by Naomi Niles
"All right." I grinned. The idea of wearing one of his designer dress shirts was appealing. It was the kind of thing a man let his girlfriend do, and while I was still the category of hired help, I couldn't keep from hoping that one day Tate might develop the same kind of feelings for me that I had for him.
I opened the doors to his massive walk-in closet and stared at all the possibilities. Never had seen so many clothes outside of a department store.
"Which one should I choose?" I gasped.
"Any one you want," he said, "and hand me one, too."
"Sure." I entered the closet and ran my hand along all the fine fabrics. I picked out a simple Ralph Lauren cotton button shirt in pale blue and slipped it on. With the buttons closed, it did fit me like a short shirt-dress. I rolled up the sleeves to mid-length and selected a shirt for Tate. I picked a rich forest green for him because I thought it would complement his eyes.
I turned around with it to leave the closet when suddenly I froze. There they were. Tucked in the corner by the door, hidden from view unless someone walked into the closet, I saw them.
It was a pair of black leather athletic shoes with the number twenty-two stitched in red leather on the side. There could be no mistake. The memory was burned too vividly in my brain. These were the shoes of the man who had assaulted me the other night, and here they were tucked away in Tate's closet.
This startling discovery could only mean one thing: Tate Holland was the one who had hit me over the head and knocked me unconscious. But why on earth would he do that? There was only one reason I could think of: he had killed Rose, and now it was only a matter of time before he killed me, too.
Chapter Thirty-One: Rachelle
"What's wrong?" Tate came running up to me with a worried look on his handsome face.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the shoes. They were a limited edition specially created by an artistic designer. There couldn't have been very many made. It might even be a one-of-kind shoe made specifically for him. Finding them here in Tate's closet could only meant one thing. A chill ran down my spine, making me shudder and I clutched my stomach, fearful that I would vomit.
That's when Tate came running up to me. He clutched my shoulders and stared into my eyes with a worried expression. "What's wrong? I heard you scream."
"I screamed?" I didn't realize I had, but my heart was pounding in my chest, and there was a lump of bile so thick in my throat, I could hardly breathe.
"Yes. You're pale white and trembling. What happened? Let me help you." He held me to him, hugging me to his chest, but it felt like I was being squeezed by the man who tried to kill me. Trapped, I pushed back violently against him, freeing myself as I staggered backward.
"Nothing's wrong. Just don't touch me," I cried out, backing away from him. I had to get out of this closet. I had to get out of this room. I had to get as far away from him as possible before he hurt me again.
"Okay. I won't." He held up his hands in a position of passive surrender to prove to me he wasn't going to hurt me. His hazel green eyes looked at me with such compassion as he said to me softly, "Just tell me what has you so upset."
"I have to leave. I can't stay in this house anymore. I have to go home." I could hear the panic in my voice, and I tried to calm myself so I would sound rational.
"Why?" He frowned, and my mind raced for an answer. I couldn't let him know that he was what I was terrified of. If he found out I had seen the shoes and knew he was the one who had attacked me, he would kill me for certain – right here in the same bedroom where he killed Rose. Then he gave me the solution I was looking for. Reaching for my hand, he asked, "Is it your mother's cancer?"
"Yes." I leaped at the excuse. Cleverly withdrawing my hand from his, I buried my face and cried, "Her doctor says she's gotten a deadly infection because the cancer treatments have weakened her immune system. I have to go see her."
"Of course, you must," he said with understanding. "I'll drive you myself."
"No. I don't want you to do that," I insisted. He looked insulted, and I had to think quickly. "Halle will need you more than ever while I'm gone."
"You're right. She hates it when Emma watches over her." He chuckled, and I faked a smile.
"I'd better go pack my things," I said. The tension I felt was almost suffocating. Luckily, he seemed to think it was because I was upset about my mother, not because I'd discovered his dark secret.
"I'll tell Scott to warm up the car for you and carry your bag to the car. When you're ready to come back home, just call and he'll pick you back up and bring you back where you belong."
"I have his number," I said with a fake smile. There was no way I was telling him I wasn't ever coming back to this house until I was safely out of it. He’d already murdered one woman, and he could have killed me that night he assaulted me. I was lucky to have gotten away with just a concussion. I was escaping for good before he finished me off entirely.
"Hurry back to me. I'll miss you while you're gone." Tate pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn't let him know how revolted I was by his touch now that I knew the truth. So I opened my mouth to him, and the passion of his embrace overtook me. It was amazing how he could have that erotic effect of my body, even when my mind knew what a monster he was.
Breathlessly, I broke free and ran down the hall to my room and locked the door. I didn't come out until Scott knocked on the door to carry my luggage to the car.
"You sure have packed a lot for a short stay with your mother," he joked.
"Yeah, you never know what you'll need." I laughed it off. Even though I considered Scott to be a friend, I couldn't trust him with the secret that I was never coming back.
He opened the car door for me, and I climbed inside for what I knew would be the last time. My breath caught in my throat as we drove slowly down the driveway, and I didn't exhale until we pulled through the security gate and it shut behind us.
