by Dani Wyatt
“Do you know there is a code?” Allister smiles and my belly again does things that remind me of a cheap romance novel.
God, how does he do that?
“Code?” I raise an eyebrow and note the twinkle in his eyes.
“Yes. The real-man code.”
“What are you talking about?” My words are clipped, tipped with feigned annoyance, but in reality I’m desperate to keep him here. I want to be with him, just for a few more moments, indulging in my fantasy.
“Yes. Real men finish what they start. Real men walk ladies to the door. Real men have a code. You’ll be more familiar with it as time goes on. But for now, just understand, I will be walking you to that door.” There’s no question or room for negotiation in his voice. All I can do is sit mute, swallow, and try to keep the drool from dripping off my chin.
The limo comes to a stop in front of the guesthouse. It’s a smaller version of the main house: very open and clean on the inside, minimal, but still warm and comforting.
The back wall of the living room looks out over a ravine that leads down to a river. At night, when I’m staring at the ceiling and wondering what’s next for me and my life, I can hear the water rushing and bubbling over the stones and silt. My life has turned upside down in the last few weeks. I hope that’s the end of it, but I suspect the future is not yet settled.
Because it never really is, is it?
The car door clicks open and Wilson greets me with his usual warm smile. I see a glint of the gold-capped tooth he’s always had. He’s been with the family since my parents were alive, so he knows me as well as anyone besides May. I know that he stayed on after the accident just for us, as did all the staff who didn’t beat a hasty retreat after we were orphaned and Simon-the-Hell-Hound took over the house.
And our lives.
The staff that stayed didn’t hang around because Simon and Victor were pleasant employers, that’s for sure. Wilson, Miss Henrietta and Mr. Fredby have circled the wagons around me, so to speak, since the incident where Simon locked me downstairs trying to force May to marry Victor. Then, when it was clear that might not happen, they started prepping me for the replacement position.
What a mess. All because my father trusted someone close to him rather than trusting his daughters to make their own decisions. His backward view of women wasn’t his fault, I suppose, he was a product of the community in which he was raised. But it was still the cause of all this.
Wilson extends his hand toward me in the back seat, but Allister’s comes out to replace his.
“I’ll take it from here. Thank you.” He moves swiftly and silently for someone so large. He’s out the car door and inching Wilson backward with his body.
My driver steps back with a grimace. His eyes dart from me to Allister, then back again with a tip of his head. He is staff, sure, only we formed a different sort of bond. He’s not as old as Miss Henrietta and Mr. Fredby, and he’s a friend to me in his own way, as much as an employee.
“I’ll be here to take you back to the house later——” Wilson starts, but Allister cuts him off.
“We’ll be fine. I’ll take her where she needs to go.”
The tension turns my stomach. Both men look like frothing lions and I’m trapped in the middle, not really sure what’s going on. The urge to cut the tension pushes my voice from my throat.
“I’ll text you when I need the car, Wilson. Thank you.” I meet his eyes and smile as Allister steps my way. Whatever dynamic is ruffling their man feathers, it seems that it’s my job to try to sooth it.
Wilson hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes, miss, of course.” He takes a step back before adding, “You have my number.”
The two of them exchange another tense glance. I shouldn’t care, shouldn’t let it bother me, but for some reason it does. Whatever is going on between them, it involves me.
I’m still puzzling over it as Allister’s frame fills the open door.
It takes me a moment to decide my next move. I don’t know Allister at all really. I mean, sure, he’s Decker’s best friend, I get that, but that doesn’t make him anything to me.
Honestly, I don’t remember the last person I could trust that wasn’t one of the staff. Well, obviously there’s May, but that’s different. She’s more like a part of me. Seems everyone else has an agenda, and usually it involves our money. That seems to be a motivator for most people I’ve noticed. Wilson has never said one word about needing anything in his life. He’s always been a perfect gentleman. Gone above and beyond the call of duty with the family, and especially for me.
