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I wouldn’t be here much longer.
I hadn’t had time to think about what was going on between Bones and me. I bartered for my freedom by fucking him, and he vowed to make me come.
I did everything I could to prove him wrong. I didn’t want that man to be right. I didn’t want to be the victim of a kidnapping and then enjoy my tormentor. I didn’t think it was possible to get wet for a man who held a knife to my throat.
But I wasn’t wet—I was soaked.
It was humiliating.
It made me hate him more.
I despised his arrogance. I despised his power. He moved between my legs that morning and helped himself like I was a toy rather than a person. He got right to the point and fucked me harder than he did the night before.
And to make it worse, I came again.
Goddammit.
I tried to make myself feel better by convincing myself I was subjected to my anatomy. If you rubbed anything the right way, magic would happen. But there was no denying I’d never come that hard in my life. I’d never had a bigger man inside me, a man who could stretch me to maximum capacity. Not only did he have the right tools, but he knew how to use them. I’d dated nice guys, even hot guys. There was chemistry and excitement. There was good sex at my apartment.
But nothing compared to that.
Why did the best sex of my life have to happen with my mortal enemy?
With the man my family had a never-ending blood war with?
Why didn’t I just take a different route home?
I’d only been there for a few days, so I hadn’t explored the house. We were in a mansion on the hillside of a snowy mountain. All the windows showed the breathtaking view of the snow. I couldn’t see the lake from up here because we were too high up.
I didn’t see an escape route. Even if I could steal one of the cars from the garage, driving in the terrain would be tricky. I hardly drove in the snow, and since I had to drive slowly, I probably wouldn’t make it far before he caught up with me.
Richard appeared around the corner, a casual butler that was nothing like Lars, the man who had been serving my family since my father was young. Richard didn’t have the same curt mannerisms as Lars, and he was always in jeans. “Vanessa, Bones wants you to join him for dinner.”
“Address me as Ms. Barsetti.” I wasn’t getting any respect around here, and now I needed to demand it.
Richard’s expression didn’t change at my request. “Alright. Dinner is served. Will you be joining him?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He shrugged. “You could say no, and I’ll report that to him. And then he’ll tell me to come get you again. If you refuse then, he’ll get angry and come after you himself…so you have a choice. But no matter what your choice is, you’ll end up in the same place. But perhaps it’ll make you feel better because you’ll feel like you had a say in the matter…even though you never really did.”
The thought was depressing. As long as I was in this house, I was subjected to the desires of this psychopath. I didn’t have any rights, and my attitude seemed to turn him on even more.
Because he was a freak.
“So…” Richard brought his hands together at his waist. “How do you want to do this?”
I was hungry, so putting up a fight right now didn’t sound that appealing. “What’s for dinner?”
“Bones’s favorite. Steak, potatoes, and greens.”
Damn, that sounded pretty good. “Dessert?”
A small smile crept into his lips. “Blueberry pie and ice cream.”
I didn’t have to think it over long. “Alright. I’ll eat with him.” When I lived with my parents, I had the best chef in the world provide all my meals. I always ate like a queen, having culinary feasts I never really appreciated. Now that I lived alone, I ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chips. I never learned to cook, and it seemed pointless when my skills would never compare to the culinary genius that Lars possessed. I would just hire a chef myself, but I was too broke for that.
I walked into the dining room where the grand table sat. A large window took up the entire wall, and it showed a view of the mountainside. Snow was falling, hitting the piles of fresh powder softly.
Bones sat there, a short glass of scotch in front of him. The bottle beside him was half empty, telling me he already had a few glasses before I arrived. His eyes shifted to me immediately, and he stared at me with the same intensity he always wore.
Like he might kill me.
