by T. L. Martin
She pulls her shoulders back. “The kitchen wasn’t exactly eye-opening.”
My lips twitch despite the irritation still coiled around me. “No, I don’t suppose it was. And you realize what you’re asking?”
Her eyes flicker with uncertainty, but she wipes it clear. “Yes.”
I rub my chin, genuinely considering her terms.
With a request like that, she’s clearly still up to something.
I could pawn her off to one of my brothers and avoid having to deal with her altogether. But then I see images of their hands on her naked body, and the urge to slice off their dicks consumes me. Not great for our relationship. The most obvious solution is what Felix already suggested—cut her contract and get her far outside these walls. Eliminate the risk for good.
Obvious choice, yes, but after today, that’s not an option for me either. I’m not so sure I’m done with her yet—and I sure as fuck don’t want anyone else having her.
“I’ll think it over.” A buzz vibrates on the dresser. I glance toward the sound then back to her, thanking whoever the fuck it is for interrupting. “For now, you can manage one more day in the kitchen.”
I don’t wait for her to respond before I’m walking to the dresser, revealing none of the tension still gripping me as I press the phone to my ear.
“Go ahead,” I tell Felix.
The door clicks, and my shoulders relax a fraction. Funny how being fucked isn’t nearly as pleasing as I remember.
“She wore her scars as her best attire.
A stunning dress made of hellfire.”
—Daniel Saint
My heart races when I leave Adam’s room. I keep my eyes forward and my steps brisk as I walk through the halls, desperate to find a spot where I can be alone. One of Raife’s secretaries passes, and I manage a small nod but otherwise forge ahead until I’m near the spa and locking the bathroom door behind me.
I let my weight fall against the wall, close my eyes, and I just breathe. My skin tingles everywhere, deliciously sore from the pressure of his strong hands running all over me. I can already feel the bruises forming.
I’ve had rough sex, gentle sex, some unconventional and everything in between. I’ve never considered myself someone who leaned one way or the other, because it was never the act I was after—it was the release. Those blissful moments of pure, blind ignorance an orgasm provides, shutting the world down around me.
But this . . .
With a swallow, I reach for my inner thigh and stroke the raw bite mark. His starving tongue, the tremors rolling through him, the unapologetically depraved look in his eyes—this was so much more.
He was so much more.
Instead of ignorance, I tasted what it might be like to finally be me. I didn’t give a show this time. I had no plan, no calculations. No scolding voice inside my head.
For a little while, I was free.
Adam—he was unhinged. Shameless. Everything wrong and everything right. And he held the key to my cage in his palm.
I jump at a knock on the door.
“Emma? You alive in there?”
It’s almost normal now, hearing Aubrey address me as Emma. “Just a sec.”
Adam’s heat still warms my skin, my sore muscles reminding me of only him. I close my eyes again, letting the sensations sink in for one final moment.
I hope it lasts.
Pulling the door open, I step into the hall and face Aubrey.
Her eyebrows lift as she scans everything from my wild hair to the torn hem of my nighty to the faint marks on my thighs. Stepping closer, she places her hands on my cheeks and stares into my eyes for a few long moments. Soon, she goes from squinting with concern to giving me a satisfied grin.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my cheeks still squished between her palms.
“Just working out if that look in your eyes is you losing yourself or finding yourself.”
My brows knit. “And?”
She drops her hands and steps back with a knowing glint in her eye. Then she spins on her heel and heads toward the spa’s exit. “And I think we need to clean you up because the kitchen isn’t going to service itself.” Just as I start to follow, confused, she looks over her shoulder and winks. “Emmy.”
Is this what you felt, Frankie?
Did you let yourself go to this place? To one of them?
Her question from our last conversation comes as a whisper in my ear: If you had the chance to get away, and I mean really get away—forget Mama, forget it all. Would you take it? If there was a place you could finally just be you. All of you. Would you do it, Emmy?
