AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Taylor poured the rest of the drinks and slid Marx’s across the counter with a smile she didn’t feel. “I also have some biscuits in the oven, sir. If you will please excuse me, I need to finish setting the table.”
His voice followed her into the next room, its cavernous boom rattling clear down to the pit of her stomach: “Is it just me or is the little spitfire boasting a bit of an attitude tonight?”
“It’s just you,” Sebastian replied stiffly. “She’s trying to get my dinner on the table. Guest or not, pleasing me is still her top priority, Marx. Not entertaining you.”
The director’s deep laugh bowled through her system, leaving her chilled.
“Touché. Every man should be the king of his own castle, even if only for a night.”
It wasn’t amusement riding the thundering notes of his voice, or even acceptance. It was something dark and challenging. Resisting the urge to rub the gooseflesh on her arms down, Taylor straightened the napkins and inspected the table. She was about to make her way back into the kitchen when a box sailed through the air in her direction. Catching it, she turned the package in her hands, her brow gathering in confusion.
“Put those away, and next time grab them yourself when you’re at the store. It’s not my job to get them, and I don’t appreciate the inconvenience.”
The irritation in Sebastian’s tone only threw her off more. Glancing up, she found Marx leaned against the doorway, his eyes dark and brooding as he took in the exchange. Something was off, she just couldn’t figure out what. He was watching them, inspecting everything, and waiting. But for what?
Unease crawled down her spine, making her shiver as Taylor tried to play along. “Yes, Sebastian. I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No it won’t,” he agreed. “Go do as you were told. We will address the issue later.”
She faltered as Marx’s looming shadow fell over her. His wide body blocked her path, and his slow chuckle felt like ice creeping through her veins.
“Don’t hold back on my behalf,” he said, trailing his hand across the top of the dining room table. The heavy silver rings circling his fingers glinted ominously in the candlelight. “Now is a good of a time as any, Sebastian. Humans are like puppies. You don’t want to wait to discipline them or they won’t remember what they’re being punished for. Corrective actions should be swift and consistent.”
Her lungs collapsed. Unable to help it, her eyes darted to Sebastian in a silent plea. If he noticed, he did a good job of not showing it. His dimples deepened in a tight smile.
“I assure you, it will be dealt with, but now is not the time,” he said, setting his tea down. “Taylor’s discipline is a personal matter between the two of us. It’s not a public spectacle for your entertainment, Marx.”
“Perhaps not, Baas. But it is meant for your benefit.”
Sebastian’s pale shamrock glare swung her way. “Put the goddamn box away now or you won’t sit for a month!”
Taylor startled at the harsh bark aimed in her direction. He never yelled and the sound was enough to render her numb. Fumbling the box, she scrambled around Marx in a beeline for the half-bath off the kitchen. Her heart pounded so hard, she couldn’t hear over the deafening roar of blood in her ears. After tossing the tampons under the sink, she skidded to her knees and hugged the toilet. Resting her head on her forearms, she drew a shaky breath and prayed for her stomach to calm down.
“Get up.”
She jumped at the cold civility in Sebastian’s voice. Before she had a chance to respond, he pushed his way into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him with enough force to rattle her teeth. The blood drained from her face when he stepped closer. Shaking, she pressed closer to the wall in an attempt to flatten against it.
“Please…” she choked.
“Shh,” he warned, crouching down beside her. Worry clouded his eyes as he stroked a tender thumb over her brow. Tipping her face toward his, he kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what, remember that.”
Before she could respond, he rocked to his feet and batted the soap dispenser off the sink. The decorative blown glass hit the wall mere inches beside her and shattered. Both noise and action wrung a startled cry from her lips as Sebastian jerked her to her feet without warning.
“Are you trying to embarrass me, Taylor?” he asked, loud enough that Marx surely heard it. “Get out there, get the food on the table, and straighten your ass up!”
She winced as he jerked the door open and sent her staggering into the kitchen on a shove. Marx nodded in approval as Sebastian stepped out behind her. She knew he was only trying to protect them both the best way he knew how, but it didn’t make the experience any less terrifying.
