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I was a wild child, and hadn't grown out of my need for openness and freedom.
Even though his presence loomed over me, I kept going, ignoring him. I was grateful that he was pretending that nothing had happened last night.
At least he didn't wave his rejection in my face.
I’d have burned his room down if he did. The idiot hadn't taken away my lighter.
He shifted and, to my surprise, sat next to me. "Show me how to do it, and I'll help you."
I yanked the shirt from his hands. "Or you could just let me walk down the stairs to the garden."
"But what's the fun in that?" He turned to face the window. "That's what you want? To see the garden."
“Yes." I flicked the buttons of his shirt open, then twisted it tight. "I've been stuck in this room for days, not even allowed to go to any other part of the house." At his protest, I added, “Except for last night, when you either wanted to intimidate me, or use me to get information."
When he didn't answer, I glanced at him.
He was still staring towards the window. His profile was regal, with a strong jawline and sharp nose. He had a new scrape on his cheek and a slight reddening tone to it, like someone who had a large ring on his finger had hit him.
I wanted to feel bad for him, but then I thought of how he'd kissed me last night, then rejected me like trash.
I could almost still feel him on my skin, even though I’d taken a very thorough shower.
The intensity of his emotions last night had burst from him like a coiled up snake, waiting to bite.
Then he did, striking my heart so harshly that I'd found it hard to breathe.
And now, his poison was bleeding through my body, running through my veins, sinking deep into my soul.
If I was his nightmare, then he was my grim reaper, come to lead my soul to its death with his tortured look.
Gritting my teeth and tamping down on my feelings for him, I tied the next shirt, wondering if he would even let me use my impromptu ladder.
Knowing my luck, one of the knots would probably come loose and I'd fall to my death.
At least it'd be quicker than falling for a cold man such as Coulter.
"What did you find out about the notebook?" I tried to fill the silence so my thoughts wouldn’t stifle me.
He turned to me, his manner cold once more. "That's none of your business."
I crooked an eyebrow at him, undoing the buttons on another one of his shirts. "I think Marie would be severely disappointed to find out that you went back on your word."
“Marie will never know."
"Yes she will." I grinned, showing my teeth. "She's too scared of your father to trust you otherwise."
"I’m not putting you in danger," he scoffed, "you've seen what kind of sick tastes he has."
"I don't think you have a choice in the matter." Abandoning my project, I stood, straightening my spring dress. "It’s your own fault. You made the decision to use me, now you have to deal with the consequences."
"Fine," he stood, his voice dripping with bitterness, "be ready at ten p.m.” His eyes drifted to my dress, "And wear something a little more subtle."
I crossed my hands over my chest. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"For starters, you need to put on a bra.”
"Why? Too much temptation for you?"
