Page 80 of Broken Vows

He exhales sharply through his nose. “Yeah, I just don’t like being here.”

A long moment passes, when I press my hand to his leg. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It means a lot that you’d let me see this part of you.”

We step out and Theo places a hand on my lower back as we walk up the stairs. Before we reach the cathedral-sized double doors, a smiling woman in a housekeeping outfit opens them and waves us in. “Dr. Astor, welcome home. Please come in.”

The door opens to an expansive mahogany and goldaccented open space, a grand double staircase, and twelve-feet-tall Italian paintings. It’s beautiful, but in the way a cold museum is beautiful. My mom’s studio apartment feels homier than this place.

Theo nods at the housekeeper, offering her a small smile, but otherwise stays silent. I take another step inside and hold back a low whistle. “I can’t believe you grew up here,” I say. “How the hell did you not get lost as a kid?”

“You get used to it, I guess,” he says as he escorts me further into the home. “There’s a family wing where we mostly stayed. A lot of the house is for entertaining and guests. I wasn’t even allowed into some of the areas until I was older.”

Although he says this matter-of-factly—and maybe this is normal for people in this socioeconomic class—my heart dips. Never once did my mother make me feel unwelcome in our own home.

With every step, his face grows sterner, his eyes darken, his body tightens. Normally, I’d reach for a joke, a touch, anything to ease the weight settling between us. But tonight, I can’t.

By the time we reach the top of the stairs, his jaw is clenched, and he hasn’t said a single word.

I ask him where the bathroom is. He jerks his chin down the hall, offering nothing more than a grunt. When I come back out, he’s gone.

I try to find him, peering into a den-like space, sitting rooms, and then landing on a cozy reading room. “Theo?” I call.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. What the hell? My heartbeat ticks higher as I pass a bedroom, an indoor theater outfitted with a dozen leather recliners and a screen that rivals an Imax, then another bedroom. But still no sign of him.

It’s not like he just disappeared.

Did he duck into one of the kitchens?

“Theo?” I repeat and again I’m met with silence. The house might be well lit, but it’s still eerie as fuck, and a shiver runs through my body.

I turn another corner when hands seize me. A scream claws up my throat, only to be smothered by a palm wrapped tightly around my mouth. My brain barely registers what’s happening as I’m picked up, dragged into a dark, poorly lit room, the door slamming shut behind us.

“Let me go!” The words come out panicked, but thankfully the hands are gone. I stumble back, clutching my chest, my heart hammering violently as I put as much distance between me and this person as I can. The room spins. My lungs burn.

Then my eyes adjust and relief crashes through me.

Theo.

“Theo! What the fuck are you doing?” I breathe, still wired.

His head moves, as if assessing me like a predator and I’m his prey, and then stalks towards me with measured intent, like he knows exactly how cornered I am—and exactly how much I don’t want him to stop.

“I’m kidnapping you,” he says calmly. “Obviously.”

A shiver runs through me. My body reacts before my brain can catch up—heat blooming, pulse stuttering. The way he looks at me, like I’m something he’s claimed, makes my knees buckle.

I glance past him, taking in the room for the first time. I can just about make out a wooden-framed canopy bed, trophies lining a shelf, a long black desk. “Holy shit… is this your bedroom?”

He’s behind me before I can ask another question. A hand tangles in my hair, the other possessively cupping my breast. I gasp at the sharp, jarring movement, and the way his mouth feels at my ear, his voice low and measured. “Rules of captivity,” he says, pausing long enough to let the words settle. “You do exactly what I say.”

My breath catches.

“Now,” he murmurs, closer still, “lift up your dress.”

I lean back into him and push my ass into his rock-hard, waiting cock. “Are you… sure…” I swallow. “We’re in your parents’ house…” His fingers slide across my nipple, and he pinches so hard that a bolt of heat jolts through me like lightning.

“I was very clear about the rules.”

My shaky fingers lift the fabric, so it skims just above the crease of my butt cheeks.