I was free, and best of all, I was still alive. I turned around to take a final look at the mansion, and as I did, I saw Halle bounding down the driveway, still in her pink pajamas. Her chocolate curls were unruly as they bounced around her head while she ran, waving at me and calling for me not to go.
"Shit." I sighed quietly to myself. In my rush to escape, I'd left her behind, but what could I do? She wasn't my child and to take her would be kidnapping. So, I closed my eyes and tried to block her out of my mind.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Tate
"Halle, come back, sweetheart." I stood on the front steps of the mansion, knelt down, and spread my arms, beckoning her to me.
She stopped running about a third of the way down the driveway, already winded from the exertion. She stopped and watched as the black car turned onto the road and disappeared into the distance. Only when it was completely gone from sight did my precious child turn her eyes away.
She walked slowly back towards the house, trudging with defeat. My heart broke for her because I understood just what she was feeling. Rachelle Clare was so much more than a mere employee. She was a part of our family now, and we'd both grown to care for her very much.
I walked down the steps and met Halle half-way, where I scooped her up into my arms and carried her back.
"Why did Rachelle leave?" Halle sniffed.
"Her mother is very sick, so she had to go visit her," I explained.
"How did she know?" she asked, giving voice to the question that had been burning in my mind.
Rachelle had left her cell phone in her room. The only thing she'd brought to my bedroom suite was her silky negligee and her sexy body. So why did she suddenly fall apart thinking about her mother? I wondered.
Perhaps it was a repressed fear. She had been under a lot of strain since the assault, and that's why I had brought her to my room: to help her relax. I knew bringing her body to a state of euphoric bliss would free her mind, as well. Unfortunately, it looked like my plan had worked a little too well.
The incredib
le night of pleasure hadn't just freed her mind of stress; it had allowed all the fear and pain she felt over her mother's disease to bubble to the surface. She'd panicked, and now I had no choice but to let her go home to calm her nerves and center herself.
Smiling down at Halle, I simply said, "Her mother's been sick for a long time. Don't worry, Rachelle will be back in a little while."
"Will she have lunch with us?" Halle's hazel green eyes brightened with hope, but I had to be honest with her.
"No, sweetheart. But she should come back in a few days, so I need you to be a good girl until then so Rachelle will be proud of you when she comes back."
"Okay, Daddy," Halle vowed solemnly.
We were inside the front entryway of the house now, and I set her down. She looked up at me and asked, "Can I go to Olivia's house today?"
It was the name of her best friend, whom she hadn't asked for since Rachelle came to stay with us. I had a feeling spending the day playing with one of her peers would do her a lot of good. Smiling down at her, I said, "Sure, as long as Olivia's parents say it's okay."
Halle danced a circle around me while I called the girl’s family on my cell and made the arrangements. Then she grabbed her favorite stuffed giraffe and waited by the door. The moment Scott arrived back to the house from dropping Rachelle off, he took Halle away for a day of fun with her friend.
I couldn't help but notice that Scott kept driving away with the women I held most dear, leaving me utterly alone.
As I walked through the house back up to my office, I couldn't help but notice how quiet and empty the vast mansion felt without the sound of Halle's giggles echoing through the halls or singing the songs Rachelle taught her. She didn't want to be in the nursery without Rachelle there to brighten the room, and I didn't blame her. It was amazing how attached to her we had both gotten in such a short period of time.
In a way, it had me worried. It was too reminiscent of the way things had been with Rose Landon. Rose had been just twenty-two years old the day she first stepped foot into my office. Her blonde hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled. She was so pretty and friendly, Halle took to her right away.
I wanted to hire her, but the way her dress clung to the curves of her body had made me instantly hard during her interview. I knew I wouldn't be able to have her in the house without wanting to fuck her. The desire would drive me crazy and distract me from my work – so I made it a part of her job. If she were willing to satisfy my needs whenever they arose, then having her there wouldn't be a disruption. In fact, it would satisfy a need I had in my life, as well as Halle's. Rose agreed to the terms willingly, and our affair began immediately.
God, she'd been so good in bed – not that we ever used an actual bed. Her favorite place to fuck was in the walk-in linen closet at the end of the upstairs hall. Emma kept clean sheets and blankets in there for when she was cleaning the bedrooms, as well as towels for the bathrooms. One morning, I saw Rose in there.
"Are you lost?" I teased, entering the walk-in closet with her.
"Halle had an accident last night," she explained. "I just dropped her off at Olivia's house, and I thought I'd use the time to change her bed, so Emma didn't have to do it."
"That's very kind of you," I said, but my voice was thick was desire. Anytime I was in a confined space with the hot, young nanny, my dick would get hard, and the linen closet had us so close, we were practically touching.
"I like doing favors for people," she said. "Let me do one for you right now."
Then, she got down on her knees and sucked my dick right there in the closet. I pulled the door shut just moments before Emma walked up the stairs to clean the nursery. We could hear her just a few feet away, talking to herself as she tidied up Halle's toys. I expected Rose to stop, but it just spurred her on more.
With intense enthusiasm, she sucked the length of my cock, taking me all the way down her throat.
