by Bea Paige
“Will you work for me, Rose?” he asks, and I swear if I didn’t know any better, that there’s a vulnerability to his request. This man is an enigma.
No, not an enigma, he’s dangerous, but I know that already.
The hallway fills with silence as he waits for me to answer. But I don’t answer immediately, I take my measure of him, devouring him with my gaze this time. He stands still, barely even breathing it would seem, whilst I figure out whether I can do what he’s asked.
Am I attracted to him? The simple answer is yes. Yes, of course I am. Who wouldn’t be?
I remember the length of red silk in his desk drawer and the way it had made me feel. The excitement, as well as the anxiety. It was another reminder of the girl I’ve buried deep inside the pit of my past. Can I be around that kind of person again? Can I work for a man who’s admitted to cheating on his wife, admitted that he came here tonight with the sole purpose of fucking me, just like all the other women he’s conquered? I think back to the vulnerable, naïve sixteen year old girl who believed love was the only thing that could conquer all. I remember that same love I’d felt for a man twice my age, a man who’d taken away my innocence and left me broken. I remember the night he was taken from me too, and the dark cloud that always lingers nearby, looms over me now.
“What’s it to be, Rose?” Ivan presses, his voice barely above a whisper.
It’s uncanny how alike Ivan is to the man I once loved; handsome, controlling, charismatic, domineering, sexy, passionate, dangerous, twisted, fucked-up.
But, I’m no longer that innocent girl. I’m a grown woman with a lifetime of experience behind me. I made the mistake of trusting a beast hidden beneath sexy smiles and intense stares, I won’t do that again.
Staring straight into Ivan’s eyes, I give him my terms.
“Working for you requires danger money it would seem, so I want double. I also want to be formally introduced to the other men hidden away in Browlace Manor. I want to know who’s in the building with me and why all the doors are locked.”
His eyes widen, that muscle ticks in his jaw once again. “How did you know about them?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know, I just do.”
“Anything else?” he bites out.
“Yes. I want to know about the red silk in your drawer. I want to know how often you use it, on who and why.”
“That’s personal,” he snaps.
“You wanted my terms, so here they are. Take it or leave it.”
He presses his lips into a hard line, thinking it through.
“Oh, and one more thing…”
“There’s more?”
“You keep Ms Hadley away from me. I don’t trust her.”
Ivan narrows his eyes at me, anger flaring behind them. Half a minute later, he nods his head sharply. “I shall send a cab to collect you Saturday night, seven pm sharp. I shall ensure Ms Hadley has the night off so that I can introduce you to Anton and Erik formally. Then I shall answer all your questions.”
“And the money?” I ask.
“Isn’t an issue.”
“Then we’re in agreement?”
“We’re in agreement, Rose,” he says, turning away from me. In four strides he’s at the front door and is yanking it open. Outside the rain still pours. He glances over his shoulder at me. “But I have something I’d like to add to our new agreement.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“No ballet.”
“What?” My heart lurches.
“If you fail. If you succumb to your need to dance. I get to make you mine.” And with that, he walks out of the door leaving me gaping after him.
Chapter Ten
Ivan
I watch Rose step out of the taxi that’s just pulled up outside. She’s wearing a dark, floor length coat, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. She opens her purse and pulls out a twenty pound note, but the taxi driver waves off her money.
Did she think I’d expect her to pay? Something about that infuriates me. I may be a bastard when it comes to women’s hearts, but I look after my staff.
Stuffing the note back into the purse she smiles at the driver, then turns and walks up to the front door. She doesn’t notice me staring at her, though that’s no surprise given I’m standing in my darkened office. I laugh at myself, hiding in darkness so she won’t see me staring. What am I, a fucking teenage boy stalking their crush? I need to get a hold of myself. This is getting ridiculous.
It’s been four days since our stand-off in her kitchen.
Four days of torture.
Every night I’ve requested the company of a woman. I’ve fucked them for hours and reached release, but Christ knows my head was elsewhere every time. All because of this woman who refuses to fall for my charms. My cock stirs just watching her as she takes the few steps up to the front door and I recall how determined she was to get what she wanted. Double the pay, meeting Anton and Erik, knowing all my fucking secrets. That part isn’t going to be easy, not because I’m going to find it hard not to tell her the truth, but because I’ve got to make sure what I tell her convinces her enough not to see through the bullshit. There are some things that are meant to stay locked behind walls of lies. My soul is one of them.
Turning my attention back to Rose, I notice that she still has a slight limp and I wonder briefly what medication she takes to ease the symptoms of her condition. If she’s going to work for me then I need to make sure she’s as healthy as she can possibly be, so I make a mental note to look into finding her the finest doctor money can buy. I’ll be damned if I pay her double to stay at home all day in bed, unless of course I’m with her, and then maybe she’d be worth the money. I’m pretty fucking certain she’d be worth it. My cock certainly thinks so.
Rose stops at the door and raises her hand to press the bell. She hesitates, her finger hovering in the air. She stands there for a good twenty seconds before the door swings open and Ms Hadley steps out.
Fuck. I’d told her to leave an hour ago. Why is she still here?
