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“Good girl,” I drawl as she stalks toward the doorway.
“Fuck! You’re such an ass!” she mutters. I’m pretty sure she can hear me chuckle as she storms off down the hallway. Part of me wants to chase after her – to claim what she so openly offered me.
“Goddamnit,” I mutter, clenching my fists at my sides. My past is closing in on me, threatening to shatter the fragile peace I’ve built here for Nikolai. And now this fucking woman is unsettling that peace too.
But who can blame her. After all, I was the one who made her stay against her will. Maybe it is best if she leaves. Maybe, in the morning, I’ll find her room empty.
And I won’t go after her.
Chapter 14
Scarlett
I stride away from the kitchen feeling completely unsettled.
That was not supposed to happen. Yet still, I can’t stop thinking about how his lips felt against mine. How his touch made me burn. The whole battle of wills between us is ridiculous, childish, yet… why the hell does it feel so right?
“He said you could leave!” I tell myself as I head into my bedroom and shut the door behind me.
Bullshit.
He was toying with you.
Or was he? God, the man’s so damned impossible! I can’t get a read on him. And this fucking connection we seem to have is going to do my head in.
I can’t let him touch me again. Easier said than done, when I melt whenever he’s near me. Like I lose control over my body.
Shit, fuck, shit!
I’m still agitated as I slide into bed and pull the covers over me. The shadows stretch across the room and I keep getting the uncomfortable feeling that I’m being watched. I squint up at the ceiling and try to make out shapes in the darkness. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were cameras up there. Anton seems the type to have a high-tech security system in place.
But in my bedroom?
“Hey! Are you watching me?” I say into the silence.
For Pete’s sake, Scarlett.
Why would he be watching you?
Because maybe it was all a test – all that talk of me being free to go. Maybe he’s waiting to see if I pack my bags and run so he can grab me the minute I walk out the door.
And then what?
Perhaps another of those spankings? That really should not appeal as much as it does.
Maybe worse, Scarlett!
The man’s dangerous.
I pull a pillow over my head and squeeze my eyes shut. It doesn’t work, and I toss and turn until the Sun starts to come up. Finally, I drift off into a fitful sleep, then wake up a couple of hours later, feeling groggy and nauseous. My mouth is chalky.
“Serves you right for drinking milk in the middle of the night,” I chastise myself as I get up and trudge to the bathroom adjoining my bedroom. I splash my face and grimace at my reflection. My eyes are shadowed and my skin looks sallow.
“You look like death warmed over,” I tell my reflection. My stomach lurches and I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep from doubling over as a wave of nausea floods me.
What the hell?
Where did this come from?
