“Not really,” I disagreed. I revved the engine. I needed to get back. Now. Pronto. There weren’t that many hours left before the Count woke up, and I had to get the cameras installed today if I had a prayer of making the deadline. “Gotta go, Don. I’m pressed for time.”
“Those who don’t listen pay a price,” he said. He straightened, stretched, and then moved to the back of my car, saying, “We wouldn’t want Jeremy to pay now, would we?”
I rolled the window down the rest of the way and leaned out. “Keep Jeremy out of this. You know the deal.”
He bent over as if inspecting my rear wheel. I saw the flash, but I didn’t understand until he turned, and I saw the knife in his hand.
“What the—”
I shot out of the car, shocked.
My tire. My freaking tire. He’d sliced it.
He grabbed my arm and drew me up close. “Wouldn’t want that to be Jeremy now, would we?”
I didn’t really need to hear that. I already knew what was at stake. I didn’t need the mental images he was putting into my head. I replaced them with visions of my own, of Don’s head on a silver platter.
Then, he let me go and stalked away.
At first, I couldn’t move. I just leaned against the car to keep my knees from buckling.
Then, the sight of the flat tire brought me back to reality and anger chased out the fear.
I didn’t have time for this. Or money. Or a god damned spare.
Why? Why?
Just what had I done to the universe to deserve this? I mean, once you’ve decided to get on the straight and narrow, that’s when all the real problems and roadblocks spring in your way. Why did it have to be so damn hard? I was just trying to give Jeremy a better life. Surely, the universe could freaking respect that and just help out a little instead of putting Don constantly in my way?
With mounting fury, I drove my car two blocks to the tire store. Yeah, I know you’re not supposed to drive on a flat, especially this flat of a flat, but what choice did I have?
“I need a tire patched,” I told the guy that approached me with a well-practiced customer service smile on his freckled face.
He took one look at my tire and the smile vanished. “Sorry, lady, but this isn't a patch job. You need a new tire. Which means four new ones if you want the tread to wear right."
My irritation grew to epic levels. I was losing precious time. As it was, I’d be lucky to squeeze in a few minutes to hide the camera before the Count was out and about.
“Fine.”
As I waited, I prepped for my mission, removing the camera packaging and tossing it in the trash so I wouldn’t accidentally leave any evidence around.
Finally, four new tires later, I was racing back to the Count’s house, fingers crossed my speed wouldn’t attract any cops. This time, the universe showed a little pity, and I arrived back at the mansion with no cop the wiser.
Key and cameras in hand, I ran into the mansion and to the Count's office. According to my calculations, I had about fifteen minutes to set up and hide my surveillance system. I couldn’t risk waiting another day. I was already down to six.
The key fit the lock perfectly and with a click, I was inside. The room was dark and as he didn't have any conventional lighting in his office--or even a freaking window--I had to let my eyes adjust until I could see well enough to place the cameras. It was just a matter of picking out which bookshelves provided the best angles of the safe.
I tucked the key into my shoe so I wouldn’t accidentally leave it somewhere obvious, and then found hiding places for the first two cameras easily enough. I regretted my purchase of the pen version. It stuck out like a sore thumb and drew attention, practically advertising “look here.”
I’d just removed it from the fourth location when the door to the study opened.
It was the Count.
8
The Count stood in the doorway with his dark eyes riveted on mine. “What are you doing in here?”
“Oh, just getting an early start to the cleaning,” I squeaked and licked my dry lips.
His eyes flicked down to my mouth. A muscle tensed on his lean jaw. “This room is off limits.”
“Oh?” I feigned surprise. “The door was open.” Technically, not a lie. It was open…after I’d unlocked it.
He approached me slowly, like a predator hunting prey. “Do you remember the rules?” he whispered, towering over me. “Do not lie?”
“Yep. Rule number one, isn’t it?” I smiled.
He loomed closer, and then closer still until I could feel his breath on my face, and so help me, in spite of what I’d been in the midst of doing, all I could think about was his kiss. God, would he please kiss me again?
“I could command you to tell me the truth,” he said, his voice so compelling and his eyes pulling me in, inviting me to drown in the darkness of his soul.
I wanted him. I wanted nothing but him. I’d tell him anything he asked, as long as I could have him. Yet, even as I opened my mouth to spill out my innermost thoughts, he stepped back.
“But I won’t,” he said, sounding distant again.
The urge to tell my secrets faded. I swallowed, shocked how close I’d come. What the hell had happened to me? How could I be so willing to give up Jeremy's future for a quick lay?
I blinked, trying to find my voice. "Do you want me to finish cleaning in here?" I asked, pocketing the pen that I never did find a place for. The other cameras would have to work. I prayed to whatever gods might still be listening to me that he wouldn't find them and catch on to my plans. I'd be dead. No lie.
"Your services are not needed in here," he said, clearly dismissing me with his tone.
With jangling nerves I feared he could hear, I walked to the door, and as I stepped out into the hall, his voice stopped me.
"How are you feeling?"
It wasn't the question I was expecting. I turned to face him. "Better than I deserve," I said honestly.
