by Jane Henry
She grabbed onto my arms. “Listen, Ryder. You have no idea. If he saw that you’d broken into our house—” Her voice rose in pitch as if she were on the verge of hysteria, until finally I grabbed her by the arms and gave her a firm shake.
“Stop!”
She blinked, but stopped, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. At least I had her attention.
“Now sit down.” I ordered. Years of experience as a Dom, and I knew how to take control. I pointed to a chair in the corner of the room.
“What are you going to—”
“Sit!” I hissed in case it was her father out there so he wouldn’t hear us. Thankfully, she obeyed. I took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to stay here. I’m going to see who that is. I’ll go slowly and carefully so whoever’s down there doesn’t see me, and then we’ll figure out plan B. Problem is, you say he’s supposed to be in Ontario, so I need to be sure there isn’t an intruder. Okay?”
She nodded wordlessly, her lips clamped between her teeth.
I pointed at her. “You. Stay. Here. Got it?”
She nodded again, and this time her eyes reflected something else, but I couldn’t quite figure out what.
“If he is here, he’ll go straight to his office. It’s his routine. He never veers, ever. It’s down on the first floor.”
I nodded, then left the room and padded along the hall, taking in every detail, looking for signs of movement or something out of place, but everything was quiet, and the sound had come from below us anyway. I moved stealthily to the top of the stairs and crouched down, looking through the rails, prepared to hide in the shadows if I saw movement, but I saw nothing at all.
Once I’d observed from the top of the stairs for a full minute, with no sign of anyone else below, I stalked down the stairs, staying as low as I could to avoid detection. I made my way back to the dining room but again, the entire room lay in stillness. I had to get to his office, where she said he’d be if he’d returned home, but the door was shut fast and when I looked under the door frame, it was dark. To the right of the study door was a little strip of windows, and everything was immersed in darkness.
I retraced my steps back to the kitchen, and it was then that I noticed something dark on the floor. As I drew closer, I realized it was only a vase, shattered, glass marbles scattered all around it, the silk flowers askew. Looking up above the vase, I noticed a window open, and an orange and striped tail slipping through the opening.
Mystery solved. I located a small broom and dustpan in a utility closet in the kitchen, swept up the broken glass, and piled it all in a paper bag. I would ask Rae what to do with the mess.
Satisfied that we were still alone in the house, I trotted back upstairs, taking them two at a time, looking around when I hit the top stair for one more final time to make sure I’d missed nothing. But all was still. When I entered the room where she waited, she still sat where I’d directed her to stay, her knees drawn up to her chin now, her long braid hanging to the side.
“Nothing down there. I found a broken vase, an open window, and a furry culprit.”
Her eyes crinkled around the edges as she smiled and lifted her chin off her knees. “It was Starburst?”
I shrugged, feeling the fatigue in my bones now, ready to get some sleep. “Is that the name of a cat with an orange-striped tail?”
“Yup. She loves to prowl around late at night, fancies herself some sort of guard kitty. Protects us from mice and other such dangerous rodents. She broke the vase?”
I nodded. “I cleaned it up a bit, but left the broken pieces for you to put away. Not sure if it was sentimental or something and worth trying to fix.”
She shook her head. “We don’t have much in the way of sentimental things here. It’s fine.” Unfolding herself from the chair, she stretched and yawned, her big brown eyes squinting shut, then she stretched her arms up over her head. “Thanks for checking, Ryder.”
“Sure.” I couldn’t help myself. My eyes roamed over her gorgeous curves as she stretched. “Thanks for being a good girl and obeying my instructions.”
Her gaze flitted away from mine for a moment while she sidled up a little closer to me. She turned back to me, her eyes alight with curiosity.
“So.” She cleared her throat. “What would you have done if I hadn’t?”
I shifted, hiding the sudden arousal that licked through me, my cock hardening at her low, husky question. It was odd, coming from a sheltered girl like her, but I knew what she was after.
“What’s that?” I wanted her to repeat the question.
“If I… hadn’t obeyed,” she said, a bit of her bravado fading now, and she nervously twisted her braid. “What would you have done?”
“If you were mine? I’d have spanked your ass,” I said honestly, gauging her reaction. Her eyes widened, her cheeks pinking as I crossed my arms on my chest. “I was investigating to keep you safe, and I wouldn’t have been too impressed if you didn’t listen.”
“And if I wasn’t… yours?” she whispered.
I smirked. “I wouldn’t recommend you try me.”
She observed me for a moment, then shook her head, as if to clear her mind. “The closet should have everything you need, your linens and towels, and in the morning, we’ll see about contacting your friend or something.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” she said, and she shut the door with a bang.
What the hell was that all about?
I sat on the edge of the bed and removed my shoes. It was ridiculous, a guy like me, taken with a girl who was some type of… captive. How had I found my way here?
How would I find my way out? I didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone.
I listened at the door until I heard no more sounds from her bedroom. I needed to investigate this house while she slept. There was no way I’d believe her that she had no contact with anyone outside this house.
