by Celia Aaron
“What are you thinking?”
I jumped as Sebastian’s voice came from one of the nearby roof supports. The speaker must have been wired inside it. I placed the tomato into the pot, then poured dirt around it to fill. “I’m thinking it’ll take me all morning to re-pot the tomatoes, then all afternoon for me to do the complete taxonomy on everything else in here.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
I looked around, wanting to see the camera as I spoke, which was ridiculous. Maybe it was better if I didn’t know and just continued with ghostly Sebastian. “Now you’re an expert on the time it takes to pot and classify plants?”
“No, that part was true. I’m simply saying that wasn’t what you were thinking of.”
I pressed the dark soil around the base of the plant. “Too bad you don’t have a camera in my mind, huh?”
“What I wouldn’t give for such a thing.”
“Psycho,” I whispered as I moved on to the next plant.
“I can read your lips.” His voice dropped lower. “I think about your lips quite a bit, actually. How soft they are. The way you taste. How your tongue is almost as curious as my own.”
“Don’t you have some dirty deals to do?” I wiped a stray hair from my face with a clean section of forearm. “I’m busy here.”
“I have a meeting in five minutes that I’m looking forward to.”
“Why so excited?” I threw in some extra manure at the bottom of the terra cotta pot. “You planning the annual seal clubbing retreat?”
His laugh filled the space around me, electrifying it with unexpected mirth. Something about it warmed me. I couldn’t stop the faint smile that crept across my lips, so I tipped my head down so he wouldn’t see.
“Thank you for your beautiful smile. I’ll carry it with me for the rest of the day.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I’ll be busy until six or so. And then we’re having company this evening.”
I paused my work. “Company? Who?”
“My father.”
I tried to keep a steady tone. “He knows you have me locked up here?”
“I tell Dad everything.”
“And he’s okay with it?” I almost snapped the stalk of the next tomato plant.
“I wouldn’t quite say that. But he’s learned to let me do my thing, even if that thing isn’t exactly—”
“Legal, moral, ethical, fair, sane?”
His low laugh was darker this time. “I was going to say reasonable.”
“He’s an enabler.”
“Of sorts, yes.”
“Great.” My deadpan was still as fresh as my gardening skills.
“I must go, but I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time.”
“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little maneuver this morning. That will require a bit more of an intensive discussion.”
I lifted my arm toward the sky and extended my middle finger.
His laughter rolled through the rays of sun. “Soon.”
23
Sebastian
I strode away from the helicopter and toward the library wing of the house. My heartburn had intensified each moment I was away from her. Link’s phone call to the home office of “Dr. Williams” had put me on edge. Timothy had posed as a research assistant and reassured the dunce that Camille was fine, just hard at work along with Dr. Williams. Apparently, my texts had raised suspicion, so I needed to up my game to throw them off.
The helicopter took off, heading to the parking pad and hangar on the far side of the property. The house glowed bright in the night, though my gaze focused on the library where she’d just been curled up with a book.
Now, with her close, I wanted to run until I had her in my arms. Not that she’d let me touch her without a deal. Maybe Dad would be able to help me out with that area of finesse. I’d seen his car rolling up the long driveway as the helicopter was landing.
Timothy greeted me at the rear door. “She’s in the library with your father. I tried to delay him—”
“Fuck.” I barreled past him and down the hall to the library. The black door was open, and Camille’s voice carried.
“—can’t just expect me to stay here forever!”
“I know.” My dad’s calming voice tried to overcome her loud notes. “It’s not forever. Just give me an opportunity to speak with him.”
I walked into the library. Camille stood with her back to the fire, her arms crossed over her chest. The light heather of her sweater gave her a warm glow, and the jeans she’d chosen hugged the lines of her legs. The heartburn eased, the nearness of her like a balm even if she was scowling at me with all her might.
“My ears were practically burning.” I smirked at her.
Her glower deepened, and her hands curled into fists.
“Son, don’t make it worse.” Dad sank into his favorite chair—the same one Camille favored. “What a mess.”
“It’s not a mess.” I unbuttoned my jacket and slid it off. Camille’s eyes followed my movement. When her gaze lingered on my chest, I drank in the reassurance her attraction gave me. She could fight it all she wanted, but the desire in her gaze was far more truthful than the denials from her lips.
“You’ve kidnapped this poor girl.” Dad rubbed his forehead, his voice quivering with age. “I can’t fix this, son. Everything I’ve taught you, you threw it away. This isn’t going to end well.”
“Everything is going according to plan.” I sat across from him. “Camille belongs here with me. You’ll see. So will she.”
“Standing right here, psycho.” She pinned her thumbnail between her teeth.
I hated the distress on my father’s face, but it couldn’t be helped.
He shook his head, then turned to Camille. “Do you have any family, dear?”
“You mean will anyone miss me?” The bitter tone in her voice seemed to crumple my father even more.
“I’m certain plenty of people will miss you.” He offered her his best attempt at a smile. “No doubt of that. And I’m sorry.”
“If you’re sorry, then tell your son to let me go!”
He looked at me, the worry leaking from him like air from a punctured lung. “You have to let her go, Sebastian.”