He approached, his face unreadable and didn’t stop until he came within inches of me. "You deserve so much more than you realize," he said softly, his eyes piercing my very soul as he brushed a lock of hair from my face. "Certainly, more than you've been given."
I sucked in a breath, not trusting myself to speak. He didn't know me. Didn't know what I'd done. What I'd lived through. What I was in the process of doing to him.
Truthfully, I was too jaded to judge who deserved what. But then, how could anyone know the weight of a person's soul? Mine or anyone else's?
"What darkness shadows your heart?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if it was rhetorical or not, but either way I didn't know how to answer.
"I could ask the same of you," I said, my voice catching on raw emotion.
"I've already shared with you my demons," he said, his lips inches from mine.
"I don't think those are all the demons you harbor," I responded, desperate for the distance between us to disappear, but too scared to make it happen.
He inched closer, until our breath mingled. "It would take a lifetime to confess all my demons," he whispered, and I felt the kindred nature of his soul.
I couldn't fathom his demons, but I knew my own were terrifying enough, and I knew I was looking into the eyes of someone who had seen worse. Someone who had even done worse.
That should have terrified me, but instead it gave me comfort. Here was a man who would not be scared by the depths of my own darkness.
And I was about to betray him.
Shit.
I stepped back, catching my breath. "I, uh, should finish up the rest of the house before it gets too late."
I left quickly, feeling his eyes burning holes through me as I did.
That night the Count escorted another woman into his bedroom, and raw, unfettered jealousy poisoned me every minute she was with him. But in a plot twist I didn't see coming, she left shortly after she arrived, looking more than a little disappointed. She obviously didn't see that coming either
, and by her scowl, I'd say she also didn't come. Poor girl. Really, I felt so bad for her.
When the Count came down to the kitchen just as I’d finished my shift, I paused and eyed him. "Rough night?" I asked.
He studied me a moment before replying, "My appetites seem to be changing."
My body buzzed with energy at that. Could it be our kiss distracted him as much as it had me? Dared I hope I played through his mind as much as he did mine?
But to what end?
So I could betray him in just a few days?
Still, I couldn't pull away from his gaze as he stood and walked over to me, stopping just shy of full body contact. He cupped my face and tilted his head. "Tell me, Kassandra, do you think about that kiss?"
I blinked, then nodded once, briefly. No point even trying to lie, not about that. The truth was written all over my face. I tried to contain my emotions and hold myself together, but already, my legs were turning to Jell-O, so my fortitude wouldn’t last long.
The Count lowered his head and covered my mouth with his as one hand cupped my head and the other tugged at my hips to pull me close against him.
With a moan, I parted my lips, allowing his tongue to sweep inside and dance circles with mine. He tasted of fire, of mystery and power. I shivered as he devoured me with a dark mastery that sang to some deep part of me, and when his teeth grazed my lower lip, I arched against him. I needed more this time, so much more.
His fingers trailed down my cheek, over my neck, and further still, creating a path of burning need until he reached my breast. I gasped into his mouth as his thumb grazed my nipple through my shirt. Yes. More. I leaned into him, my body thirsting so desperately to feel a release with his.
Too soon, he pulled away, leaving my lips cold and my body melting.
With a resigned expression, he turned. "I will spend the evening in my quarters. Get some rest."
My mouth dropped open as he vanished through the kitchen door.
What. The. Hell?
Oh, this man was so damn infuriating. Teasing me, bringing me to the edge of everything and then just leaving me there alone? Just what kind of twisted game was this?
No, damnit. He’d satisfied an entire parade of women before me. Why leave me hanging? What did they have that I didn’t? Well, probably a lot, but I refused to go there right now. Regardless of who had what, he couldn’t treat me like this.
I didn’t realize I’d followed him up the stairs until I stood at the very top and saw him at the end of the darkened hall, his hand on the knob of his bedroom door.
I didn’t say anything. God, I wanted to. I wanted to shout at him, demand an explanation, demand that he finish what he’d started, but before I could even begin to organize the thoughts jumbling in my head, he stood before me.
Like he was just there, mere inches away. He'd just been at the edge of the hallway literally a blink ago. How? Sure, it was dark, but—
“Why are you here?" he queried, his eyes glittering despite the dim lighting.
“You can’t just… you can’t just leave me like that,” I blurted.
A glint of amusement lit his eyes. “Pray tell, what should I have done?”
Take me on the kitchen table would have been nice. Or against the refrigerator. Or—
He stepped toward me then and backed me against the wall.
My breath hitched.
“Perhaps…” he rumbled, dragging the word out so long I could feel his chest vibrate. “Perhaps, I should have touched you more?”
Hell, yes. It was cruel to leave a girl on the edge like that. Especially with the gifts he obviously possessed. Yet still, under the spell of his gaze, I found myself rendered mute.
It didn’t matter. His hands slid over me once again, outlining the contour of my hips as I lifted my mouth to meet his.
His kiss was different this time. Wilder. Darker. A kiss that shared not only pleasure but volumes of unspoken pain. I felt his neediness, his desire to belong, his wants, his despair, his loneliness. I’d seen glimpses of the darkness in him before, but this time, his kiss left no doubt. In him lived a void that matched mine.