Her heart threatened to burst when she scented the air. A faint burning smell was already wafting from the oven, and the director was surveying the contents in the skillet with a look of dissatisfaction. His broad features screwed into a tight grimace. Taylor’s eyes widened as he snatched the skillet off the burner and tossed the thing, contents and all, into the soapy water she’d used to rinse the prep dishes. Sebastian’s jaw corded—a sharp contrast to hers, which hung open in disbelief.
“Why did you do that?” she asked in a choked whisper.
She wished she hadn’t when both men pinned her with a glare capable of stripping paint.
“Shut your mouth, Taylor. I don’t want to hear another word out of you tonight. Is that clear?” Sebastian asked.
She wrung her hands with a mute nod, watching as he crossed the kitchen and jerked open the oven door. He snagged the mitt off the counter and thrust it in Marx’s direction.
“The biscuits were burning, not everything else but here, while you’re at it, you might as well finish. Who the hell wants to eat?” he snapped.
“That wasn’t food. It was slop. It’s what you get when you shack up with some worthless truck stop waitress. You were supposed to train the girl and uphold her to a certain set of standards, not fall into disrepair beside her. I suggest you get your damn priorities straight and for God’s sake teach her to be useful somewhere besides the bedroom.”
Lowering her head, Taylor tried to ignore the sting of the big man’s words, but they cut deep. As much as she wanted to lash out at him and ask what gave him the right to be so judgmental and cruel, she knew it wouldn’t be wise. Not just for her sake, but for Sebastian’s as well. This wasn’t just any man. It was his boss, and being in charge of SKALS, he was quite possibly one of the most dangerous men in the world. Her pride wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause.
“I’m terribly sorry, Marx, sir. I’ll fix something else.”
“No.”
She glanced up when Sebastian uttered the single, soft word from across the kitchen.
“No,” he repeated with a stern shake of his head. “Don’t you dare apologize, Taylor. You did the best you could with what you had to work with. I’m the one who sets the standards in this house, and if Marx has an issue with them, he can take them up with me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
The director’s mouth quirked. His mammoth shoulders jerked as he folded his arms across the broad expanse of his chest. The buttons on the front of his uniform tilted with the strain. “Is that a fact, Sebastian? You’re taking your whore’s side over mine?”
Shutting the oven with one hand, he raked the other through his hair and gave a humorless laugh. “If that’s the way you choose to see it, who am I to argue?”
“Who indeed,” Marx repeated. “I told you this little game of house was going to end.”
Taylor took an uncertain step back as he whirled on her, one of his huge bear-sized paws extending in her direction.
“Give me the ring.”
She shook her head in denial. Cradling her hand against her chest, she took another step back. “No.”
“It wasn’t an option, Miss McAvay. Give me the ring, or I will drag you out of here and cut the damn thing off, fin
ger and all.”
Words failed her and a jolt of raw terror zapped her system. She had no doubt the man meant what he said, but her heart reacted on its own accord. Clenching her hands tight, she balled them under her chin. The big man’s body seemed to tighten and curl in on itself, and for one petrifying moment, she was sure he was going to launch and make good on his threats.
The chilling click of a safety broke the silence. Her breath hitched as she caught sight of Sebastian’s gun. Marx’s spine snapped straight and he froze.
“Take one more step toward her and I will blow your fucking head off. Believe me, after the week I’ve had, you do not want to give me a reason. Get away from her right now and get the hell out of my house,” Sebastian warned in a menacing growl.
“Excuse me?” Marx asked. Seeming to regain some of his confidence and composure, he turned to confront the brushed chrome pistol with a raised brow.
“You heard me. Get your keys, grab your coat and shoes, and get off my property before I have security escort you out in pieces.”
The director’s broad shoulders jerked. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are talking to, but I would think very carefully if I were you. Proceed and I promise you, you will regret this decision.”
Sebastian offered a cold smile that fell short of easing the savage gleam in his eyes. “What’s that you always say?” he asked with a questioning tilt of his head. “Maybe someday, Marx. But today is not that day. Now move.”
