by Girard, Dara
“Her dog should have alarmed her.”
“What?”
“The dog didn’t bark.”
Grant shrugged. “It probably ran away.”
“What if it was kidnapped so she wouldn’t be warned?”
“She had no money, no family. There was no reason to kill her. I trust Victoria as much as you do, but if we can’t prove it we have to let it sit. There’s nothing we can do.”
“We need to find that dog.”
Grant heard the determination in Robert’s voice and began to grin. “Do you think he started it?”
Robert shot him a look of disgust then walked to his car.
* * *
That evening Victoria went into the library. She loved its antique bookshelves and display cabinets displaying souvenirs from different countries. At times she imagined herself sitting on the couch or in one of the vintage French chairs that were placed about. She could picture Braxton scribbling notes at the large writing desk in the corner and Amanda spinning the standing globe, guessing where her parents would holiday next.
Victoria pushed the thoughts aside and searched the shelves to find books on herbs that were similar to those she found back home.
She pulled down a few books and flipped through them, humming to herself as ideas ran through her mind. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t the only one occupying the room. She turned when she heard a glass being carefully set down.
“Well, well, well,” Nicholas drawled, stretched languidly on the couch. “What are you so excited about?”
She snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf. “Nothing.”
“Celebrating your victory on getting rid of Patrice?” He raised his glass in a toast and took a sip. “I don’t blame you.”
She walked past him, determined to make a quick exit.
He grabbed her wrist, seizing it in a solid grip. “Where are you off to? You just came in here. You don’t need to keep your victory a secret. Why don’t we celebrate together?”
She tried to twist her wrist free, feeling the burn of his palm against her skin. “I have work to do.”
“You work too much.” His gaze trailed the length of her. “Although I haven’t seen you around much. I like you in jeans much better than that uniform. Uncle Robert has no sense of fashion. Now if you belonged to me, I’d have you in a dress that showed off that nice figure of yours.”
She struggled to pull her wrist away, but his grip tightened. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You would if the price were right. Isn’t Uncle Robert paying you enough?”
Victoria grabbed the glass on the side table and splashed him in the face. Surprised, Nicholas loosened his grip. She yanked her wrist free and ran to door. He blocked her path—as large and fierce as Braxton had been, but pulsing with a masculinity that was pure menace. “Don’t be shy,” he said gently, his icy eyes belying his tone. “Natalie wasn’t shy. I’ll make it worth your while.”
Rage and fear coursed through her. “Open the door.”
He smiled coldly. “Sorry, darling, you don’t make the orders around here.”
She backed away as he came towards her, looming over her like a wolverine over its prey. She could smell the scent of too much Chablis. Her eyes surveyed the room for something she could turn into a weapon, but even a thick encyclopedia would not be strong enough to deter him. “I’m warning you.”
“Good, I like warnings. They make everything that much more exciting.”
Her gaze fell on a statue, sitting on the writing desk. She ran towards it. Nicholas rushed forward and grabbed her. She fought with such violence he lost his balance. They both fell on the large Oriental rug, which softened their fall. She wiggled back. The rug fibers burned her skin. She grabbed the leg of the cabinet
“You may take me down,” she said. “But this is coming with me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.” One touch from him and she’d pull the heavy, wooden cabinet until it came crashing down, shattering everything inside.
Nicholas hesitated, glancing at the cabinet then at the determination in her eyes. He loosened his grip, but didn’t release her. “You’re crazy.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes and strengthened her hold. She began to pull the cabinet towards them. It squeaked as it scrapped across the floor. “Would you like to find out how crazy?”
He immediately released his hold and stood in disgust “You’re no fun.”
She scrambled to her feet. As far as she was concerned she hoped he thought she was the greatest bore of the century. She ran to the door. He grabbed her arm and pressed his face close to hers. “I wouldn’t tell anyone about our little chat.” He glanced down at her. “Nobody would believe you anyway.”
Victoria yanked her arm free and darted out of the room. She ran down the hall, remembering her joy and how Nicholas had replaced it with fear. She had to get out of the house. She turned the corner and crashed into Robert, coming out of the dining room.
He grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her, but the action only brought back memories of other hands trying to restrain her—ones that were too big and too powerful to fight as they bit into her skin. She panicked and struggled against him.
He shook her. “Victoria, stop it!”
The hard command sliced through her terror. She looked up at his worried, dark eyes and knew she was safe.
“Is there a fire?” he asked. “Has something happened?”
She shook her head and let her gaze fall, unable to speak or look at him. The significance of what had happened made her mute. Robert gathered her close, Victoria began to pull away, but he held her tighter. “I’m here, Victoria. You’re safe.”
Whether it was the sound of her name on his lips or his arms around her, she believed him. She nestled against his strength, seeking to gain power from him. She moved her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt and slowly felt her fear slip away.
