My heart suddenly decided it was running a marathon as it pounded in my chest while my feet were frozen in place.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whispered.
I spun around fast, feet already moving, when footsteps echoed from the stairs in front of me.
This cannot be real.
I turned around frantically, looking for a quick escape from the impeding nightmare, settling on making a beeline for the nearest door and slamming it shut behind me.
The sound of my heart was so loud I almost worried he might hear it.
And when a knock came from the other side of the door, my stomach dropped about a thousand feet.
“Is everything okay?” His voice sounded from the other side, soft—concerned. Nothing like I was used to hearing.
Ambrose.
My fucking boss.
The man who didn’t even crack a smile when people tried to flirt with him. Who enforced office policy like it was divine scripture.
“I am so fired,” I whispered, searching the room for any window, or hell, I would even have taken a creepy trap door. Butnothing. Not a single thing. Just an empty room with a piano. Great.
Okay, think Harper.
If I left, I probably wouldn’t have a job come Monday morning. If I stayed… well, I’d probably also be out of a job.
My hands quickly searched my pockets, fishing out my phone as I opened the app.
Conditions.
I have conditions.
A blindfold. And I won’t speak. I want to keep my privacy.
A moment passed.
Then the soft chime of a phone echoed from the hallway.
One second.
Then another.
As you wish, Flower.
Harper
Somehow, despite having the shovel taken away from me time and time again, I still found myself digging my own grave. Deeper and deeper with each day that passes.
“I promise,” Ambrose said, his voice a low, deliberate purr from the couch. The red blindfold over his eyes was tied with the precision of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. And somehow the thought of Ambroseknowinghis way around a knot sent a dangerous heat through my body. “I can’t see a thing. But if you want to stop, we stop. You’re in control,Flower.”
I knew it didn’t have to be a ‘sex thing’ and yet… would it be so terrible if it were?
My gaze slid down the expanse of his torso—his white shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose the carved stone of his chest. Grey muscles that clearly saw the gym every day. His white hair danced above his horns, a shaggy mess. Despite all his control, I always liked that his hair wasn’t perfect.
Ambrose was dangerous—beautifully,brutallydangerous. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to make you obey. The kind of man whose presence alone could unravel a woman.
And God help me; I wanted to unravel.
