by Nicole Fox
Charlotte glances back at the doorway that Evie ran through, concern etched across her brow.
But when she turns back to Dean Whitford, she’s purely apologetic.
When we’d first arrived, she’d been a fish out of water.
How had that changed in a matter of hours?
“I’m less concerned about myself,” she tells him after he’s bought her lie hook, line, and sinker. “And more concerned about Evie. She’s a sensitive child.”
“I see that.” The man nods sagely. “I noticed she seemed the most engaged when we were touring the grounds.”
Charlotte nods. “She’s a little explorer. She loves nature and animals. She’s especially interested in Australian wildlife at the moment, so I’ve been making flash cards with her.”
Whitford’s head tilts to the side. “That’s marvelous, Mrs. Mazzeo,” he says. “It’s wonderful to see a mother so involved in her child’s interests.”
Charlotte smiles. “I’m her parent,” she says, and I know she’s choosing the word deliberately. “I would never dream of palming off my duties on a nanny. It’s my most important responsibility to get to know my own child.”
She glances at me, a pointed smile playing across her plump pink lips.
I don’t miss the not-so-subtle barb.
Unable to rebut, I reach out and take her hand again. She stiffens slightly, but she’s forced to allow the contact.
Her hand is limp in mine, but I squeeze hard and smile back at her.
“Charlotte is a wonderful mother,” I say. “Who needs a nanny when I’ve got her?”
“Indeed!” Whitford claps his hands together approvingly. “Well, I must say, your family would be a wonderful addition to Staffordshire Prep.”
“I certainly hope so. Thank you so much for your time, sir,” I say, shaking his hand.
He shows us the door and we head out of his office to find Evie sitting on a chair next to the receptionist’s table. She’s looking down, clasping her hands together nervously.
Charlotte seizes the opportunity and shakes off my grasp. She walks over to Evie and squats down in front of her.
“Hey, you,” she says softly. “You okay?”
Evie mumbles something that I can’t hear, and I watch Charlotte place a kiss on the little girl’s forehead.
“We can fill Paulie in on everything when we get back to the compound,” Charlotte whispers.
Irrational anger burns through me—who the fuck is Paulie?—before I realize, a second too late, that Paulie is the damn platypus toy Evie carries with her everywhere.
The jealousy recedes. It leaves a sickly feeling in its wake.
She stands back up and takes Evie’s hand. The kid carefully avoids my eyes.
I wish I could give her even half the warmth that comes so naturally to Charlotte.
“We hope to see you here again soon, Evie,” Whitford says as he escorts us out.
No reply.
In the absence of any reaction from Evie, he just nods with understanding and walks us back to our vehicle.
“There is a parents’ council, Mrs. Mazzeo,” he tells Charlotte. “You’d be a welcome addition. We need some young blood.”
She smiles tightly and nods, but I can see how desperately she loathes that idea already.
I suppress a smirk and open the back door of the Rolls Royce for Charlotte and Evie to get inside. I shut the door on their relieved faces and turn back to the white-haired man.
“Dean Whitford,” I say, “thank you for the tour. I’ll be in touch.”
“It was my pleasure, Mr. Mazzeo,” he says. “You have a marvelous family. And if I may be so bold, your wife is an absolute gem.”
“She is certainly that,” I agree.
I shake his hand, then I get into the car and we pull out into the long driveway that leads back towards the imposing iron gates.
Evie is sitting pressed up against Charlotte, with her head resting against Charlotte’s shoulder.
It’s hard to look away from the two of them.
Especially when Charlotte decides she’s had enough of her updo, and starts pulling out the pins that’s holding the bun together.
Her dark hair falls free.
Instantly, I feel the animalistic urge to grab her by it and yank her towards me.
She’s lucky that I’ve spent my whole fucking life controlling my baser urges.
“What?” Charlotte demands when she sees me staring.
And just like that, the sophistication of her role falls apart with that one, pointedly barbed word.
“You did well in there,” I tell her.
It’s clear that’s not what she expected to hear from me.
“Oh.”
“Your excuse was inspired. And your delivery sold it,” I continue.
Her eyes narrow, smelling a rat. “Why does it feel like you’re leading somewhere with this?” she asks accusingly.
I shrug. “It takes practice to think on your feet like that,” I say. “Deception is a skill, too.”
“Is this your way of thanking me?” she demands. “Because it could use some work.”
“Am I wrong?” I press.
“I grew up in a trailer park with a hot mess for a mother,” she says curtly. “If you didn’t think on your feet, you didn’t survive.”
I raise my eyebrows.
Not because of what she’d just told me.
But because she’d told me anything personal at all.
“A trailer park?” I echo, because despite myself, I’m actually curious.
She throws me a sharp glance over Evie’s head.
“Big shocker, right?” she replies sarcastically. “Classy girl like me with such humble beginnings?”
“Where’s your mother now?”