Something wasn’t right here, and I wanted to find out what was going on. I opened the closet, not exactly knowing what to expect, but it was nearly vacant except for a pile of folded linens on a shelf and lone box shoved in a corner, labeled “Library Donations.”
A quick glance revealed a pile of books. Maybe I’d find something to read. When I flipped open the lid, feeling a bit guilty for prying into what wasn’t my business, I found a handful of mystery thrillers and an old cookbook, none of which appealed to me, so I kept looking. I smiled to myself when I saw an older romance cover I recognized from when I worked at the supermarket in high school. “Bodice rippers,” they called them, the hero’s shirt opened at the waist, revealing chiseled shoulders and honed abs, the girl’s hair floating behind her in the wind. I dug below that pile, and froze.
A black background and a pair of silver handcuffs graced the cover of one, and the handle of a riding crop next to a red rose on the second. I blinked, and knelt in front of the box, closing my eyes at the flood of memories.
Rosalee, tied to the bedpost in the private room where no one would see us. Her head thrown back, eyes closed on the cusp of sub-space, her naked form bearing the marks of our session, my power over her, the submission she’d given me willingly, a rare gift…
The month before she left me.
I hadn’t taken a sub since.
I shook my head, shoved the books back in the box and pushed the flap down.
I crept out of the room, sure not to make any noise, and I made my way back down to the room I assumed was his office. I tried the door. Locked, as I suspected.
I took a credit card out of my wallet, and kneeling in front of the door, I slid it between the door and strike plate, straightened the card so it was perpendicular to the door, and wriggled until I heard the latch decompress and the lock popped free.
I twisted the knob, my heart tripping in my chest. The door fell open, the darkened interior of his office cold and forbidding. I crept along on the floor, looking around for s
omething that would get me access to the outside world. A computer sat on a large desk in the corner, and to the in front of the desk, two chairs.
I’ve heard screams.
I’ve never seen anyone come out of his office.
I groped about the room. I needed a phone. Nothing sat on his desk. He had to have something. I yanked open one drawer. Several lengths of rope were neatly tied and stacked in the drawer, bottles of pills, and a sealed black case. I didn’t even want to know.
I shut it quickly, opened the second, and froze. A pistol with a silencer sat on the very top but beside the pistol, a cordless phone.
Jesus. Would he have his phone tapped? Did he have surveillance cameras?
After I left this place, I’d never fucking look back.
I stared hard at the door, the image of Rae in my mind.
I lifted the phone, a slim, wireless handset, and felt a surge of relief at the sound of a dial tone. I dialed so quickly, my fingers shook, and I had to re-dial several times before it finally rang.
“Please pick up. Damn it, Seth, pick up the phone.”
On the sixth ring, just when I feared it would go to voicemail, Seth’s familiar voice came through on the line. “Hello?”
“Seth. It’s me.”
A brief pause. “Ryder?” The loud noises in the background nearly drowned out his voice. He had to be at Limits. “Dude, where are you? I almost didn’t answer. I don’t usually answer private numbers.”
“Jesus. I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere. I broke down on Route 249, just outside of Tailborough. I walked like four miles to get to this house and I have no cell reception. Need you to come get me. Now. This place is creeping me the fuck out. Something’s not right.”
I hissed into the phone as quickly as I could, feeling like someone was watching me from behind but when I turned, I saw nothing but the dark expanse of the hallway behind me. The girl was asleep and the rest of the house was vacant.
“How do I find you?” He asked.
Good fucking question. “Just a minute.”
I rifled through the papers on the desk until I found a stack of mail. I matched up the addresses and told him the address.
“I’ll get you myself. I’ll leave now. For God’s sake, be careful.”
I hung the phone up, my adrenaline pumping. But as I stood, I remembered the girl who slept upstairs. How could I just leave her like this?
Would she even go if I offered?
Picking up a blank sheet of paper and a pen, I scrawled a quick note. I had to go. If you ever need anything, call me.
I scratched my phone number on it and signed it, folded it in three, and wrote RAE across the top, then put everything back just the way it was, looking around me as I did. But I was alone.
I crept back up the carpeted stairs, invigorated now that I knew that help was on its way, my heart slamming against my rib cage. I knelt before Rae’s door and slipped the paper underneath. I waited, holding my breath, but no sound came from inside the room. I gave one last look around me before I grabbed my cell phone from the room next to Rae’s, shoved it in my pocket, and took off. Tired, hungry, and seriously unsettled, I opened the back door and left.
4
CHAPTER FOUR
Rae
I had expected he would leave, but I wasn’t sure when. I sat on my bed, listening to the soft sounds of him padding around outside my door, but still I jumped a little when the sliver of white appeared beneath the bottom of the door. I waited a full five minutes, not wanting him to hear me if he was still there, before I unfolded myself from bed and fetched the paper. I sat on the floor and stared at my name written across the top. I closed my eyes briefly. If he had paper and a pen, he’d likely made his way to my father’s office, and the only way he’d be able to get in would’ve been to break in like a burglar.
Maybe my father was right. Maybe people were untrustworthy and dangerous. I had almost spent the night under the same roof as a man who was likely a thief, or worse.