I kissed him back, letting his lips pull from me, for the first time in my life, my own brand of pleasured pain. My naked true self.
Heat sparked, heralding the pleasure to come, but this time, we’d connected on a different level. This time, I needed more than his kiss. His lips tormented me. I had to have him inside me.
As if he’d read my thoughts, his hand skimmed over my hip and up. Magically, my jeans unbuttoned—or had I done that myself?—and then, who cared how, his hands were under the waistband and hot against my flesh.
As his fingers slipped slowly down, he dropped his mouth against my neck to suck the tender flesh.
I shivered. I was so very wet. So ready. Wanting him to forgo the teasing and really touch me, I pushed up against him. Again, he read my thoughts, but then, with the way my body writhed in need, it wasn’t a particularly hard thought to read. Still, I got what I wanted. At last. His fingers teased me, circling, pinching me into a frenzy until finally, Oh Blessed Heaven, he drove them inside me at last.
I climaxed at once, and as the intense storm of waves rippled through me, I collapsed against him. And just when I thought it was over, he nipped my neck and pushed his fingers deeper inside me and I came again.
I could hardly stand as waves of pleasures crashed into me. It felt as if every bone in my body had turned to liquid.
I looked up to see him watching me intensely.
“Like an instrument,” he whispered, his fingers still teasing me.
I swallowed. If he kept playing with me like that, I’d come again. I wasn’t sure I could so quickly, without kicking off a migraine, anyway.
As before, he seemed unusually attuned to my inner thoughts, and with a last teasing movement of his fingers, he pulled out, but left me feeling branded by his touch, nonetheless.
He shifted. I could feel his hardness pressed against me, but when I reached for him, he drew back.
The next instant, he was gone, and at the same moment, his bedroom door clicked shut.
What the—
How could anyone move so fast? But then, maybe it was all a trick of the darkness. I braced myself against the wall, breathing heavily and unable to believe I’d just let the Count finger me.
What was I doing? He was my boss, not some guy I met at a bar and could forget about later. We'd definitely blurred the lines. And I still didn't even know his actual name. I winced. I’d thought looking him in the eye after a kiss was bad. Tomorrow would be much worse.
I returned to my room, a little puzzled as to why he hadn’t let me touch him. He’d wanted me. I’d felt the evidence, hard and real. With someone else, I might have even felt a little rejected at the speed with which he’d run off, but he was different.
I didn't feel stung by the rejection so much as perplexed by his resistance to what was growing between us. Was it my status as his employee that kept him at arm's length… most of the time at least? Or was there something else going on?
My body buzzed with the energy of our encounter, but I didn't feel satisfied from it. Not the way I expected. I’d thought this would offer me relief, but now, I wanted the real thing. Small wonder the parade of women had rolled with him in bed all night.
Just what would that feel like?
I padded to my mirror and stared at my reflection as I ran my fingers over the trail he’d created with his mouth.
I saw it then. A small mark. A hickey? I peered closer. It wasn’t the classical hickey, but just two little marks, tiny ones that barely broke the skin and positioned far apart, like a snake bite.
Or vampire. Ha!
Wanting to relieve every moment of the encounter, I dropped onto my bed, praying I’d dream of him all night.
I did dream all night, but not of the Count. This time, I had nightmares of Don and teddy bear cams that followed me around with glowing eyes recording and judging my
every crime. I woke up with a sour taste in my mouth, as if even in my dreams I’d wanted to vomit.
I swung my legs out of bed, feeling like shit for so many reasons. Just who was I? The kind of girl who could make out with the Count and then set the stage so Don could rob him blind? Didn’t that make me the whore my father accused me of being?
I stood in the shower for a long time, wanting the hot water to wash my problems down the drain, but wrinkled, pruned skin was the only thing it deigned to give me.
After dressing, I decided to check on Jeremy, so I got my phone out of the drawer and headed to what was becoming my favorite spot in the garden outside. I idly wondered what would happen if I used my phone in the house. How would the Count know? I had a gut feeling he would. Somehow, he would.
When my phone finally turned on, I saw three missed calls flashing and voicemails from Jeremy's school.
My heart jumped into my throat and my knees shook as I hit the callback button. They never called unless there was a problem. And I had enough of those already.
“Mr. Prichard’s office.”
“I’m calling about Jeremy. This is Kassandra, his sister.”
“Oh, right.” There was a pause. “He’s with the school nurse—”
“Nurse? What happened?” I interrupted.
Already, I was pulling my keys out of my pocket and heading to my car.
I hardly heard her reply, "There was a…conflict, an…incident. He…”
The tiny voice jabbered on, but I didn’t need to hear more.
I knew what ‘incident’ meant. It was code for ‘beaten by bullies.’
They’d beaten Jeremy.
Again.
9
Swollen eye. Bloodied nose. Maybe even a hairline-cracked rib. Urgent care discharged us with prescription-strength Advil and instructions to rest. I helped Jeremy into the car, not because he couldn’t walk. He could, slowly. But because it felt like I was protecting him, even though I was obviously way too late on the protection front. Still, he needed mothering, and though I was a poor substitute, I had to do what I could.
Wanted Box Set Page 7
