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“Yes. The man who raised me and the man who nearly died tonight.”
“Of his own choice.” De La Rosa drops my hand and places his foot on the first step that leads to the higher levels just as an aging woman with tight gray curls and a serene smile comes out of a side door. She’s wearing a navy blue dress and matching flats. A white apron is tied around her cinched middle. Fine creases etch into soft skin along the eyes and stress lines litter her forehead. I would have them too if I worked for a man like De La Rosa.
“Sir, will the emerald suite be suitable for your guest?”
The older woman joins us by the stairs and moves up to stand at eye level with my captor, owner, boss. Whatever he is to me now.
“Mabel. Yes. That will be fine. Show our guest her suite.”
“Very well. This way, miss.” She doesn’t come off as cold, but there is a tired energy about her that tells me she’s ready for the day to end. Good. So am I. I can fight my way out of here tomorrow. Right now, I can’t hold an argument with a cardboard box.
“Thank you,” I offer as she signals for me to fall in behind her. Behind me, there’s a snort I choose to ignore as I climb the stairs behind Mabel.
We turn left at the top of the stairs and I’m silently led to a room down a wide corridor with end tables here and there adorned with more roses. All the doors along the way are shut so I can’t catch peeks inside.
“This is your suite.” Mabel slides a gold key into the lock and reaches in, flipping on the light to reveal a room decorated in deep royal greens and blues in the glow of corner lamps. If it isn’t a dark jewel color, it is a bright gleaming gold.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is. This is the Queen’s suite.” Mabel walks to the bed and turns down the heavy duvet and sheets to reveal snow white cotton beneath a sea of emerald green. The same color as my eyes.
“Queen suite? As in De La Rosa is married?” My heart drops to thud against the perfectly polished wood flooring.
Mabel holds a hand up, her lips ready to move when we are both startled silent.
“That will be all, Mabel.”
I jump, grabbing the edge of the bed for balance. I didn’t realize he was behind me, much less in the room with us.
Flushed, I turn around to find him drinking in all my angles. Mabel drops her chin to her chest and casts her gaze to the floor between the three of us.
“Yes, sir. Would you like me to bring up a couple of platters for the two of you?”
“Not for me. Thank you. I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Okay.” Mabel moves toward the door, but before she gets too far from me, I reach out and take her hands in mine. “Thank you, Mabel.” I give her hands a squeeze before she can escape back down the hallway and into some other distant part of the house.
“Your welcome, ma’am. Welcome to De La Rosa mansion.”
With that, I am left alone with the Beast once again.
She reminds me of the grandma in all the old T.V. shows my dad loves. Kind-hearted and sweet to the core.
“If you need anything, I’m across the hall.” Instead of leaving me, De La Rosa walks across the room and takes the edges of the curtains in hand. He flings them open to reveal an unending garden bathed in silver light. He moves to a switch on the wall near the window and turns on two two more lights–crystal chandeliers overhead. One near the bed and another over a sitting area near a large window with a seat and several pillows adorning the large space.
It’s all beautiful, and it would be so easy to get lost in the lavish surroundings. I come from a small dingy apartment life where, if anything got washed, organized or polished, I did it. My father was working or sleeping. Not that we didn’t have money, but my father didn’t believe in spending it on frivolous things when it could go toward sending me to art school in Europe.
De La Rosa walks toward me with his lips tilted into a half frown, half scowl. Dark brows pinch tight and from this angle, his scars look deeper. To me, he looks tortured to the soul and appears unapproachable. But when he reaches me where I stand at the edge of the bed and brushes the hair from my face, he’s gentle. He takes the time to sweep the hair behind my shoulder before he wraps an arm around my waist. He’s not in the least bit shy about the scars. If anything, he suffers from too much confidence.
My eyes grow wide. I look at him absolutely stunned by his audacity. “What are you doing?”
He mumbles something under his breath. I only catch the hint of a few words that sound like possess and hunger. The masculine throat groan tells me more than any words. So do his roaming hands.
“De La Rosa?”
“I’m touching what I own.” He leans in and brushes the tip of his nose up the soft curve of my cheek. His lips are gentle, as are his hands when they come around and settle over my lower back.
With no other place to put my hands, I settle them over his large shoulders.
