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Her hands roll into fists at her sides. “If you ever try to break into my personal things again, I’ll kill you.”
I recoil from her words and something in her expression shifts. Like she doesn’t know what to do.
She drops her gaze to the floor and bites her lower lip as if she’s mulling something over. “Come.”
“Where?”
“I know what it’s like to feel like a helpless kid. I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen to you.”
13
SKYE
I’ve been here three days now, and, still, not a single clue as to where Clive Maxton could be hiding. And I’ve searched every day to the best of my ability. Arran leaves. I explore.
If he’s seen any of it through the many cameras he claims there are, nothing’s been mentioned. Or maybe he’s not even watching me at all because he’s that sure there’s nothing to find.
“How long will you be today?” I ask him, waiting lazily in bed as he gets dressed.
“Only a few hours. I’m going to check on some of my other businesses, then straight back.” He wraps a gold-colored tie around his neck and begins to work on the knot.
Fuck me, there’s just something about him that draws me in, and I can’t stop staring. What is it about a man putting on a tie that’s so sexy? Or is it just him?
I flip onto my back and peer at the ceiling, hating that I like anything about him. “You have other businesses?”
“Investing in different companies is smart. If one goes down, you always have a source of income.”
“That is smart,” I say more to myself than him.
He appears in my peripheral, looking at me like I’m a juicy piece of steak. “I have to go.” He tugs the blanket down to my knees, and his gaze darkens several shades. “There’s no time for breakfast now, but when I come home, I want you in my mouth.”
With the tip of his finger, he traces the line of my pussy as he bends down to suck on a nipple. I inhale sharply as he teases me, knowing full well that he’s going to get me hot and wet.
But that’s his point. To leave me in a tortured state. Something he confirms when he orders in a deep, commanding tone, “Do not touch yourself. I’ll know it if you do. When I get home, you’re going to come on my tongue.”
I nod, unable to speak through my dry mouth.
It takes me a while to calm enough to get out of bed. When I do, it’s straight to the shower. The water is already warm when I turn on the faucet, and steam instantly builds. I step inside, letting the hot jets hit my back, and I’m greeted by the sight of the happy orchids. Arran cared for them this morning. All of the dead parts have been snipped away, and they’ve even been rotated and moved closer to the window.
Strange man. Ruthless and cruel yet has the capability of being caring and gentle.
Ugh. That drives me insane. It would be so much easier if he were awful all the way around. If he didn’t love his sister so fiercely or care for delicate flowers or buy me nice clothes. If he didn’t make me burn like a wick doused in lighter fluid.
When I get home, you’re going to come on my tongue.
Wishing I could scrape the sound of his words out of my head, I scrub my scalp extra hard. It doesn’t work. But the temptation of playing with myself isn’t even there, not when I know he’ll return soon enough, and then he’ll torture me the way that makes me a greater slave to him than anything else.
I should be ashamed, wanting the enemy like I do. Daddy probably reallyisrolling in his grave—as Arran intends every time he touches me—horrified that his own daughter is betraying him over and over again.
I dress in a pink cotton shirt and blue knee-length skirt and am heading downstairs when, suddenly, I get the urge to run. To break out of this prison and go as hard and fast as I can. See how far I can get without getting a bullet to the back of my head.
The front door looms ahead of me as I reach the bottom of the stairs. It wouldn’t be so difficult to leave. Arran said I could anytime I chose. His guards won’t stop me. The prison walls are of my own making, after all.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m at the door, turning the knob and pulling. Charles, who’s sitting at the long desk along with two other men, glances up at me from his cell phone.
“Good morning, Miss Cameron.”
I step into the vestibule with them. They all watch me with friendly smiles. “Good morning.” I move farther, to the door that leads straight onto Delancey Street. Swallowing nervously, I grab the handle but don’t pull.
