AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Guarding her. Like a museum piece. Was that all she was to Quill? She wanted to be more. She couldn’t believe she actually wanted to be in his bed. He’d built it up like some coveted sign of status. And she’d already bitten into that bait.
Marcus picked the keys up off the ground and unlocked the cuffs holding her to the column. She fell into his arms when the metal sprang open, unable to support her own weight anymore. He unlocked her ankles and scooped her up, extracting a hiss of pain from her as his arms pressed into the whip marks on her back. He didn’t comment on her discomfort as he carried her out a side door. Behind this door was a short hallway with another door at the end.
It was a bathroom. Though that was a mild way to describe a room containing a large dressing area and bench, a glassed-in shower, toilet, hot tub big enough for multiple people, and a counter that ran the full length of one wall and contained dual sinks. Quill didn’t know how to do anything moderately.
Marcus helped her into a terrycloth robe and guided her to the bench to sit while he filled the tub. He poured fragrant oils into the bath. The scent she recognized immediately was lavender. Then he added a few large scoops of bath salts—no doubt of the therapeutic variety—to the bubbling water.
When the tub was full, he guided her to sit on the edge. “Tell me if you think this is too hot.”
Saskia’s hand sank beneath the water. She shook her head. “I think it’s okay.”
“Sir,” he said, firmly.
When her eyes met his, they were intense like Quill’s had been—just intense in a different way.
“Y-yes, sir.”
He nodded and helped her into the tub. Saskia whimpered when the hot water touched her back.
“You okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
The therapeutic salts made her back tingle, but it only took a moment for the feeling to become soothing. Saskia looked down to find the water had turned the palest shade of pink.
“H-he made me bleed?”
She should have run from him. She never should have let his identity trip her up. What was different from before when he’d been Lachlan to her? Nothing. In fact, it was worse than she imagined it would be if Lachlan ever got her into his bed. Because at least in those paranoid daydreams, it had been horrifying, but vanilla and violence-free.
“It’s not bad,” Marcus said. “He barely broke the skin. Was it a punishment?”
Saskia nodded. But she wasn’t sure anymore. It had started that way. She wasn’t sure what it had become in the end. It had become a frenetic creative feeding frenzy, while she’d been offered up to appease some unseen god of artistic inspiration. In return for this sacrifice, a painting had been born. Judging from Quill’s satisfied expression as he’d studied the finished piece, the gods must have been pleased with the offering.
“Then that’s why. If you obey him, it won’t be like this. It will be intense, but not like this.”
How could he know that?
How many women had Marcus watched Quill do this to? How could he keep getting away with it? If they were all like her with insipid art crushes, it couldn’t have been too difficult. But Quill was demented if he thought she’d beg for him to fuck her after what he’d done in there. The arrogance of thinking she’d actually grovel and plead for him to be inside her was unbelievable.
Yet even the idea of doing that already made a dull throbbing start between her legs.
Marcus sat on the bench and let her soak until the water grew cool. He remained silent and distant, neither touching her, nor leering. She found she was grateful for the space, even if he wouldn’t give her any real privacy. When the water turned cool, he pulled the drain and helped her stand, then wrapped her in the terrycloth and took her back out through the gallery to the studio.
He ripped away the plastic covering one of the chaise lounges.
“Take the robe off and lie on your stomach,” he said. When she hesitated, he added, “I’m just going to put something on your back. Something to soothe it. Don’t be afraid.”
The late afternoon sun streamed in through the glass. If not for the trees and fence, she might have felt more exposed. Saskia glanced up to find more cameras hovering above. They were attached along the metal strips in between the panes of glass, with wires that ran the full length and down to the ground, disappearing behind some art supplies.
Was Quill watching? He no doubt had the entire building wired for his voyeuristic pleasure.
Marcus was patient while she worked through the anxieties in her head. It seemed as if he would wait forever—however long it took—for her compliance. Meanwhile, Quill’s savage intensity would have meant obey now or pay the price. Was Marcus meant to warm her up for Quill?
After a long mental back and forth, she took the robe off and lay across the chaise—convincing herself this was somehow a free choice. Marcus sat next to her and began to rub a salve on her back. It was cooling and almost immediately drained the rest of the sting away.
“Stay here.” He rose and left her alone in the bright, sunlit studio.
She could hear him a few yards away in the gallery as he sorted through her things. When he returned, he held a short, white cotton nightgown. One of her favorites. When she’d bought it, she’d felt silly without a man to share it with. But it hadn’t been over-the-top sexy and was comfortable on humid Venice nights. Still, it was a bit sheer. It was sexy in thatplaying at innocenceway. But once the gown was draped over a female form, it was impossible to keep believing the virginal ruse.
