A nagging notion warned me this was the only reason a Morgon man would want me. It sounded distinctly like my mother’s voice. I fought to push the thought aside.
“You’re like a drug to me. I want more of you.” His words sent my mind reeling. He sucked hard just beneath my ear, definitely leaving a mark, before trailing back to my mouth. “I want more.” He pressed a hard kiss, prying my lips apart and stroking in deep. His hand wrapping my thigh squeezed a little tighter as he eased back, his heated gaze surely a mirror of my own. “But I’d better wait.”
I said nothing in reply, my brain fuzzy from the moment of passion. The first time I’d ever forgotten myself and fallen into such a moment.
“You’re so beautiful, Ella.”
My eyes fell, marveling at his large tan hand still gripping my pale thigh. The artist in me loved the contrast. A sudden, naughty thought flitted through my mind, that our skin tones were complimentary and would make the most perfect lovers for an artist’s canvas—bodies entwined, hard and soft, fair and dark.
“I love the way you blush so much.”
“I’m blushing?”
“Profusely.”
He kissed me. Sweetly. Slowly.
I arched a brow at him. “Is this part of the salary or just one of the perks of the job?”
He laughed. “No, angel. In this, you own me, not the other way around.” His expression became solemn all of a sudden. He curved a hand over one cheek. “It’s true, you know? I’m afraid to admit it, but I can’t help it. Something about you makes me want to tell you everything. Give you everything.”
Deep brown eyes captured me, showing a vulnerability I never thought to see there. I swallowed the lump in my throat. He knew I was incapable of responding. He lifted me off the desk, sliding my skirt back into place, his grave expression fading behind his charming one.
“Interview is over.”
“Do you interview all your employees in this fashion? Or am I getting special treatment?” My tone was teasing, but part of me wanted to ensure I wasn’t one of many.
“Special treatment, of course.”
“Of course,” I said, noting the slight dip in my voice, hoping he couldn’t hear the doubt inherent there.
He leaned across the desk, picked up my portfolio, and handed it to me. With one finger, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You’re special beyond compare, Ella. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
He brushed his index finger across my cheekbone, then dropped his hand to twine his fingers with mine and guide me out the door.
“Elsibeta can get you started, let you get acquainted with the office. Do you remember how you came in?” he asked with a gesture down the hall.
“Yes, but I thought—”
He planted a soft kiss on my lips, then headed swiftly in the other direction toward an outer exit door. His wings raised as if readying for flight.
“Wait. You’re leaving? Where are you going?”
“Things to do, pretty Ella.” He stopped at the exit and winked at me. “I’ve got a hot date tonight.”
My heart skipped a beat. I heard him whistling as he disappeared through the door.
Chapter 7
Descending the marble staircase, voices floated up from the front parlor. My mother’s high-pitched laughter echoed through the halls. I’d been preoccupied all afternoon preparing for my date with Paxon, so I hadn’t been aware of my parents’ evening plans.
Paxon had called at the gallery before I left, giving me an address, a time, and telling me to dress warmly. After what felt like hours, standing in my closet and staring at my wardrobe, I finally decided on tight-fitting black pants, a gray, button-up cashmere sweater, and my dark red, double-breasted wool coat. Glimpsing myself in the wall-mirror in the foyer, I liked that my blond braid wrapped neatly over one shoulder into a golden rope against the red. My nerves were out of control. I’d fussed over myself so long, wanting to look just right for him. Still, the effort seemed to be worth it. I gave myself an approving nod before heading into the front parlor to say goodnight to my parents before I stepped out.
Clayton stood next to my father, who clapped him on the shoulder before heading toward the arched entrance where I remained frozen in place.
“You two have a nice night.” Dad smiled down at me, placed a kiss on my crown, then carried his cocktail into his study across the hall and closed the door.
Clayton observed me from top to bottom with narrowed eyes and a forced smile. Mom stood up from the gold brocade sofa.