“Leah.” Allister leans down so his face is in the open doorway. “I’m here to escort you, nothing more. Just take my hand, let me help you inside. My gentleman card will be revoked if you don’t let me return you safe and sound.”
That wry smile curves his full lips. It looks somewhat out of place, and yet perfect.
I gulp the lump in my throat and shift my body over toward the door. Thank goodness my dress is a gauzy silk and it slips easily across the soft leather seat. I can’t push off with my legs, so I have to use my arms to maneuver into position and reach down to lift and reposition my feet so they sit just outside the open door and will fall square under me when I stand.
Hopefully I stand. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve toppled over. Face down and ass up.
Pretty picture for a porn star, but not for me.
Part of me wants to trade Allister for Wilson right now. Only because, at least he’s been around me, seen me at my worst...
He doesn’t bring out feelings the way Allister is doing.
Or give me the urge to kiss him.
The way Allister is doing.
The stainless steel that supports my legs inside and outside of my calves, upward, with a black strap that tightens just below my knee are part of the flat, black loafers I wore today. The bars disappear under the hem of my ruffled skirt where they are secured to two more Velcro straps which are currently digging into my upper thighs.
Needless to say, Jimmy Choo’s these are not.
Just as my cheeks flash flaming fuschia, Allister leans in the open doorway, both his enormous hands scooping up my own. And all the while, those golden eyes stay locked onto mine.
“I’ve got you, Leah. I’ll never let you fall.”
C H A P T E R T W O
ALLISTER
Dormant dick.
Dormant - having normal physical functions suspended or slowed down for a period of time, as if in a deep sleep.
Well, hibernation is over.
I tried to convince myself two weeks ago when I saw her for the first time that my reaction was a combination of adrenaline and male ego.
White knight syndrome. I’ve got it. Always have.
But this was different. Opening that dungeon door and finding Leah there, gagged and tied to her wheelchair in the pitch black, my legs threatened to buckle. In the dim light I could barely make out the fine features of her face, but it was more than her beauty that shook me.
It was her.
All of her.
A thunder rumbled inside me. Her presence latched onto me and hasn’t let go.
I can’t explain it; it hit me like a bat to the balls.
I remember struggling for my next breath as I stepped closer to her, shoving cops out of my path as they attempted to step in front of me.
No way was anyone getting to her before me. I became someone else in that moment, something wild.
She’d been in there for two days with barely any human contact. They’d stuffed some bread in her mouth, a few sips of water, enough to keep her alive. But she was weak, shivering, and I wanted to render flesh from bone to whatever waste of breath had done this to her.
Leah screamed at me. She didn’t beg for help. She fought.
Pounding me with her fists, using all the force she could muster. As soon as I’d cut through the zip ties holding her arms she became a Gatling gun of fist shots. And I loved every bl
ow she delivered.
I even smiled and that just set her off on another round. I didn’t blame her either, even then. She didn’t know me and I suppose I should have let the cops go in first, but my senses told me she was in that room and as soon as I locked onto her, sitting there in the dark, all bets were off.
I remember the words ‘finders keepers’ repeating in my head.
Because that is exactly what I planned to do, keep her.
She’s leaning into my arm now, taking slow, measured steps toward the door of Deck’s guesthouse where she’s staying for now. The police are done with the official investigation, but with May gone I don’t think Leah is comfortable returning to the estate just yet.
Decker’s been my best friend since we went through basic training together a hundred years ago. Back then he was a mentor to me. I nicknamed him ‘Gramps,’ both because he had nearly ten years on all of us other recruits, and also because he never went wild like most of the rest of the guys.
And nor did I.
That’s probably why we bonded so quickly. I don’t know, partying and hooking up with the girl of the day never appealed to me, and when you’re in the military that seems to be part and parcel of the standard program. So, even with our age difference, Decker and I forged a friendship that remains strong to this day.