Rose takes a step back as Ms Hadley steps towards her. The wind is whipping up Rose’s dark hair and I’m finding it difficult to catch her expression, though I can see my housekeeper’s well enough. She’s scowling. It’s a look I recognise, and normally proceeds a good dressing down. I don’t know what Ms Hadley is saying, but I can tell by the sneer she’s not exchanging pleasantries. Rose’s hand lifts, and she swipes her hair behind her ear. I notice that her cheeks are bright red, though not with embarrassment given her equally angry expression. She folds her arm across her chest and I watch as her eyes narrow.
There’s the Rose I’m beginning to recognise. The one that doesn’t take any shit. Something tells me she’s had to fight her corner more than once in her life. It’s just as well she has a backbone, demure and prissy just won’t cut it here. Ms Hadley is like an overbearing, overprotective mama bear, and she doesn’t take kindly to interlopers. It took Svetlana a year to soften Ms Hadley towards her and even then, she was still guarded.
Two pink spots darken the old woman’s cheeks as Rose steps toe to toe with her. Now it’s Ms Hadley’s turn to blanche at the onslaught. There’s no doubt Rose is giving as good as she gets. I admire her gumption.
My spying is disturbed when I hear a knock on the door, there’s a strip of light beneath it and the shadow of feet moving.
“Give me a minute, Anton,” I call, knowing it’s him by the way he knocks. He knows not to open the door unless I give him permission to do so. We’re used to living with each other. Anton understands my need for privacy, like I understand his need for space.
“She’s here,” he responds.
“I know that. Just bring Erik to the dining room as planned. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Fine,” he agrees. I hear his steps as he walks away.
Turning my attention back to Ms Hadley and Rose, I frown when I realise Rose has already entered the house. I’m about to go and greet her when
something in Ms Hadley’s gaze stops me. Stepping further into the shadows, I take one last look at my housekeeper. It’s the first time I’ve really observed her unawares and a little voice of caution sounds in my head as I watch her expression turn from angry to downright murderous. Something tells me I’m going to have to watch my housekeeper a little closer from now on.
“Rose, may I take your coat?” I ask, striding into the entrance hall.
She jumps at my sudden appearance. “Do you sneak up on everyone like that?” she asks me, immediately indignant.
“Apologies. It wasn’t intentional.” There I go again, apologising to this woman.
“I just bumped into Ms Hadley,” she says, undoing the buttons on her coat. She struggles a little with each one. “I thought we agreed that you’d keep her away from me? It’s not a very good start, is it?”
“She wasn’t supposed to be here. I asked her to leave over an hour ago. What did she say to you?”
“Nothing of any consequence,” Rose responds, undoing the last button of her coat.
She lets it part, her hands falling away. Beneath I spot a red silk shirt, paired with a short black skirt that sits mid-thigh. Her shapely legs are covered in black tights and knee high boots. Even though she’s dressed for a day of work rather than dinner, I still have to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. Whether it was a conscious decision to wear that red shirt or not, it still has the same effect on me. My cock stirs as I imagine a similar length of silk wrapped around her wrists.
“I’ll make sure you don’t cross paths from now on,” I say, ignoring the urge to grab her by the hair, and drag her to my studio to fuck.
“Thank you,” she says, handing me her coat.
I take it, feeling the warmth of her body heat still lingering in the material. It takes all my self-control not to lift it to my face and breath in her smell.
“Follow me,” I say, turning on my heel and striding towards the dining room. Rose follows, the sound of her heels clicking in time with the ever present pulse in my cock.
The dining room sits at the end of one of the corridors that lead off the entrance hall. Earlier, I made sure that Ms Hadley unlocked all the doors leading to the room, not wanting to remind Rose of the fact that the rest of the doors in the Manor remain locked. Maybe she’s forgotten her need to know why they’re locked, and I won’t have to lie to her. I’m not averse to lying usually, I’m not really averse to lying now, but if I can avoid it, I will.
“Am I the only one who works here that doesn’t get a set of keys to all the doors?” Rose asks.
“Yes,” I respond, holding open the door to the dining room.
She stops on the threshold of the room, both of us standing in the doorway. The nearness of her is making my skin itch. She smells delicious, of coconuts and warm summer nights. It reminds me of Mauritius, a place I haven’t been to in years, and probably one of the only places in the world where I don’t feel suffocated by my past. I never even took Svetlana to my hotel there. I stopped going the moment she stopped living. I didn’t deserve the freedom of my soul whilst hers was damned to hell.
“So you expect me to work here with you in this house whilst all these secrets lurk behind closed doors?”
“I expect you to work as my assistant. You only wanted to know why the doors were locked, your terms didn’t include access to the rooms beyond them,” I remind her.
“That’s just semantics,” she retorts, her forehead creasing in anger. That feisty women begins to surface, and I find myself wanting to provoke her more, just so I can see her get angrier still. It fucking turns me on.
“No, it’s not. I’m not willing to give you access to the rooms beyond those required for your job. I do it for good reason.”
“Fine, then you’d better start explaining.”
Rose strides past me, her arm brushing against my chest in her haste. I see her flinch from the contact and my cock stirs once more. She might be able to deny me, but I know the attraction is there, she’s just better at fighting it than I am.