Robert continued to hold her. He glanced around the hall, in an effort to figure out what had scared her, but the house was quiet. There was no smell of smoke, no shouts of dismay. Nothing to indicate that something was wrong. Nevertheless, he knew something was the matter. He’d held her before and never felt such fear. Fear so tangible it seemed to crawl over him. She trembled in his arms like a bird caught in a net. He shut his eyes for a moment to check his anger. He had to fight the impulse to find and destroy whatever had frightened her. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Tears of anger swelled, blurring her vision. She couldn’t tell him what was wrong. She couldn’t share what had happened. How could she explain what his nephew had attempted? He might ask her why she hadn’t screamed, why she hadn’t called anyone. He might not believe her. If he asked Nicholas about it, he would lie. Would Braxton take her word over one of his family? He had already gotten rid of Patrice because of her. How could he get rid of Nicholas too?
She felt him sigh, sensing his frustration. “Victoria, what happened?” he asked tenderly. “Did a big bird swoop down and try to eat you?”
A vulture perhaps. With your last name. “It’s nothing, Mr. Braxton.”
“So it’s still Mr. Braxton, huh? Come.” He led her to his study. “Sit down.”
She fell into a chair. A sense of vulnerability slithered over her now that she was free from the safety of his arms. She gripped the handles of the chair to keep herself from shaking.
He sat on the edge of his desk and assessed her with hard, critical eyes. His voice remained soft. “What happened?”
“I saw a spider,” she managed in a cool voice.
He rubbed a brow. “A spider?”
“Yes. A big, black, hairy one the size of my palm. I was cleaning the cobwebs and it fell on me. I just got scared and ran.”
He frowned. “You’re afraid of spiders?”
“Yes.”
“All kinds? Or just the ones you make up?”
She stiffened. “Are you laughi
ng at me?”
“No, I don’t believe you.”
Her grip on the handles tightened. “I can’t help that”
“Sure you can. You can tell me the truth.”
“That is the truth.”
“A big, hairy spider brought you to tears?” He quirked a brow at her surprised. “Oh, you thought I didn’t see them?”
“I was just scared.”
He rested his hands on the desk and tapped his fingers against it. To Victoria it sounded like a warrior’s drumbeat. He was on the hunt for the truth. “I know that you were scared. I want to know why.”
“I told you why. So if you are finished with your questions, I will leave. I don’t have time to convince you of my honesty. I have work to do. “
“Don’t worry,” he said, lightly. “ I won’t tell your boss.” He continued to study her with dark, unreadable eyes. “Have you made any progress with the garden?”
The abrupt change in topic confused her. “Garden?”
“Yes, the one you’ve been working on outside.”
“I haven’t been able to do anything yet. I was in the library looking at different herbs and was going to write some down when...”
“That big hairy spider attacked you?” he finished. “Wow. How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Look at the books and clean the cobwebs at the same time?”
Victoria folded her arms and glared at him. “May I leave now?”
Robert leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m not the enemy. I just want to know what happened.”
“I was frightened by a spider,” she said evenly. She let her arms fall.
“Fine. Since spiders scare you so much, I suggest you stop cleaning cobwebs. They have a strange habit of making them.”
She went to the door.
“Victoria,” her name burst from his lips as a plea. For a moment he stared at her vulnerable and her heart shifted. “Have I done something wrong?”
She folded her arms again. She couldn’t trust him yet She couldn’t trust anyone not even herself. “No.”
“Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“I’ve been busy.”
He nodded, a shutter came over his face and she knew she had failed him.
“I can’t explain—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said polite, but distant. “That’s fine.”
“No I—”
He changed the topic. “So is that a new style?”
“What?”
He gestured to her ear. “Wearing one earring. I usually see you with two.”
She reached up to her left ear and felt nothing. She jumped to her feet, panic washing over her in waves. “Oh my God. I’ve lost it!” She was out the door before Robert could stop her. He found her crawling on the ground in the library, her hands frantically sweeping the floor.
“I have to find it,” she cried. “It was my mother’s.”
“Relax,” he said calmly “We will find it eventually.”
“No. I have to find it now.”
He lifted her off the ground and turned her to him. His eyes clung to hers. “I will find it,” he said slowly. “It’s not gone. It’s just been misplaced. You will get it back. You have my word.” He took her hand and felt her wince. He glanced down and noticed redness on her wrist. “What’s this?”
She furrowed her brows. “I think it’s called a bruise.”
He shook his head unable to stop a smile. “Always ready with a quick reply. You must be feeling better. Did the spider bite you?”
“No.”
“Then how did you get it?”
“I don’t know. I got it caught.”
“Got it caught in somebody’s hand perhaps?” His finger grazed over the crescent shaped marks. “These look like fingernails.”
She shrugged.