“You didn’t tell me you and Clayton were going out tonight, Ella.”
“We weren’t.” I cleared my throat. “We aren’t.” My voice was sharp.
Mom turned a confused look on Clayton. He laughed that fake, I’m-so-amazing laugh, which raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
“You must’ve forgotten, baby. I have reservations for us at Vallero’s. Besides, you certainly look ready to go out.” An accusatory tone.
“Yes, dear. You look very pretty.”
“Who were you going out with if you’d forgotten about our plans?”
Clayton’s gaze made me shiver as he walked toward me in a slow, determined gait.
My mother, obviously sensing some tension, rose and laughed. “Oh, I’m sure she didn’t forget.”
“Actually, Mom, there’s something I need—”
“I brought your comm device.” Clayton stood directly in front of me, blocking my mother. “You left it in my car the other night.”
He held out my comm with a video playing, the sound off. The footage was of me. I pressed my body against Paxon, pulled his face down to me, and planted a fiery kiss on his mouth in front of stunned onlookers. Someone had apparently been quick to video my public display and either posted it on the Net, or Clayton had gotten it directly from them. Heat rushed to my face.
Clayton grinned, but there was no trace of humor. Only biting, calculating malice. He spoke in a low, cruel tone. “Let’s go outside. Unless you want to have this conversation in front of your dear, sweet mother.”
He knew exactly what my fears were. When we’d first started dating, I’d mentioned my mom’s aversion to Morgons. In an attempt to get closer to him, I’d shared my own fear of disappointing my parents. Now, I regretted my stupidity.
I swallowed the ugly words I wanted to say to him. Now wasn’t the time for a scene. I’d have to break it to my parents later.
“Don’t wait up for me, Mom.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Barrow,” Clayton cooed in a syrupy voice, hooking one arm through mine, and led me out the double-doors into our circular drive.
As soon as we were out of earshot, I ripped my comm device from his hand.
“Clayton, I made it quite clear to you that we’re through.” As we neared my car in the twilight shade, I clicked the video off and shoved my comm in my coat pocket. “I don’t know what games you’re playing, but you need to listen to me well. I don’t want to be with you anymore. We are done.”
Lightning fast, he gripped my face from underneath, palm to my chin, fingers clenching my jaw. I yelped. He shoved me back against the car and locked me in place with his legs outside mine. Rage contorted his face into strained lines. Something sinister glinted in his eyes. I’d seen his outbursts of temper before, but not like this.
“Now, you listen to me,” he grated, face close, breath hot. “I don’t give a fuck what you think. We’re not done till I say we’re done. I’ve invested five months into you, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re as good as married.”
“You’re out of your mind. I’d never marry you. How could you even think I would after I saw you screwing that girl?”
“If you’d put out, Ella, I wouldn’t have had to resort to screwing that girl. It’s your fault, really.”
“You’re disgusting.”
His hand shifted, thumb and forefinger pressing into the hollow where my jaw met my neck. His other held my should
er hard against the car.
“What’s suddenly changed your mind? You puttin’ out for Nightwing now? Is that it?”
“Let go of me.”
“Not until you understand this situation more clearly. So let me explain it to you.” His hold on my throat loosened, caressing down almost lovingly in a sick contradiction of reality. “I’m still climbing the ladder in my father’s business, and I need a wife to host the right parties with all the right people in order to climb higher. You’ve got what I want in a wife. You look good, which makes me look good. Family connections. Money. And you’re loyal. When we’re married, I won’t have to worry about you fucking around on me and making a fool out of me behind my back.”
“Loyalty is important to you? You’re such a hypocrite,” I said, anger flaring in my chest. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in the world.”
“I don’t think you appreciate what’s going on here. You could make me lose—” He abruptly grit his teeth, biting off what he was about to say.
“What? I could make you lose what?”
