon that tray? If she’d seen half the things I have?
Adam reaches under the table and pulls open a hidden compartment beneath. After removing a silver tray, he sets it on the table’s surface and closes the compartment.
Something twists inside my gut every time my eyes shift to him. I’ve shown him things no one else has seen. Offered him the darkest parts of me. It feels unnatural hiding anything from him now.
I fold my arms over my chest, glancing away. “Adam ...”
He looks over his shoulder and cocks a brow.
When I stay quiet, he turns back to the tray and adjusts the items lined on top. I can only see his side profile, and his back blocks most of the tray, but I don’t have to step closer to know what’s displayed in front of him.
“Is there something you want to say?” A corner of his lips twitches, but he stays focused on the task at hand—whatever that is exactly.
I close my eyes, willing the words on my mind to escape. Despite everything I’ve seen, it feels hurtful and bitter to ask him what I need to. I don’t know what it would do to him. If it would break some unspoken trust between us.
But then I think of Frankie, and I have to. Every second spent with Adam pulls me deeper into the addictive vortex between us, and Frankie slips further away.
A rattling sound snaps my eyes open. Adam is withdrawing a thick chain from the compartment below the table. A chain not unlike the one Raife used to tie me to the chandelier.
He drags it toward the column, his movements strong, full of purpose, and I clear my throat, finding my voice.
“Adam. Would you ever—have you ever—” I swallow.Why is this so hard?Opening my mouth again, I push the words off my tongue. “Have you or your brothers ever seriously hurt any of the secretaries?”
He halts, bent forward with the chain in his grip. He tilts his chin toward me, but not enough to meet my gaze.
“I mean, to the point lines are being crossed? To an extreme?” I know what Raife and Griff have done to me, the horrible way it’s made me feel, but I haven’t seen any of the other women here treated the same. At least not to the point they disliked what they were doing. Could the same be said for everyone, though?
The chain drops with athunk, then Adam is stalking toward me. He stops when he’s so close I have to lift my chin to see him. His narrowed gaze darts across my face, and my heart falters.
He cocks his head to one side, his eyes dropping to my scarf, and my bruises feel electric under his scrutiny. When he inches closer and dips his chin, my pulse picks up as our lips almost brush. I inhale his masculine scent like a shameless addict.
“You tell me, Emmy. Was Iextremeenough for you last night?”
This. This is my problem. I can’t think straight when I’m with him. He makes me never want to think straight again.