“I know it’s hard to understand for both of you, but this is right. I’m not letting her go.”
“You’re insane! You can’t just steal a person.” Camille turned her back to me and cradled her head. “I’m supposed to be in the Amazon,” she mumbled into her hands.
“Son.” My father’s gentle tone—the one he used when he was trying his best to reach the me that he hoped existed inside the psychopath (spoiler alert: there was only the psychopath)—assailed me. “When you told me this morning, I half-hoped you were joking. But I knew you weren’t. I knew it.” He shook his head. “I did my best to raise you, to show you how to be a good man despite everything. This isn’t the way. And now, you’ve bought yourself a ticket to prison. After all I’ve done to keep you out of institutions.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Son, please, just let her go.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. But you will.” I pointed at Camille. “She makes me feel.” I pointed at Dad. “Your tears, they should make me sad, right? They don’t. I see you upset and I think ‘I don’t want you to be unhappy’ but I don’t feel your sadness. But her”—I leaned forward, as if proximity might make my dad understand—“when she cries, when she laughs; I feel it in here.” I tapped my chest over my heart. “I’ve never had that, never experienced anything like it. I can’t let that go. Don’t you see?”
Camille turned back to me, her eyes sad, though I suspected her pity was more for me than herself.
Dad glanced at her, then back to me. Something new had dawned on his face. It seemed almost…hopeful? “Son, step out of the room for a moment, would you? I’d like to talk to Camille alone.”
I didn’t want to leave her, but I trusted my father. “All right.” Standing, I strode to the doo
r, despite the itch to return to her.
Dad waved Camille to the seat on the couch I’d just vacated and followed me to the door. “Son, turn off the camera. Audio, too.” He shut the black door in my face, and I was completely in the dark.
They emerged after what seemed like forever, but was technically only one hour and forty-three minutes.
I pushed off the wall where I’d been waiting. When Dad hugged Camille, I wanted to separate them. Mine. It was the first time in my life I’d ever thought of harming my father. I stayed put and paid close attention to their cues.
Her eyes were watery, her nose slightly rosy. She’d been crying. My father sniffed. They’d been crying together. When Camille finally looked at me, there was some sort of new understanding in her eyes along with her usual wariness.
“What did I miss?”
Dad headed toward the dining room. “What’s Rita cooking up for dinner?”
Camille followed.
“You aren’t going to tell me what you two discussed?” I fell into step with her.
“No.”
Fuck. I supposed the good news was that she didn’t seem any more inclined to run than she did before.
“Have you decided to stop trying to leave?”
She shook her head. “It would take a lot more than a discussion with your dad for me to agree to give up my freedom.”
“But you two hugged?” It sounded dumb. I knew it, but I wanted any morsel of what they’d discussed. “So, that’s a good thing?”
She paused before walking into the dining room.
Her light blue eyes pierced me, then glanced at my dad. “Let’s just say I’m not your only victim.”
24
Camille
Sebastian brushed his teeth and watched me in the mirror as I skirted behind toward my closet. It struck me as odd that I already considered it “my” closet. I reminded myself it was only “a” closet as I changed into pajamas.
When I walked out and grabbed my toothbrush from the sink, Sebastian shook his head. “No clothes.”
“I don’t care about your stupid rules.” I squeezed some toothpaste onto my brush and got to work as he glared at me in the mirror. Taking my time, I brushed slowly and methodically as his scowl deepened. When I was done, I turned and headed toward the bedroom.
He grabbed my arm and whipped me around, then pinned me against the wall. “I don’t know what my father told you about me, but I can assure you that challenging me on this isn’t in your best interest.”
“I’m wearing my pajamas to bed.”
“No.” He leaned closer. “You aren’t. I’ll rip them the fuck off if I have to.” His smirk appeared, and I struggled to keep my gaze locked with his.
I wrapped all my confidence into a ball and hurled it into my voice. “I have a deal for you.”
He gripped my t-shirt, fisting the material and pulling me toward him. “It better involve you being naked.”
I swallowed thickly and tried to summon up all the courage his father had given me earlier in the library. “The deal is this. You let me wear what I want to bed, and I’ll willingly let you hold me. Or I sleep naked and stay on my side of the bed, no touching. Your choice.”
His eyes flickered to my lips. “You forgot option three.”
I grabbed his hand and tried to pry his fingers loose. They didn’t move.
“Option three is that I could strip you and force you to sleep against me.” He pressed me into the wall, his body mastering mine. “I already know how you like to be kissed.” His voice dropped even lower. “And I know how much you enjoyed it, no matter how much you lie to yourself.”
I gave up on trying to free my shirt. “I’d fight you all night.” My breathy voice betrayed me, but I wasn’t giving up until I gained some ground.
“Us naked together, our bodies tangled and pressed against each other? Doesn’t sound so bad.”
I shuddered, but not from fear. This had to be textbook Stockholm Syndrome, because his words heated me inside and out.
“My deal is the only one that doesn’t end with my knee in your crotch.” I forced what I hoped was a stern look onto my face. “Hold me or don’t. It’s up to you.”