“My father has agreed that you’re the perfect woman to bear the next generation of Kerrington heirs. He admires your family lineage, which is of the highest caliber in the aristocracy, despite your mother’s shame. He has decreed that you are the one. So you will be.”
I shoved him hard, backing him up a few inches. “What are you talking about ‘my mother’s shame’? And I can guarantee you I will never be the one to bear your children.”
A malevolence like I’d never seen swept over his features, pooling in his eyes.
“I know a little secret.” He leaned close to my ear, pressing my body against the car. “I know a Morgon raped your mother when she was in college.”
My breath hitched. I’d known the haunted look in her eyes and her unnatural fear of Morgon men might be from something this dark, but I never thought to hear the nightmare confirmed by someone like him.
“Yeah, my dad told me all about it. Said she dropped out of college, fell out of society, and would’ve faded to nothing if your dad hadn’t taken pity and married her. Even though your mother is sullied, dear old dad says your bloodline is clean and pure.”
I hauled my arm back and slapped him across the face. “That’s a lie.”
He grabbed my wrists, squeezing hard, still whispering in my ear. “It’s true. And you know it. Now, let’s imagine how devastated your mom will be when she sees that video. Let’s also imagine how it’ll break her heart when she hears that you’ve been sleeping around with dozens of Morgons, her precious princess spoiled by those she fears and hates most.”
“I haven’t! I wouldn’t!”
“She’d believe me, and I have some very convincing friends in high places.”
Tears stung my eyes.
He smiled. “Now let’s further imagine that along with your whoring around the Morgon district, the truth leaks out that your mother was raped long ago. And now here you are breaking your mother’s heart and bringing more shame on the entire family.”
“You wouldn’t.” I couldn’t keep the tears from falling, and he smiled.
“I would. And I will. The papers love a scandal, especially ones about the fall of someone so seemingly angelic as you are.”
“Don’t you think that would ruin your reputation, too? Tarnish your lofty goals of climbing the ladder?”
“I’m giving you a choice, Ella. Choose me or your whole family will fall. I’ll have no use for you if you refuse.”
“I hate you.”
He grinned, but it faltered when his eyes landed on my collar. He let go of one wrist and pulled down the coat collar covering my lower neck. My pulse raced, knowing that he stared at the mark Paxon had left on my skin. The make-up only partially concealed the bruise.
“You are fucking Nightwing, aren’t you?” Rage and venom in his voice.
“It’s none of your damn business, Clayton. Now, let—”
Someone interrupted from behind. “Pardon me, Ms. Barrow, but is everything alright?”
Our gardener, Simms, an older but stalwart fellow, looked capable enough to knock Clayton’s head off with the hoe in his hand. Clayton dropped his hold on me and backed away a few inches.
“We’re fine, Simms, thank you. Mr. Kerrington was just leaving.”
Before either could manage a word, I shoved Clayton away from my car door, hopped inside, locked it, and zoomed down the long drive. Glancing in my rearview, Clayton’s silhouette lingered in the shadows where I’d left him, watching me go. A heavier weight, the darkness of fear, hovered in my heart as I headed out on my first date with Paxon Nightwing.
Chapter 8
Thankfully, the drive to the address Paxon had given me was long enough for a good cry, for the redness to fade, and for the tears to dry. The map on my car comm led me north of the city along a rural road. When I arrived at a tall, wrought-iron gate, I pushed on a panel at the entrance. The door swung open without anyone questioning me via the speaker.
The long driveway wound through a dense woodland, finally opening up to several cleared acres and a sprawling mansion—no, a castle at the end of the path. The driveway circled around a fountain where the statue of a Morgon woman bathed herself at the center. I parked along the side, powdered my face one more time in the mirror, especially under my eyes, and straightened myself before stepping up to the door. Before I could knock, the door swung open.
A man dressed in formal black, typical of household servants, held the door open and bowed. “Ms. Barrow. You’re expected.”
“Oh. Um, thank you.”
