“I’m not,” he replies, placing kisses on my lids, nose, and mouth. “I won’t ever set you free because I’m a selfish man with selfish desires where you’re concerned.” He gets out of bed, enters the ensuite bathroom, and returns with a bowl of soapy water and a cloth.
My chest warms as he spends long moments stroking the damp cloth through my tender folds until he’s satisfied I’m clean, and then he wipes my face, his eyes on the task as he says, “While I’m a villain in my own right, I promise I’ll never lay a hand on you unless you beg me to.”
I duck my head to hide my blushing cheeks. His words shouldn’t make me want to smile, but they do. “What will Lauren do while she’s here?”
“Anything she wants.” The wet cloth trails down the curve of my chin and throat. “Maybe she wants to spend her days sunbathing in front of the pool or take up pottery.”
I smile despite myself. “I don’t think she’s into pottery.”
After placing the bowl on the floor, he crawls beside me and pulls me into his arms. “I don’t care what she does, as long as you’re happy.”
Dammit. Why does he have to be so sweet when he wants to be?
I snuggle closer, breathing in his earthy scent, and release a content sigh.
My pulse soon slows to a gentle thud, and I kiss the space above his heart, feeling it pound beneath my lips. “Thank you for what you did today.”
His muscles seem to relax, and he holds me tighter. “Sleep, or you’ll be too tired to take my cock tomorrow.”
Aweek passes. Lauren settles into her new environment. Darian lets us go shopping for new clothes without a fight much to my surprise and orders his driver to take us for days out to various places as if we’re dogs in need of walks. I almost feel sorry for him for getting stuck with us when he’s used to being Darian’s shadow, but then I remember that every move I make gets reported to his boss. I’m not used to looser reigns, but Darian seems more relaxed lately. He stays out of my way for most of the time, except when we fuck. He seeks me out at least once a day to eat me out between meetings or whatever planned shady business is on the agenda.
At night, he sneaks into my room and spends hours fucking me into oblivion before he leaves again, like a shadow. I always wake up alone, sore, and with an uncharacteristic heartache, wishing I could separate my feelings for him from the reason I’m here, which is my father’s disappearance. I can’t let myself forget my reasons, but it’s becoming harder and harder to remember why it matters.
Does it even matter? Yes. It does. The Exodus is behind my family’s torment.
“So, what do you think of this dress?” Lauren asks, parting the curtain in the changing room to show me the ballgown she has tried on.
The Bishop is holding a masked fundraiser over the weekend. Another posh affair with flowing alcohol and bursting wallets. Darian handed me a black card and told me to have fun.
Fun?
I don’t even know the meaning of the word anymore.
“Is it too much?”
Torn from my thoughts, I shake my head, gesturing to the wine-red bodice. “It’s nice.”
“Nice?” Lauren flicks her hair off her shoulder. “I don’t want nice. I want chin-on-the-floor breathtaking. Since I’m in this position, I might as well make the most of it and milk your husband’s bank account.”
I think the look on my face says it all, because she laughs and escapes behind the curtain. The sound of the zipper fills the room. “Can you ask them to get me the forest green dress? The one near the window display?”
“Sure.” I stand from the bench and exit the changing area.
After asking the assistant to help Lauren with the green dress, I browse the racks for a dress for myself. I don’t need a new one since Darian had his Pawns fill my wardrobe with everything I could possibly need the night I entered his home.
“That’s not weird at all,” I mutter to myself as I pause in front of a golden dress with a bejeweled bodice.
“You’re hard to catch alone,” a deep voice breathes near my ear, and I spin around, my heart pounding at the sight of Mr. Beaumont.
He towers over me in freshly pressed blue pants and a white shirt. The two top buttons are undone to reveal a smattering of dark chest hair, and his chestnut hair has been swept back.
“Mr. Beaumont. What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been trying to get a moment of your time, but that husband of yours always has a tail on your end.” He looks over my shoulder toward the changing area. “But not for now.” When his eyes return to me, they flicker with something cold and cruel.
I step back against the dress rail. “You should leave.”
“I think we made a deal.”
