“Well, let’s not rush, shall we?” The words drip with heavy sarcasm as I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. I just want him to spit it out so I can get back to what matters.
Ray shifts uncomfortably, then pulls out his tablet and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Is the kid in there?”
I huff sharply, narrowing my eyes into slits. He knows damn well I don’t like anyone asking about Kit. The possessive heat in my chest flares hot and dangerous.
Ray immediately raises both hands in surrender. “I just didn’t think you’d want him hearing stuff like this.”
I stare at him for a beat, jaw tight. “Give me a minute. Wait for me in the study.”
“Of course, boss.”
I shut the door in his face, the click echoing too loud in the sudden quiet. My gaze flicks back over to the bed. Kit’s curled onto his side now, facing away from me, thesheets pulled high around his smaller frame. The moment we were sharing is completely shattered, and the loss of it sits like lead in my stomach.
I strip off the robe and pull on a pair of black trousers, fastening them with quick, efficient movements. Even at this hour I refuse to be seen looking casual. Next comes the white button-down, sleeves rolled once to my forearms, so the ink peeks out. This is as relaxed as I ever get. I slip into my loafers, run a hand through my hair to push it back from my face, and round the bed.
I lower myself to the balls of my feet right in front of him, elbows resting on my knees. Kit’s eyes flutter open, just a little, those green eyes that always hit me like a fucking gut punch. Soft, tired, andstillcarrying that edge of fear he can never quite hide from me.
“Work calls,” I say quietly, the words rough but gentler than I ever use with anyone else.
He doesn’t speak. Just offers the tiniest, sleepy smile and a small nod.
I swallow the tightness in my throat. “Get some sleep.”
Another nod, nothing more.
I stand slowly, chest tightening painfully as I look down at him. Even now I can see the fear in the way he holds himself, the way his lashes lower too quickly. I wish he would just say something,anything. A soft “okay,” or “I’m not going anywhere,” or even “don’t be too long.” Just a few words to show he’s not terrified of meanymore. I hate that I put that fear there, before I even knew he existed.
I turn away before the feeling can dig any deeper, cross to the door, and pull it shut behind me with a quiet click. I hope like hell he’ll still be right there when I’m finished dealing with whatever the fuck this is.
Chapter Two
~ The Fearful Orphan ~
Kit
I lie perfectly still in the dark, the heavy sheets still wrapped tightly around me like a shield, my heart beating so loudly I’m convinced the whole house can hear it. The silence feels heavier now that Soren has gone, pressing down on my chest until every breath feels like effort. I don’t dare move for a long time, afraid that even the slightest shift will somehow summon him back or bring one of his men to the door. My body still hums with the aftershocks of what we were doing, my skin sensitive, my muscles aching in that deep, intimate way only he can cause… but the fear quickly overrides everything else.
Eventually I risk a glance at the bedside clock; the glowing red numbers read one in the morning. Soren’s already been gone for forty minutes. I let out a shaky breath and tell myself he’s going to be gone for a while longer. No one would dare disturb him in his bedroom unless it was truly important, and whatever Ray needed sounded serious enough that Soren’s entire demeanour had shifted from that intense, possessive heat to cold,lethal focus in an instant. Important business, then; the kind he never lets me anywhere near.
Slowly, I sit up, pushing the covers down just enough to free my arms. The cool air kisses my bare skin and I freeze, every nerve prickling with fresh anxiety as I stare at the thin strip of light under the door. I hold my breath, listening hard for any footsteps in the hallway, but the house remains quiet. No one should be up here in this private wing at this hour anyway. I force myself to take one slow, steadying breath, then another, until my pulse stops racing quite so violently.
Only then do I slide out of the massive bed and pad barefoot across the thick carpet toward the pile of clothes Soren had flung to the floor earlier. I’d already been wearing my pyjamas when he suddenly decided he wanted me; he’d stripped me out of them with that single-minded hunger he gets sometimes.
Lately, I’ve noticed I seem to be his favourite way to unwind after long nights dealing with whatever dangerous world he rules. I know it’s probably just a phase. Two years ago, when they first brought me here, he still slept with other people. Then one evening, after some celebration I wasn’t allowed to know anything about, he came straight tomeinstead. That was the night he basically turned my world upside down and made me realise I could feel things I’d never felt before. I’m twenty-two now, but I’ve always been the nerdy type… quiet, bookish, never had a relationship, never even sure I wanted one. Relationships always seemed too complicated and exposing. And now… well, now I’m here.
With shaky hands I pull on the long pyjama bottoms, then the matching long-sleeved top, the soft fabric a small comfort against my still-flushed skin. My feet are cold on the floor, but I don’t dare touch any of Soren’s socks. I’ve seen how meticulously organised he keeps everything… every drawer and every shelf in his wardrobe lined up with military precision. Taking something of his without permission feels like asking for trouble.
I smooth the sheets back over the bed as best I can, patting them down until the surface looks mostly untouched. I take one last brave breath, run my fingers through my messy curls in a useless attempt to tame them, and whisper to myself that it’ll be okay. I can’t be told off for going back to my own room, can I?
Heart hammering, I ease the bedroom door open as slowly as possible; thankfully it doesn’t creak. I slip out into the dimly lit hallway, the wall sconces turned down low, the way they always are at night. Soren’s office is on the first floor, and most of the night staff will be on the ground level or outside patrolling the grounds. That means the back staircase… the quieter, colder route no one uses much, should be safe enough to reach the staff quarters.
I pad silently down the hall, past the closed doors of Soren’s private rooms, my bare feet making almost no sound on the polished wood. The air grows noticeably cooler as I reach the rear staircase. I descend carefully,one hand trailing along the banister for balance, until I reach the long corridor that leads to the staff wing at the back of the estate. All the doors are shut, the silence thick and reassuring.
My own room is at the very end. I open it slowly, step inside, and close it behind me with a soft click that feels like the safest sound in the world.
I flick on my little night light, the small, warm bulb casting a gentle glow over the space. It’s barely bigger than a shoebox, but I like it that way. The small size wraps around me like a safety blanket; a large, open room would make me feel far too exposed. Here I have my single bed pushed against the wall, a tiny desk at the foot of it, and the old laptop Soren’s people gave me months ago. I taped over the microphone and camera the very first day, paranoia winning out.
I climb into the narrow bed, pull the thick covers all the way up to my chin, and curl into a tight ball, knees drawn to my chest. The familiar scent of my own pillows helps a little. I close my eyes and send up a silent hope that whatever work pulled Soren away tonight will keep him busy until morning. Maybe then he won’t notice I slipped back to my own room. Maybe tonight I can actually sleep without being pulled back into his bed and reminded exactly how much power he has over me.