My chest twists as I place a tray of bread rolls in the oven, then start preparing the rest of them.
Frankie might be good and whole, but everyone is flawed. And in our case, we had a mama who never failed to remind us of it. A mama who saw Frankie’s strengths and treated them like things to be cleansed of. I watched it suffocate Frankie, Mama’s constant punishments and attempts at purifying us.
Sometimes I wondered if I was suffocating her, too. She was all I had growing up, and she knew it. It hurt each time she left, but I never blamed her for needing to get away.
I could have said no that day. I could have lied so she would’ve stayed home. She may not have believed me, but I could have at least tried.
Now—as a cold, absent sensation slowly replaces Adam’s lingering hold on me—I wonder if it was really such a bad thing for her to come here. What if she found whatever she was seeking, and then she really did leave, safe and sound, of her own accord?
The Matthews are not good men. I don’t need more evidence to know that. But none of the secretaries are here against their will. In fact, they seem to enjoy serving the brothers.
After pushing the next tray in the oven, I glance at the clock. Aubrey stepped into the hall for a phone call three minutes ago. Turning around, I wipe the back of a hand over my damp forehead.
Even as I try to understand Frankie’s absence, the nagging in my gut doesn’t relent. It’s a sharp, stabbing feeling, and I know I can’t just assume she’s okay. I need to see it with my own two eyes.
There has to be something more I can do. Something more immediate than my current plan’s turned out to be.
Slipping my shoes from my feet to my hands, I tiptoe toward the door Aubrey took. I press my ear against the cool wood, and listen for her as I work out my next move. The spa is the closest part of the house, and Aubrey’s desk might have something helpful. It’s a slim chance, but it’s also the only thing I might get away with in this slight window of time. After overhearing Aubrey’s voice behind the wall, I’m about to rush toward the other exit when heels click toward me.
Shit.
Aubrey opens the door just as I slip back behind the oven.
My heart races, my eyes focused on the bread rolls baking, as if looking at her will give me away.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“What’s up with the shoes?”
“Huh?” I glance down at the shoes still in my hand, and my grip tightens. “Oh, they were hurting my feet.” Setting them on the floor, I kick the heels out of the way and clear my throat. “I rarely wore heels before I came here.”
She’s typing something into her phone when she approaches me. “You’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“I was wondering,” I mutter, turning on the sink and washing my hands. I wait until Aubrey glances up from the screen to continue. “What is it the Matthews do, exactly?”
She returns her attention to the phone as she answers, “Cryptocurrency.”
I frown. I don’t have much experience with the internet, but that sounds pretty clean. “So, why all the cameras?” I bite back all the other things I could add—why are there two mansions? Why the lack of windows and constantly closed shades? Why the secretiveness?
Aubrey looks up from the screen again. She shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “They have enemies.” After a sec
ond, she adds, “And maybe a few trust issues.”
“Just a few?” Adam’s deep voice pulls my attention to the open doorway, and my skin prickles with awareness.
He’s leaning so casually against the doorframe that I might doubt this morning ever happened if it wasn’t for the evidence marking my body. He takes a step forward, his eyes finding mine, and my pulse immediately responds.
“I’ve thought your request over.” He pauses, his gaze sweeping the room before returning to mine. “No deal.”
What? “You said—”
“I said I would consider your request. And I did. I don’t like it.” Aubrey slowly backs away, but Adam’s shoulders stiffen when she almost fades from view. His eyes go dark, and he growls, “Stay.”
I can’t deny a feeling of satisfaction at seeing that maybe he isn’t so unaffected after all. A tiny smile lifts my lips, and his jaw ticks.
When Aubrey rushes back to stand beside me, his muscles relax slightly. “As I was saying, no deal. It takes work to get to where Aubrey and Stella are. It’s not something you can have just by asking. I will, however, make some adjustments.”
I perk up at that, my spine straightening. “Okay . . .”