I see her body stiffen instantly and her jaw tightens. She seems to be thinking.
When she speaks again, her voice is soft and low. Still guarded, but with a hint of openness to it.
Or the possibility of openness, at least.
“I’ll tell you,” she says after a long pause, “if you tell me something about your past.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Not going to happen.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I thought so.”
Which effectively ends the conversation before it’s even started.
I have no choice but to swallow my questions.
But I’m not worried. I can be patient. Especially when I know I’ll get my way in the end.
I always do.
Charlotte can remain as closed off and tight-lipped as she wants, but I’ll break her down slowly. I’ll chip away at her walls until I have all her secrets.
There’ll be nowhere left for her to hide.
“Evie,” Charlotte says softly, after a long silence. “You okay, kiddo?”
I can’t see the child’s face, but I see her head tilt up towards Charlotte.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asks.
“I was wondering…”
Evie’s voice is small, and I can tell she’s doing her best not to be overheard.
The Rolls is big, but not that big.
“Yeah?” Charlotte encourages.
“I was wondering when my mommy’s gonna come back for me,” she says.
Charlotte goes still for a moment. Then she shoots me a glance.
“Um… I’m sure your mommy’s thinking of you all the time.”
“But when will I see her again?” Evie persists.
Clearly, the visit to Staffordshire has confused the hell out of the kid.
“I’m sorry, Evie,” Charlotte admits in the end. “I don’t know the answer to that.”
Evie’s lip starts to tremble.
The silence turns prickly.
I can sense it, and Charlotte can, too. Before the meltdown arrives, she intervenes as smoothly as she did with Whitford.
“Hey, how about when we get back to the compound, we make some brownies?” Charlotte suggests, trying to distract Ev
ie.
“Yeah!” Evie nods enthusiastically. “And Paulie can help us.”
“Great idea.”
And just like that, my daughter snuggles into Charlotte’s arms.
Finding something there that I don’t know how to give her.
The moment we get back to the compound, Evie and Charlotte clamber out of the car. Lorenzo is already at the entrance, waiting for them.
I expect them to disappear into the house together, but at the last moment, Charlotte stops.
“Evie, why don’t you hang out with Enzo for a few minutes?” she says. “I need to talk to Lucio. I won’t be long.”
“And then we can make brownies?” Evie checks.
“Then we can make brownies,” Charlotte promises.
The chauffeur gets out of the car and hands me the keys before he walks back over to my garage, just as Charlotte heads towards me.
It’s distracting how snug that fucking dress is on her hourglass figure. Her hips roll subtly as she closes the distance between us.
Her dark hair spills over her shoulders.
But it’s her blue eyes that capture my attention the most.
They look like she’s on a mission.
“Something you want to discuss with me?” I ask impatiently. “I have a meeting I need to get to.”
“Your meeting can wait a few minutes,” she snaps.
She’s all high heels and fire. It’s hard to confine her down to the role of an employee—much less a prisoner—when she’s looking at me like an equal.
I clench my jaw and prepare for whatever the fuck is coming next.
“Where is her mother?” she demands.
“That’s not your concern.”
“You asshole, Evie is your concern,” she hisses at me. “She’s a six-year-old girl who wants her mother. She deserves to know where she is.”
I stare her down. “Go back inside. Now.”
“No,” she retorts, matching my tone. “Not until you tell me what you’ve done with Evie’s mother.”
I frown.
Is that what this is about?
She thinks I have something to do with Sonya’s disappearance?
I don’t betray my emotions. “I’m not going to repeat myself again.”
“Fuck you then!” she explodes. “You owe me answers—”
She’s so close that it takes absolutely no effort to grab her. My hands come down on either side of her arms, and she gasps with shock.
I swing her around and press her up against the side of the car, using my body to pin her to it.
I’m already fucking hard.
“What the…? Get off!” Charlotte yelps.
She’s trying to struggle out of my grasp, but she doesn’t stand a chance.
I’m far bigger than her.
Far stronger.
Far more dangerous.
The most she can do is glare at me. But her anger has lost its edge. The confidence has been replaced with fear.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with?” I demand in a voice so low that I expect she’ll hear it in her sleep when all is quiet.
I can feel her body tremble. She’s fighting to maintain her composure, but I can taste her uncertainty.
She doesn’t know what I will do next.
I’m an inferno waiting to erupt.
And she’s just stoked the fire.
“What I do is none of your business,” I whisper to her in a tone that makes her body cringe with every syllable. “I don’t owe you a fucking thing. For as long as you’re under this roof, you are my fucking property.”
I grab her jaw with one hand and jerk it up to meet my gaze.
“What is my name?” I demand.
Her eyes go wide as her body shudders.
That doesn’t help my erection, but I have no choice but to ignore my body’s desires.
“What. Is. My. Fucking. Name?” I ask again, thrusting my weight onto her.
“Lucio Mazzeo,” she murmurs.