Walking across the threshold, I heard the steady stride of Paxon crossing the stone foyer to greet me. When he was within fifteen feet, his blithe expression fell into something akin to hostility.
The servant closed the door and disappeared as Paxon made his way to me, eyes darkening as he came.
“Hi.” I smiled. Or tried to.
“Why do I smell him on you?”
“Um, I’m sorry. Who?”
“Kerrington. His scent is on your skin. Why?”
No anger vibrated in his tone, though it shone in his eyes.
“He dropped off my comm device. I left it in his car that night at Spire Maiden.”
He stepped within inches without laying one finger on me. The distance felt fathoms deep.
“That doesn’t explain why his scent is all over you. It doesn’t linger that way with a passing touch, Ella.”
“You can tell that? I hadn’t realized a Morgon’s sense of smell was so strong.”
Okay. That remark was an obvious diversion. It didn’t work. His dark gaze held me, waiting, none too patiently.
Clearing my throat, my gaze fell to my fingers where I fumbled with a button on my coat. “He wasn’t happy about the break-up. He didn’t, I mean, he wanted to try again. But I…” I glanced up, then down again. “I told him we were through.”
All true. Of course, I had omitted that he not only planned to ruin my reputation, but also bring shame on my whole family in a public forum if I didn’t agree to go back to him. I had to figure a way out. I couldn’t tell Paxon all of that horrible history about my mother and what Clayton planned to do. It was too shameful. Besides, Paxon might do something rash and jeopardize himself. I couldn’t take the risk of getting him involved in my mess.
Paxon’s finger lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. He’d done this before when I had tried to avoid him. “Did he hurt you?
“No.”
“Is that the truth?”
“Yes.”
“The whole truth?”
No response. I bit my lip. A frustrated sigh leaked out of him. Both his hands cupped my face with reverence and tenderness. I rested my hands on the thin fabric of his chocolate-brown sweater, the exact shade of his imploring eyes.
“Ella. Don’t you trust me?”
“Trust you? Of course, I do.”
His thumb stroked my cheek. I curled my fingers over his wrists.
“It’s okay. He just needed to hear one more time that there’s nothing more between us. Honestly, there never really was. He was a little…physical, but I could handle it. And now he knows we’re through.”
All true.
I saw a flash of gold before Paxon closed his eyes. His jaw tightened. He sucked a deep breath in, then out, opening his eyes after a long minute. Dark, warm brown.
“If he gives you any more trouble, promise me you’ll call me, you’ll tell me.”
“Of course.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
I tiptoed up and met his lips. Reluctant at first, rigid from anger, he then opened for me. The kiss went from gentle to frenzied in three seconds. I’d initiated, but I wasn’t in control now. Paxon showed me who was master here, and it certainly wasn’t me. He pulled me into his arms, firming his mouth harder against mine. When our lips parted, we were both out of breath.
“God, Ella. You’re driving me mad.”
I remained fixed on his lips, loving the way they tilted in the sexiest way when he spoke. “Ditto.”
He chuckled, releasing me with slow reluctance.
“Come on. I want you to meet my parents before we go.”
“Your parents?”
“Yes.” He tightened his grip on my hand as he led me swiftly along.
He guided me down the high-ceilinged corridor toward an open terrace. I could finally admire the way his casual sweater molded perfectly to his fine physique. His loose-fitting dark denim did nothing to disguise his powerful legs. This casually dressed Paxon had helped me relax, but now he wanted me to meet his parents?
“Do you live here?”
“I stay here sometimes, but I have another place.” His mouth quirked to one side.
Paxon was not what I’d thought of him before. My first impression had been of a man who owned a room with his swagger and charm and dominant will. This all remained true, but since then I’d discovered another layer where this sexy-as-sin Morgon held his parents in high esteem and could melt a girl with sweet tenderness. I wanted to reach up and hug him, but I bit my lip and faced forward instead.
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