“Any particular place you’d like me to sit?” she asks pointing to the table that is dressed to seat four.
“Next to me, here,” I say, pulling out a chair.
She raises her eyebrows at the veiled ownership, but sits down anyway, eyeing the two empty chairs opposite us.
“Anton is bringing Erik. They’ll be here momentarily,” I say in answer to her silent question.
“Bringing? You make it sound like he needs babysitting.”
“He does. That’s why we lock the doors, to keep him safe,” I say.
“You keep the doors locked because of your brother Erik?”
“Brother? He’s not my brother. What gave you that idea?” I ask, leaning over to grab the bottle of Merlot. I pour us both a glass and add wine to one of the glasses opposite. Erik doesn’t drink. Actually, up until recently Erik did drink, quite a lot in fact, but he’s lost himself to another addiction that is far better for his physical health, if not his mental health.
“Ms Hadley said that she’s worked for the Sachov family most of her adult life. When I met Anton and he told me about Erik, I just assumed they were your brothers…”
I nod my head, understanding now. “Ms Hadley was telling the truth when she said that she’s worked for the Sachov family her whole life, but Anton is the only real Sachov in this house. He and I have been friends since we were kids and subsequently I’ve known Ms Hadley for as long as I can remember too. When I became a successful dancer and was earning more money than I knew what to do with, I bought this house and hired Ms Hadley. She was about to retire but decided to take me up on my offer when I asked her to work for me.”
“So why is Anton living with you now?”
I watch her pink lips part then slide over the rim of the glass as she takes a sip. Even that has my balls tightening. Ignoring my physical reaction to such a simple act, I answer her question.
“After Svetlana…” my voice trails off as I note the look of compassion in Rose’s gaze. That one look guts me, she may as well have picked up the knife from the table and stabbed it in my heart. I don’t deserve her compassion.
Taking a mouthful of wine to calm my torrid emotions, I continue. “Anton came to live here with me, to give emotional support I suppose. He had his own reasons too, but that story isn’t mine to tell. He allowed me to adopt his family name, so I could start a new life.”
“That was good of him.”
“He might not be my brother by blood, but we are family. That’s the way it’s always been.”
“And what about Erik? You said he was the reason for all the locked doors. Why are you keeping him prisoner?”
“They’re not keeping me prisoner. They’re keeping us safe.”
Rose’s head snatches around as she watches Erik enter the room. Behind him Anton follows, gently clicking the door shut. A warm blush rises up her neck, spreading out across her cheeks at the sudden entrance of my friends. In that moment she looks just like a summer rose blooming in the winter sun; a rare and unusual beauty.
She stands, her chair scraping across the hardwood floor as she does so.
“Hello again,” she says to Anton, almost shyly.
He nods briefly in her direction. Something flickers across his face in the split second it takes for him to imprint her in his memory, something that has me scowling.
Interest.
I’m hoping the interest he shows is due to his artistic eye and nothing more. I know he appreciates beautiful things, and Rose is most certainly beautiful, but that’s where I draw the line. He may be a gifted artist who can paint an extraordinary image from memory alone, but I’ll be damned if she becomes his latest muse.
No fucking way.
Luckily for him, Rose is distracted by Erik who’s gripping his violin in one hand, the bow in the other. He too is staring at her. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea after all.
“Hello Erik,” she says, walking around the table
towards him.
What is she doing? I should’ve warned her about his state of mind before they came in, but I’m captured by the way she approaches him. She moves slowly, her entire body language completely changed. Her eyes are downcast, her steps slow, cautious. She moves as though understanding instinctively that he is to be dealt with care. It’s mesmerising to watch.
Erik watches her warily from behind the curtain of his chin length hair. He may be clean shaven and dressed smartly, but it’s obvious he’s unwell. The tenseness of his body, the wild look in his eyes. Erik is like a dog who’s been beaten daily and then introduced to a new, kinder owner. No one knows whether it will bite the hand of friendship or accept it.
I watch as Erik clutches his violin and bow against his chest, stepping away from her. She stops within reaching distance and I stiffen with tension. Anton does too. Yet neither of us make any move to stop her.
“So you’re the violinist? You play beautifully,” she says, her voice is low, gentle.
There’s something about the way she holds herself, and the soothing tone of her voice that makes me wonder who in her past she had to speak to in the same way. There’s experience in her actions and this only serves to interest me more.
I hold my breath as she stands before Erik, her gaze lowered, not looking up into his eyes. She waits, absolutely still, silent.
That silence may be a balm to Erik but to me it’s deafening. I’m waiting for the bomb to explode, I know Anton is too.
But it doesn’t.
Instead, with a calmness reserved only for the brave, Rose reaches over and brushes her fingers over Erik’s arm. Her hand lingers there, her touch light, her head still bowed. Erik steps forward, his huge frame towering over her smaller one. He looks at her fingers as though he has no idea how they got there. All the while, Rose remains perfectly still. I should probably stop this, say something at least, but for the life of me all I can do is watch to see how it unfolds.
“I’d love to hear you play a full piece one day, if that’s not too much to ask?” she requests softly.