“You’ll be moving back to the ladies’ quarters. Tonight.”
I bite down on my lip, trying to hide my disappointment.
“And instead of housework, you’ll begin catering to Aubrey, assisting with any duties she wants help with.”
“Really?”
His eyes narrow. “You’ll be sitting some things out, but for the most part, she’s still at your side constantly. Understand?”
I nod, barely refraining from letting a grin stretch across my face. Still not ideal for investigating, but far better than being stuck in the kitchen. “Yes, sir.”
“The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.”
—Edgar Allan Poe
It’s strange seeing the four of them lounging in leather seats, gathered in Raife’s office for a meeting. It just looks so . . . normal . . . from out here in the hall. Aubrey leads the way, although I’m the one carrying a tray in one hand with their drinks. When I told her I was a waitress before this, she shoved the tray into my hands and said she always spills. If I knew that’s all it was going to take to be allowed into these morning meetings, I would have told her three days ago when I first started assisting her.
Serious tones fill the air as the brothers talk amongst themselves, only quieting slightly when we enter. Aubrey makes her way across the room and gestures for me to get started.
Griff is closest to the door, so I give him his drink first—plain coffee, which surprises me considering what the others are having. When he grabs the mug, his fingers cover mine and hold. I lift my gaze to his, a shiver sliding down my spine when I meet his beady black eyes. His lips thin before twisting up.
I’m about to pull my hand away when his grip tightens. What the hell?
“Is there something else you need?” I mutter, trying to avoid gaining any more unwanted attention.
“I’ll tell you what I need—” He stops suddenly, glancing behind me and gritting his jaw.
After an eternity, he grumbles and takes the drink, releasing me in the process.
Relief rolls through me, and I chance a peek over my left shoulder, the direction Griff had been looking. Adam sits back against his seat, legs spread, slowly running his thumb beneath his bottom lip. He’s looking at Felix, but his attention on me is like an invisible grip warming my skin. Something flutters in my stomach. I notice the bags under his eyes, despite his freshly shaven jaw and otherwise sharp appearance.
Moving to Felix, I lower the tray and hand him a whiskey.
“There’s been no movement,” Felix is saying, looking between Adam and Raife. “Other than covering up the kid’s shit, he’s staying quiet.”
I frown before remembering I’m not supposed to be listening. Not that I’ll stop, but I don’t have to give myself away either.
I move on to Raife, who sits at his desk with his hands clasped behind his head.
Raife’s chuckle sends goose bumps down my arms. “Yeah, well, preparing to run for state senate will do that to a man.” His eyes follow me as he speaks, but I pretend not to notice.
A deep grumble sounds from Adam’s direction. “He won’t get that far.”
“I don’t know,” Raife murmurs. “I certainly like the idea of waiting till he does. More people to see it all blow up in his fucking face.”
Griff grunts from behind me. “I second that.”
“We’ve been over this. I’m not wasting my breath on it again while we could be discussing today’s . . .” Adam’s gaze finds me, and he grinds his jaw, “. . . appointment.”
My curiosity spikes more with every word they say. What the hell are they talking about?
“Everything’s prepped on my end,” Felix says, checking his watch then nodding at Griff. “His wife rescheduled her dental appointment, so you might want to wait an extra hour before doing your pickup.”
Finally, I reach Adam. For the first time, he looks straight at me. His eyelids lower, and I swear he’s burning me from that look alone. When he reaches for his glass, his finger grazes my thumb and warmth zips through me as my senses come alive.
I’ve barely seen him over the past week. Not for lack of trying, but he always seems to be locked inside one room or another. My cravings for his voice, his touch, the sinful fire in his eyes—it eats away at me stronger than anything I’ve felt before.
My bite mark pulses as his gaze travels down to my thigh. His fingers tense around the drink just before he snatches it from my hands.