He stroked the bruise with his thumb. His voice was low edged with steel. “Some of the men working here have a strange respect for women. You’re very friendly and that can be... He searched for the right word. “Misinterpreted. I won’t promise I won’t fire him on the spot, but if one of the workers—”
“They’ve always treated me with respect,” she said quickly. She didn’t want him casting suspicion on them. “I bruise very easily. Sometimes Aunt Janet grabs me to tell me to slow down or Foster takes my arm to stop me from doing something. The bruise always goes away so I don’t take notice.”
Robert fell quiet, continuing to caress her wrist. He finally lifted his eyes and his steady gaze traveled over her face with such gentleness her heart melted. “If that spider scares you again, you come to me. Understand?”
“Yes.” Victoria swallowed, feeling the weight of his hurt and confusion as he released her to go.
Of all the people in the world she didn’t want to hurt him. She couldn’t let him leave thinking he’d done something wrong. She bit her lip then grabbed his collar and kissed him. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” she whispered against his lips. “I think you’re wonderful.”
She took a step back; he stopped her and crushed her to him. “That’s nice to know.”
His mouth covered hers, massaging her lips with demanding mastery. Victoria felt a new panic rising inside her. It filled her with a delicious anxiety, causing her entire body to tingle as she recognized his power and her weakness to him. She was at his will, unable to resist him. Instead of the heat of the previous kiss, this one was slow and soothing, healing the wounds that Nicholas had inflicted moments before.
Her knees weakened as the kiss deepened and his hands curled around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck to keep herself from falling into the abyss of joy, calling to her. She pressed herself against the solid length of him as his moist lips slid to her neck.
“We mustn’t do this here,” she said.
“I know,” he replied in husky tones. He swept her into his arms and rested her on the couch. His eyes smoldered with an inner fire. “But I can’t stop.” His lips were on hers again. She traced an S pattern down his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt. She kissed the base of his throat and curved into him as his powerful hands made a sensuous trail up her body.
“Victoria,” he moaned.
She touched the sensitive part of his ear with her lips and whispered, “I love how you say my name.”
“I’ll say it some more.” He buried his face in her neck and sighed, enjoying her softness. He could hold her forever. He reluctantly drew away before he went too far. He gathered his control and walked to the door.
“Robert.”
He spun around and stared at her. Her voice was a whisper, but it rang in his ears. He never realized how much he needed to hear her say his name. It called to something deep inside him. It woke a man who’d been sleeping inside him living in a cold, dark cell for years. He took a step towards her; the depths of his need for her propelling him forward, seeking her promise of warmth. He closed the distance between them and kissed her again. “This isn’t good,” he said letting desire rule him.
“It feels good.”
He fell on the couch and pulled her on his lap, feeling her soft bottom, pressing against the hard bulge in his trousers. He ran his hand through her hair, deepening his kiss.
Someone knocked on the door then opened it. Robert jumped to his feet; Victoria fell on the ground. Foster entered the room.
“Yes?” Robert snapped.
Foster ignored the tone. “I have to talk to you.”
“I’ll meet you in the study.”
“Okay.” He nodded then closed the door.
Robert held his hand out to Victoria and began to help her up.
Foster opened the door again. “And Braxton?”
He dropped Victoria. His eyes flashed with annoyance. “Yes?”
“It’s urgent.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Okay.” Foster didn’t move.
“Is that all?”
<
br /> “Yes.”
Robert’s voice chilled with a layer of ice. “Then I suggest you leave.”
Foster nodded then closed the door.
He helped Victoria up. “Are you okay?”
She rubbed her sore bottom. “From the first or the second time you dropped me?”
“I’m sorry.” He bent over her. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
She pushed him away, trying not to laugh. “Stop it and go.”
He smiled and left the room, whistling.
* * *
A few moments later, Robert walked into his study in a good mood. “So Foster what’s so urgent?”
“Susannah Rhodes is doing a story on you.”
His good mood died. “Why?”
“She knows about you and Ms. Spenser.”
His eyes widened. “How could she know about that? What was she doing? Peering through the bedroom window?”
Foster delicately cleared his throat. “No, I mean she knows you’re using Ms. Spenser’s psychic abilities to aid you in a case.”
Heat rushed to his face. Robert sat on the edge of the desk and shrugged trying to be nonchalant. “Okay, I’ll deal with that.”
“She also knows who Ms. Spenser’s father is.”
He jumped to his feet. “How much does she want?”
Foster brushed lint from his trousers. “She doesn’t want money. She wants fame and you’re her ticket there. Her story airs tonight.”
***
That evening Robert watched the report in disbelief. Susannah Rhodes either had a good contact or was very good at guessing. She knew everything. She spoke about Victoria’s background and how she thought the recent fires were connected to one firestarter, though investigators classified them as accidental.
When the phone rang, he absently picked it up. “Braxton.”
Grant came on the line. “Are you watching—”
“Yes. ”
“How did she find out—”
He ran a tired hand down his face. “I don’t know.”
Grant exhaled. “This is bad.”
It got worse. The next day the commissioner called Robert into his office. Commissioner Wesley Pinkel was a big man with a big voice. He used it on Robert.