I opened the paper, and something inside me warmed. As I sat on the floor with the paper in my hand, I remembered the kindness in his eyes. The way he said my name, and the way he’d touched me when I fell against him. He was strong, and handsome, and he’d proven my father wrong. People weren’t all bad.
I wanted to know more about Ryder.
I looked about my room. Where would I hide the paper? Frowning, I scanned my shelves until I found a large, hardcover version of Robinson Crusoe. Slipping the book down from the shelf, I tucked the piece of paper in. No one would be the wiser. And it was fitting, putting my note in a book about a shipwrecked man. He’d had no one. Just like me.
With a sigh, I opened the drawer next to my bed and removed the phone I kept hidden in there. My father was the only one who had the number. A pang of guilt plagued me. I’d lied to Ryder and told him I had no phone or way to contact the outside world.
The phone lay silent, though.
I put it back in the drawer. Tonight, I would get some rest and deal with what had happened in the morning.
I watched from my bedroom window as his long, black limousine swung into view. He was four days earlier than expected and I knew why. The only question was, how would he react? I pretended to be reading a book by the window when the door opened and his deep, booming voice called to me from downstairs.
“Rowena!”
For a brief moment, I fantasized about locking the door, pulling out the phone I had for emergencies, and dialing Ryder’s number. What would happen then, though? Would I stay behind the closed door and wait for Ryder to come sailing in and somehow miraculously save me? Franky, I was surprised he’d even left me his number. I mean, I’d whacked him with an iron and not exactly given him the warmest welcome.
“Rowena!” His voice grew louder still, impatient now. “Get down here!”
With a sigh, I put my book down, but not before I removed Robinson Crusoe from the shelf and pulled out the paper one last time. I unfolded it and read the number, repeating it to myself. I was sure I wouldn’t forget it at this point. I’d recited it to myself hundreds of times a day since he’d left it.
“Yes! I’m here.” I walked to the top of the stairs and waved my hand at the furious form of my father on the landing below. “You’re early. Welcome home.”
“Don’t you ‘welcome home’ me,” he said with a glare. “You get down here.”
My heart kicked up as I walked down the stairs. What would he do? He never hit me, even when I was a small child. But he had other methods.
“What is it?” I brushed my damp palms against my jeans. “I thought you weren’t due home until Friday?”
“It amazes me how easily you lie.” The words sank into the pit of my stomach like lead.
I swallowed. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered. I stared up at him, and realized that he looked much more tired than I’d seen him in a while. His white hair, shaved short, was thin around the temples, and his ice-blue eyes lined with wrinkles. But even though he was older, now, he still held his body erect, and wielded power.
“I got notification from the surveillance team that there was a trespasser on our property the night before last.”
“Oh,” I said, waving my hand with an effort to be nonchalant. “Oh, that! Yes, some man’s car got stuck on the side of the road, but I’m not sure where. Side of the highway, maybe? But he managed to find his way here and he left shortly after.”
“He came in through the window. You should have called the police. But instead of calling the police, you served him hot chocolate.”
How did he know everything? My stomach twisted with nausea.
“It seemed the hospitable thing to do.”
He shook his head. “Now you see why I have to protect you. Get down here, please.”
Slowly I obeyed, though I didn’t want to. I wanted to change the subject and pretend this never happened, but I knew he would have his way. He always did. “Sit.” He pointed to the
chair at the dining room table as he poured himself a drink of Scotch at the sideboard. Once again, it occurred to me that I didn’t have to do what he said. I was an adult. I asked myself the same question I had hundreds of times over the past few years.
Why don’t you leave?
You don’t have to stay.
He doesn’t treat you right.
But where would I go? And Ryder’s number came to me. I repeated it, as I’d taught myself to do. Up until this point, I knew that if I went anywhere, he would find me. Even the police department was in his pocket. I had no idea what he actually did, but I knew he was powerful, and I knew he was feared.
“Why didn’t you tell me right away a man trespassed on our property and entered through your window?”
I shrugged. “He seemed harmless.”
He slammed his hand on the dining room table so loudly I jumped. “Harmless? He came in the house. He went in my office.”
“How do you know that?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw and his eyes narrowed. Not answering the question, he continued his accusations. “He came when no one was here. He could’ve raped you. He could’ve taken advantage of you, Rowena!”
“He wouldn’t!”
My father’s eyes registered first shock, then anger. “Your loyalty lies with a stranger who broke into our home, rather than with the man who rescued you and raised you as his own?”
“Father, I—”
“No. You listen to me. What happened the other night was a danger to you. You’ve been taught to contact me when anyone comes to the house. You failed me, Rowena, and this must not happen again.” He frowned at me, eliciting the familiar feeling of dread disobeying him always caused.
“I didn’t mean—”
He picked up his glass and whipped it straight across the room. I screamed. The glass shattering on impact, amber liquid staining the ivory walls. I sat, frozen in place, as he picked up another glass, and another, whipping each one at the wall until a pile of glittering shards lay on the floor of the dining room. “You didn’t mean,” he mocked, a trickle of sweat dripping down from his temple. “You didn’t mean what? To threaten your safety? To disobey my instructions? To lie to me?”