"I'm going to come," I whispered with a groan, and she clenched my buttocks with her hands, holding me locked in her deliciously hot mouth as I shot my load down her hungry throat. She guzzled hungrily, swallowing every last drop, and even licking my head clean when I was done.
"That was incredible," I thanked her as she wiped her mouth and I zipped shut my slacks.
"Next time, it's your turn to make me come." She winked, and then she exited the closed with a sashay of her hips.
And so it went. We met again in the closet later that night after Halle had gone to bed and I finger fucked her until she came. The next time we got together in the closet, I fucked her from behind, and the time after that, she mounted me at the waist while I held her pressed against the door, praying to God that Emma wouldn't come in looking to change the sheets.
The taboo nature of our sex made it fun and exciting, and Rose's body was firm and ripe. She was always wet and willing; but there was something very impersonal about what we did together, too. We never kissed. We never made love. We never cuddled together in the afterglow or even used a bed. It was always fucking in closets, my office, and once in the pool. It was always hot and left me feeling sexually satisfied, but as the weeks turned months, I found myself wanting something deeper.
For Rose's twenty-third birthday, I bought her a diamond pendant necklace. I gave it to her after we fucked in our favorite linen closet. I thought it would be a great segue to moving things from the closet to my bedroom.
"Thank you. It's beautiful." Her lips were smiling, but her blue eyes weren't. Her eyes cast downward as she slipped the necklace into her pocket.
"Aren't you going to put it on? Here, let me help you," I offered, but she opened the closet door and stepped out into the hall.
"I'll put it on later. Right now, I have to go. I'm late for something." She waved me off.
She wore the necklace for me the next time I called for her to come satisfy me at night, but I never saw her wearing it any other time. She confessed to me that she didn't want to draw suspicion from the other employees, but I didn't think that was really it. It was no secret from Emma, Stuart, and Scott that I was sleeping with Rose; they didn't care, so why should she?
No, something else was keeping Rose Landon from wearing that necklace, and I thought it was a fear of intimacy. She never talked about her family. She never talked about having a boyfriend or went out on dates. She was a very private person. That's what I liked about her at first. She was a mirror image of my own private psyche.
Although I loved my parents, we weren't close. My father was always out of town on business, and on the rare occasions he was home, he was a real asshole, strict as hell, and a complete hypocrite. My mother handled the loneliness by turning to the bottle. No one would admit she was an alcoholic, but even as a young child, I knew.
The only person I had been able to turn to for warmth and affection was my nanny. She was beautiful, with those soft round tits that she would let me rest my cheek on. She was an example of female perfection and the source of my first wet dream. No wonder I developed a nanny fetish.
It had made it difficult to develop intimate relationships as I grew up. None of the girls I ever dated as a young man could compare to the memory of the nanny I had put on a pedestal in my mind. As I grew up and became a man with responsibilities and a business empire to run, relationships got to be time-consuming and complex.
I didn't have time for a girlfriend, and even if I did, I didn’t know how I could find a woman I could trust wasn't just out for my money. Gold-diggers were everywhere, as proved by Missy Stevens, the junkie stripper who just happened to be Halle's birth mother.
It was probably a mistake letting the bitch stay in one of the guest bedrooms here in the mansion, but at least this way I could keep an eye on her and make sure nothing bad happened to Halle. Hell, Missy was hardly ever home anyway. She spent most of her time out partying with friends or sleeping over at her boyfriend's place. She only showed her face to me when the monthly allowance I gave her was gone, and s
he needed more money for drugs before the next deposit came.
It sickened me to enable her habit that way, but until she was willing to accept my offer to pay for a rehab facility, this was the best way to keep her from committing some hideous crime out of desperation and making her situation even worse. It was hard to explain, but even though Missy had tricked me into having Halle, I felt like I owed her something for it.
Halle was such an incredible gift in my life. She brought me more joy and happiness than I had ever known was possible to feel. She filled my heart with endless love and gave my life purpose and direction. She even made me long for intimacy. Before Halle was born, I never knew how lonely I was. Now that I had her, I found myself longing for a partner to share all my blessings with, someone who could join Halle and me, to make us a real family.
For a brief moment in time, I had asked myself if Rose Landon might be that person. No, it wasn't just when I was shooting a load down her throat. It was seeing the way she was with Halle and the nights when I had to leave the linen closet to return to cold, empty bed, wishing she could be in with me.
My sentimental longing didn't last long. A few weeks later, I came home with Halle from the zoo to learn that Rose had been killed. It was a particularly bitter irony that her body was found naked in my bedroom – the one place she'd never been.
It made me wonder if she'd gone in there looking to surprise me. A small part of me hoped that she had, but the larger part of me knew that was highly unlikely. She never wore the necklace I gave her. She never kissed my lips. She was my employee, and she fucked me strictly on a professional level. Sure our trysts in the linen closet were hot as hell, but they weren't warm or intimate. We fucked each other, but we weren't lovers.
After the tragic way she died, I supposed that was best. If we'd had more time to develop deeper feelings for each other, it would have been even more awful; devastating even. It was far better that we kept emotion out of our relationship, that we kept things strictly business.