I’m president of his corporation, Monarch Ventures. He is the CEO and owner of a chain of five uber-successful high-end nightclubs. Before Leah, I was more than happy to work fourteen-hour days, seven days a week. Same with Decker before he met May. To tell the truth, now that Decker’s married Leah’s sister, he’s making noises that he intends to hand the reins over to me completely.
The bulge in the front of my slacks is pressing out between the break in my suit coat, but there’s no controlling the monster when she’s this close. I clear my throat, praying for at least a modicum of control before speaking. “No need to thank me. It’s more than my pleasure.”
She’s got her sable hair tied in these twisted, soft curls that pin at the back of her head, while the rest of it falls straight to the center of her back. The way it flows against the soft, peach fabric of her dress makes me want to bury my nose in it and take in that sweet scent I already know so well. That scent has been in my nose since last night at rehearsal dinner when I finally laid eyes on her again and managed to get close enough to breathe her in.
When she saw me, she thanked me for helping her. It meant more to me than any recognition I could receive. Her soft, simple ‘thank you’ is a trophy I will carry in my heart for the rest of my life.
But try as I might, I couldn’t find any words to respond. She must have thought I was a complete idiot, standing there with my hands in my pockets and my mouth open, my cock practically nudging his way out of my zipper to make his own introduction.
But her scent stayed with me all night, just as it’s with me right now. It’s something I’ve never experienced before, sweet but fresh. It’s both decadent and innocent at the same time. I woke up this morning covered in my own cum from the endless dreams that fill my fitful sleep. The same way the morning has greeted me since that day I saw her the first time... That day I found her there, something inside me snapped. I swore off any more stroke sessions, it just didn’t feel right anymore.
But, it seems my dreams have a mind of their own, because every night the hours are filled with her. My lips on hers. My calloused, rough fingers finding the tips of her breasts, twirling and pinching the nipples as I stare into her eyes, watching that dreamy expression. My arms, lifting her up and dancing around the room with her, her feet on mine, giving her that feeling of moving like a breeze.
Then laying her down and making her body mine, in every way.
“Smells great in here.” I raise my nose in the air just inside the guesthouse front door, breathing in the smell of home cooking. Fresh bread and the rich, thick aroma of roast beef. My mouth is watering for a new reason now.
“That’s Henrietta. Her real name is Henryka, but when we were little we couldn’t say that so she became Henrietta.” Leah rolls her eyes playfully, raising her voice so that she’ll be heard by whomever is milling about in the kitchen. “She insists on cooking these huge meals for me every day, even though I barely touch a few bites.”
That has me immediately worried.
“You need to eat.” I tighten my grip on her hand, looking down to see her give me a questioning glance.
“I do eat.” A quick smile brushes her lips and I want so badly to kiss her, my head is pounding in time with the ache from down below.
I want all her smiles from now on. I want to teach her that her lips were intended to curve up, not down.
Or open wide.
The lingering sadness in her eyes makes me draw in a slow breath. It takes her a moment to let the smile settle onto her face. I see that she’s forgotten the joy she so deserves. Joy I want to give her.
“I don’t need these caveman meals cooked for me every single day.” She squeezes my hand. “Henrietta is overprotective. Feeding me more than the Knights of the Round Table could eat in a sitting is her way of showing it.”
We step into the kitchen, where tall windows fill the wall over the sink and everything gleams in gunmetal gray, glossy white or stainless steel. You can tell that this place belongs to Deck, his influence is plain in the starkness of it. Leah looks so warm and lush in this cold room.
An older woman with gray hair braided and tied up on the top of her head is fussing and speaking to something on the stove in Polish. I know it’s Polish because my parents emigrated from Warsaw. She’s swearing at whatever she’s stirring.
“Hi, Henrietta.”
“Oh!” She breaks from her Polish blue streak. As she turns to see Leah, her worn face lights up. “Zabka!”
She twists back to the stove, stirring and falling back into a new grumbling Polish tirade. I never actually spoke Polish, well except the curse words. But I am still able to decipher most of the spoken words and I’m pretty sure she just called Leah a frog.