He licked his lips and relaxed his grip on my shirt. “Get in bed.”
“Pajamas or no?” Hell, did I just win?
“You can wear yours.” He tucked his thumbs in the waistline of his boxers and pushed them to the floor. His cock sprang free, thick and hard. “But I’ll be naked.”
I turned and scurried into the bedroom. He hit the light in the bathroom and trailed right behind me.
“Come here.” Though this was my deal, the command hadn’t left his tone.
I slid between the sheets and watched his dark silhouette ease down beside me. His hand wrapped around my waist and he pulled me into his side.
A deep sigh left his lungs as soon as our bodies connected. “Why does this feel so right?”
He overwhelmed me—his warmth, the honest wonder in his voice, and the way I reacted to him. I didn’t understand it, and I hated myself for even having remotely positive feelings toward him. It was messed up beyond words.
“I know you feel it, too.” He nuzzled into my hair.
“No.” It was a weak protest given the way my stomach clenched as my breasts pressed into his side, my nipples hardening without my consent.
He rolled to his side and wrapped his arms around me, enfolding me in a toxic embrace. I was caught in the jaws of a venus flytrap. Just like a hapless fly, I thought I’d had the upper hand. But now, with him pressed against me, I was falling prey to the lure.
“Touch me.” His gravelly voice raked down my body, setting my skin alight.
“That wasn’t part of the dea—”
“You said I could hold you.” He pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, “Just hold onto me, too.”
I left my arm lying on my side, refusing to return his embrace.
“Stubborn.” He smiled against my ear. “How about another deal?”
“I feel pretty good about our current contractual situation.”
“I know you feel good.” He flattened his palm on my back rubbing back and forth. “But maybe I have something to offer.”
“What’s that?” His hands on me were drugging, and I relaxed despite myself.
“If you agree to touch me—”
I shook my head against him. “I’m not giving you a handy.”
His low laugh tried to seduce me. “I’ve already tasted your lips, your tongue. You enjoyed it as much as I did.”
Heat flamed in my cheeks, and I had to force myself to stay put. “I didn’t have much choice in that.”
“You had a choice.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “And you made the decision the real you wanted.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. A part of you knows that I’m the man for you. That we belong together. That’s the real you. You aren’t some fair maiden that your idiot boyfriend must save and speak for and treat like a princess. You’re light, but you crave the dark. You crave me.”
My heart answered him in hasty thumps, and I wished I’d just stripped and slept on the edge of the bed. His touch was too disarming, his words speaking to me on a level I never even touched. How could he see inside me? Or maybe he wasn’t seeing anything at all. Maybe he was simply projecting what he wanted onto me. But if that were true, why did I feel so conflicted?
“As for the handy, that’s not what I meant. Not that I’d say no, of course. Your part of this deal is that, if you agree, you pretend to like me for the night.”
I craned my head back to look into the dark pools of his eyes. “That’s a tall order.”
His lips twitched. “I’m sure it’s not as tough as you make it out to be.”
“You’re right. It’s worse.”
“Come on.” He kept rubbing my back. “Pretend you’re here because you want to be.”
He was ask
ing for more than his words conveyed. Letting go—that’s what he wanted from me. To forget myself and let this happen to me.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Why not?”
I stretched my left leg, the bracelet light and warm from my body heat, but still weighing me down. “Because it’s not real.”
“That’s where the pretend part comes in.”
“What are you offering in return?”
“A day in the city.”
My breath hitched. “Are you serious?”
“Do I seem the joking sort to you?”
“Not particularly.” Hope hummed a sweet tune inside me. If I could get to the city, maybe I’d have a chance to get away.
“The deal is that next Monday, you will accompany me to the city. You will stay at my penthouse while I attend to business. I will see you at lunch, and then again at dinner. Timothy will be with you the entire time. If you make a wrong move, I’ll instruct him to drug and bring you back here, where we’ll have to start all over again.”
“Why can’t it be tomorrow?”
He pulled me so that he could rest his chin on my crown. “Too soon. Besides, your part of the deal is that every night this week, you let me hold you and you touch me back. That’s how you get to the city.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Every night?”
“Yes.”
Playing it cool seemed like a wise option, but I wasn’t going to let this chance get away from me. “What do you mean by ‘touch’ you?”
“What do you want it to mean?” He kissed the top of my head.
“Hey.” I leaned away from him. “No kissing.”
A low growl rumbled through his chest as he pulled me back to him. “Stubborn. What I mean is that you have free rein over my body. Treat me like someone you’re comfortable with.” He tensed. “Like…like that moronic dipshit you were seeing.”
“You mean Link?” I knew it bothered him, so I used what small weapons I had to strike back.
His muscles turned to stone around me. “Yes, him. But more, I want much more. Be comfortable with me.” He pulled back and stared at me, his body relaxing with each second he looked into my eyes. “You’re safe here. Always safe with me. I’ll never hurt you.” He rested a warm palm on my cheek. “Pretend that you believe me. Pretend you want to be here. Pretend you want me to be yours.” Pretend you want to be mine. He didn’t say the words, but I could feel them in the air.