I jerk when Aubrey leans over me to exchange a file under her arm with the one beside Adam, and Raife barks out a laugh. When I narrow my eyes toward him, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at Adam, much in the same way he did the very first night I arrived here. Like the pair of them are sharing a private joke—one that Raife alone finds amusing.
I swallow and back up a step, wishing I knew what those looks really meant. Turning to find Aubrey, I spot her leaning over Felix’s shoulder. She’s stroking his tie and whispering in his ear. Felix’s lips turn up, then he’s pulling her mouth to his and licking her face off. Awkwardness seizes me as I just stand there, not knowing if I should wait outside or stare, so I choose the latter.
She pulls up for air and walks toward the exit like she’d been simply stopping in for a quick hello.
I glance back at Adam, desperate for one more look, one more anything as long as it’s from him—but his stare is fixed on the blank wall opposite him.
A crazed spark flits across his tired eyes.
My brows pull down, but Aubrey grabs my hand and tugs me from the room before I can figure out what’s going on with him.
“Knock, knock,” Aubrey bellows through Felix’s closed door. I pull back to look at her. This is the most casual I’ve seen her act with any of the Matthews.
“Yeah, come on in.”
She looks at me, and her lips curve up like we’re in on the same secret. But she hasn’t told me why we need to make a stop in Felix’s office, so I don’t get it. I follow after her anyway, more curious than I let on because I’ve never seen the inside of his domain.
She strolls toward him with me trailing behind, then rests her ass on his desk and places one hand on her hip. She tilts her head to reveal a mark I hadn’t noticed on her neck. A hickey? “Really? Are we in high school?”
My eyes widen. I didn’t think we were allowed to speak to the Matthews like that. Not that it isn’t a perfectly normal way to speak—anywhere else.
He smirks, his eyes locked on hers as though it’s just the two of them in the room. “You said nothing permanent this time. It just came to me.” He shrugs. “You know, heat of the moment and all that.”
She rolls her eyes. “Raife doesn’t like it.”
Felix wipes a palm across his mouth and adjusts his bowtie. “Yeah well,
Raife’s not the one who discovered you and invited you here. So it could be said that, on principle alone, I win.” He grins.
A smile lifts her lips, and she mutters something in agreement, but I’ve stopped paying attention. Three huge monitors sit on Felix’s desk. Two of the screens are black, but the third and largest one is lit up with small squares.
Each square reflects a camera’s view of different rooms of the house.
My stomach tightens at my discovery. So Felix is the one monitoring the cameras. Right now at least. It’s not much, but it’s the first thing I’ve stumbled across that could be useful somehow.
Lip-smacking hits my ears, and Aubrey waves for me to leave as she mounts Felix’s lap. “You’re on break,” she murmurs through his mouth. “You’re welcome.”
My lips quirk. “Thanks.”
I quickly exit, closing the door behind me, and chew on my lip. This is the first time she’s let me go on break without her. I glance at the camera at the end of the hall, a rush of adrenaline pouring through me as ideas formulate in my mind. The person on watch is a little preoccupied at the moment.
Before I miss my chance, I travel down the stairs and turn left, stopping only once I reach the basement door. It’s cracked open again. I’m either remarkably lucky or terribly unlucky. Nerves wrack me as I flick my gaze down the empty hall and slip inside. A pitch-black cloud swallows me, just like before, but this time I’m prepared for the staircase. Finding a rail to my left, I carefully make my way down.
The stairs lead me to a wide, dimly lit hallway with cameras at both ends and several doors lining each side. Deadly silence fills my ears, and I breathe it in. It’s not easy to get a quiet like this, the kind that’s still and thin, fragile like it could break at any moment.
I slide my shoes off and carry them in my left hand, then slowly pad through the basement. There are four rooms I can see, but the hallway curves at the end, hinting at more. Each door is open, lights off, nothing but shadow over clinical tiled floors. After passing the third room, I glance over my shoulder and slink into the fourth.