I guide Leah to the glass-topped kitchen table and pull out one of the four comfortable white linen chairs with my free hand. She leans on me as I settle her into the seat, and even as my forearm bears her weight, I note that she’s so light, it’s unbelievable.
I don’t miss the shaking sigh of relief as the weight leaves her feet. She didn’t use her arm crutches today and I know that walking with just her leg braces has been a challenge for her. I watched the strain in her face all day, and I wanted so badly to scoop her up and be her strength, but she stood strong while May and Deck took their short vows and I just stared at her, in awe the entire time.
Henrietta turns back around, jutting out a round hip and narrowing her eyes at Leah. “So?” She jabs the word at Leah. “How was the wedding?” Her curt formality doesn’t hide her displeasure.
“It wasn’t really a wedding, Henrietta. It was just a ceremony. Don’t be mad at May for not inviting you and Mr. Fredby. And Wilson. Well, Wilson drove, but he was kind of a grouch about it as well. It was so quick, like ten minutes, in and out. Recite the vows and get on with the honeymoon. That’s what she wanted. You know May, you can’t tell her anything. She gets her mindset and that’s that.”
I work my way to stand behind Leah’s chair, my hands thrust down in my pockets, shifting my half-hard monster, hoping like hell the two ladies don’t take note of the tent in my trousers.
Henrietta makes a frmpt sound and glares at us both.
Then she trades the gravy-dripping spoon for a knife. She flicks it in the air sharply, then points it at me, narrowing her milky blue eyes as she does. “Who’s he?” She walks from the stove to where we are. The black and white of her uniform is crisp and clean, without a single drop of the meal she’s been cooking showing on the fabric. “Hmmm? Who is he?”
She stabs the knife once more in my direction, making no effort to soften her question.
I answer as Leah stifles a laugh. “Allister
Marshall, ma’am.” I step around the table and hold out my hand. “My family name is Maslak. From Warsaw originally. My parents changed it to Marshall when they came here.”
She stares at me and then back at Leah as though I don’t exist. “And who is Allister Marshall? Hmmm?”
The giggle escapes from Leah’s mouth. “He’s the one that helped find me that night. He’s Decker’s best friend, they run the business together.” Leah draws out each word as Henrietta continues to stare her down with doubt. “He wanted to make sure I got home safely from the wedding, that’s all. I drank a glass of champagne after all and who knows what horrors could have awaited me in my impaired state of mind.” Leah ends with a smile on those amazing lips.
In the limo Leah’s walls were up, defenses primed and ready. But here, under the scrutiny of Henrietta, she appears to be coming to my aid, which warms my heart.
“Hmmmph. Okay.” Henrietta examines me from my forehead to my feet, then puts the knife down into the front pocket on her white apron and smacks me on the chest before pointing at the chair next to Leah. “You. Sit. Eat.”
“No, ma’am, I’m not hungry——” I raise my hands in surrender.
Leah interrupts with a wave of her hand. “No, Henrietta, he’s not staying.”
“Sit.” She stabs a finger toward me then the table then looks back at Leah before she continues. “And I saw the empty box of those Poptarts.” Henrietta narrows her eyes at Leah. “That’s not food.”
Gone is Leah’s sullen expression and the discomfort, replaced by something warm and inviting.
Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, and that just lets me know I’m right.
We both had just eaten after the wedding, but I’m happy to sit here and eat some more because it feels like we are in this together. Anything that makes me part of her life is okay in my book.
May and Decker are going to the Pennington House for a couple nights. It’s this amazing house, set up on the bluffs above Lake Michigan. Decker’s been planning it until every detail was in place. Somewhere in my heart I know I’m as gone over Leah as Decker was when he met May. But I needed to give her time after everything that had happened. The last two weeks staying away nearly killed me, but last night when I saw her again, I knew right then I wouldn’t be able to let her get away from me again. The time is now and I’m not wasting any more.
