When I take him down, will there be anything worth saving in myself? Each year, every minute I’m sucked into the EV culture, I make connections, garner loyalty, power. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t nights I basked in it. Let what this world offers curl around me like a heady smoke. It’s a hit, addictive in its own right. And?—
Her thick, voluminous russet curls, untamed and cascading past her shoulders like a burning sunset, flickers unapologetically in my mind. Now I’m looking at her—one of the girls—like the rest of the members. Differently. That’s the worst part. Instead of seeing a means to get revenge, I see?—
My intercom buzzes while my shirt is halfway on.
“Sir. She’s awake and …roaming.”
I raise my eyebrows at myself in the mirror and adjust my glasses. Roaming? It’s six fifteen in the morning. Most of the girls sleep until they need to leave or at least stay in the room with what I’m assuming is an out-of-sight, out-of-mind mentality. The corner of my mouth threatens to lift.Already testing boundaries.Bold or reckless? Maybe both.
Quickly, I do up the buttons on my gray shirt, drape my black tie around my neck, and fling open the door to rush out.
Urgency pounds through each step against the floor and down the stairs, but as I reach the bottom, my pace slows. I inhale a deep breath, the faint smell of lemon polish and warm linen hitting my nose. The unmistakable trace of my house cleaner starting her morning routine.
I roll my shoulders back, reining in the adrenalinecausing my pulse to thump. Walking past the dining room, I peek in—empty. I scan the living room. The oversized linen couch, still crisp and fresh with plush overstuffed cushions still puffy.
I search my damn home like I’m lost.
Then I spot her.
There’s a small alcove tucked off the kitchen. A narrow space with slim French doors that open not to a peaceful view of the lake, but to the most uninspired stretch of the property. It’s used by my private chef or the delivery staff hauling boxes of groceries in. But there she is, drenched in the morning sunrise surging in through the panes. The light soaks the curve of her pale shoulder beneath the loose fall of the blue robe. It hangs shy of her thigh, brushing against her bent knee as she leans into the doors, forehead pressed to the glass.
She seems to stare at nothing. Just the patchy grass that was trimmed two days ago. What is she doing?
I lean against the wall, letting the moment she’s unaware of me here stretch on. Her arms fold inward across her chest, her curls spilling down her back wild and uncontrolled. She heaves out a heavy sigh, but still gazes off into the grass.
What’s got her so occupied? The need to know frustrates me, and a growl emanates from somewhere deep in my chest.
The time to watch her undetected vanishes, and she whips around, tugging the robe closer to her chest as she hugs herself. Her clear blue eyes widen when she sees me, gaze dropping over my suit and back up to meet my stare. Full rose-toned lips part, and she double blinks before her strong brows dip into a V.
There’s an intensity to her that disregards her soft, luminous skin.
“W-what are you doing?” she asks, voice soft yet carrying a raspy grit to it. I can’t help but wonder if it’s from the early morning or if it scratches like this all the time. I’d have noticed it last night, right?
She bites the inside of her cheek when I don’t answer, her fingers drumming on her cradled biceps.
“Right. Forgot. You don’t talk.” She glances back over her shoulder into the grass, lingering once more. Then she shakes her head and redirects it to me. “Seems convenient.”
I tilt my head.What is?
“The not-talking thing.”
I blink, half worried I’d asked out loud.
She doesn’t know how right she is.She thinks I can’t talk at all.Good. Let her.
I could tell her otherwise, but I don’t. Instead, I study her. The way her mouth opens and closes, it’s as if she wants to say something more but hesitates. My eyes stay locked on hers, they’re trying to pull something from her she doesn’t want to give. The air is thick, and hell, I’m annoyed I don’t know what she was watching out the window.
Flashes of different expressions work across her face until she narrows her eyes at me, her glare wrinkling the skin at her temples. I wait for her to say something. Yell. Cry. Tell me I’m horrid for putting her through this.
Some of the women, if they ever see me, beg. They even try to bribe me on their knees, begging me to let them go.
What would Thea look like riled up and savage?
I roll my eyes. Why the hell do I care? I don’t. Damn it, I don’t.
“Ah, Mr. DuPont. Good morning. And Thea, how did you sleep?” Edmond rounds the corner with an obnoxious smile on his face, dressed in his butler’s uniform with a cup of coffee in his hand. He raises his brows at me, and I shrug, turning in time to witness Thea do the same.
“I slept better than I have in a week,” she says.