“And who am I?”
She shakes her head. “I… you’re… you’re a monster,” she says, defiant even in helplessness.
I smile. “Correct,” I say, to her surprise. “And who do you belong to?”
Her blue eyes look like they’re chipping into splinters of ice. The stubborn set of her jaw becomes more pronounced.
She refuses to answer.
Just shakes her head.
I won’t accept that.
I press down on top of her, and the friction of my cock between her thighs gives me perhaps two seconds of relief before the hunger surges again.
“Answer me.”
“Stop,” she begs. “Please…”
I can stop. I want to.
But power is a fragile thing.
And I can’t afford to trip before the finish line.
“Answer me,” I repeat dangerously, my fingers tightening around her jaw. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “I belong to you.”
I’ve forced the answer out of her. There’s not an ounce of sincerity in her voice. And so it falls flat between us.
Lust courses through my body, fully aware that I’m no closer to possessing her than I was moments ago.
But it’s a start.
“That’s right,” I nod, staring directly into the loathing in her eyes. “Don’t you fucking forget it.”
Then I pull her off my car and push her to the side.
I get into the car and rev the engine. I floor it for the compound gates.
The plan is not to so much as glance over my shoulder.
And I don’t.
But as I drive away, I can’t help but take the tiniest glimpse at my rearview mirror.
I see her lone silhouette, standing on the drive where I’ve left her.
Her posture is not the broken slump I expected.
It’s something else. Something I recognize.
The stance of someone gearing up for war.
14
Charlotte
Three Days Later
I tell myself that I’m watching Lucio because it’s my job now.
That I’m only paying attention because I have to.
That I’m sparring with him every chance I get because my life itself depends on the information I collect.
I tell myself that those are the reasons I think of him at night. And in the shower. And in the quiet moments when I’m playing with Evie in the garden.
But I know damn well it’s far more than that. Far different than that.
Because spying for the Polish doesn’t explain why the memory of Lucio Mazzeo pushing me up against his Rolls Royce is still seared into my mind.
Or why that memory leads me through a particularly intense session of touching myself at midnight and biting the pillow to keep from waking his daughter with my moans.
I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life, thinking about his deep gray eyes and the way his lips moved as he asserted his dominance over me.
Only when the orgasm has finally receded—leaving me trembling and exhausted in its wake—can I return to the underlying question here.
The same question plagues me the next day, and the day after…
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’m no closer to answering it than I was when I first arrived at this godforsaken mansion.
“Charlotte!” Evie runs towards me, a huge grin etched across her face.
It’s a bright morning, warm and clear.
Lucio hasn’t been seen in almost three days.
I’m not upset about that. At least, I don’t think I am.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, grateful for the distraction. “What’s up?”
“There’s a fountain on that side of the garden,” she says excitedly. “Can we go?”
“Sure thing.”
I push off from my position underneath the shady oak I’d chosen and follow Evie to the next annex of the ridiculously huge gard
en.
She scurries ahead of me, and she’s already counting insects by the fountain when I walk into the little clearing, surrounded by an assortment of flowering bushes.
Pink and green and violet petals flourish around us like something from a painting.
A second later, I hear heavy footsteps come up behind me.
I freeze for a moment, heart racing.
But it’s not him.
“Well, if it isn’t Enzo,” I drawl when I realize who’s approaching. “Imagine seeing you here.”
“This is farther than the two of you usually go,” he grumbles.
“We’re exploring the garden,” I explain. “Evie just discovered the fountain.”
He sighs. “Why the hell can’t she have been an indoor kid?”
I smirk. If we stay indoors, Enzo isn’t required to shadow our every move. Which is clearly the least favorite part of his job.
I’m not as bothered by that as I’d been in the beginning.
As a matter of fact, the crabby bugger has actually grown on me, much to my surprise.
“Do you have any children, Enzo?” I ask.
He turns to me, clearly startled by the personal question.
“I, um… Yeah. I do.”
He has the kind of features that make it hard to place his age. He’s definitely somewhere in his forties. But it’s hard to tell.
“How many?”
He looks slightly uncomfortable. As though he’s not sure if he’s allowed to talk to me at all.
“Oh, come on,” I prod. “Is there some rule against fraternizing with the help?”
He gives me an appraising smile.
“Because I’ve got news for you,” I continue. “You fall under that category, too, buddy.”
“Still a couple of rungs above you,” he fires back with a subtle grin playing at the corner of his lips.
“Damn. That’s what I’m talking about. The claws coming out.”
He smirks. “I’ve got two daughters, to answer your question”
“A girl-dad,” I say. “I should’ve guessed. How old are they?”
“Luna’s seventeen, and Teresa’s fifteen.”
I don’t miss the note of pride. It sticks out on his normally grumpy demeanor like a sore thumb.
But in a good way, if that makes any sense.
“Wow, two teenage girls to boot,” I laugh. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
