His Property (Book Four)

by Hannah Ford

  “Thank you.” I watch him leave, shuffling down the hallway then slowly disappearing down the stairs. Then, I slide into the room next door and continue unpacking my things and trying to make a home for myself.

  At night, I play with Lilly Belle, giving her plenty of tummy time, so she’ll roll over like she’s supposed to by this age. Seems like she’s a tad behind developmentally, but then again, she has been through a lot in her short life. No worries, though—I’ll get her back on track soon enough.

  She’s a delightful child, and I’m so glad she’s as easy as she is, considering how tough it will be dealing with her uncle. After a warm lavender bath, a full bottle, and a lullaby or two, she’s ready for bed. I do hope she’ll sleep through ‘til morning, and after all the exercises I put her through tonight, she should sleep soundly.

  I call my mom to let her know I’ve been fine, just busy the last three days, but the focus of the conversation shifts quickly. “That’s so great, honey. Just in time, too.”

  “What do you mean?” I don’t like the tone in her voice, leading me to ask questions she’ll no doubt have a hard time answering. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, only that we’re late a couple of mortgage payments. The Etsy store isn’t bringing in enough money, your dad has been searching for something better, and I know I’m going to have to start looking for something full-time.”

  “Ugh, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

  My mother has been running an Etsy store of handmade scarves, which are absolutely beautiful, but not enough people appreciate artistry like hers, making for difficult bill-paying. “I’ll send you money as soon as I get paid,” I tell her, thinking how much it sucks to keep giving away half my paycheck. At this rate, I’ll never be able to pay for my winter semester.

  I look around at the stylish furnishings, the mansion I get to live in, and feel guilty. My family needs the money more than I do. If I can stay employed by Ethan Townsend, that is.

  “I didn’t want to worry you, Penelope, but I didn’t want to keep secrets from you either. You don’t have to send money. Well, maybe just a little to get us by. I’ll get a job by the end of the week, if it kills me.”

  “What about the kids?”

  “Patty can take care of Callie, and Nancy next door can watch Brandon, since she has two boys anyway. Don’t worry, we’ll make it work somehow.”

  “Don’t worry” is my mom’s favorite phrase, and it does little to soothe my worries.

  After hanging up, I move to the window and gaze out upon New York City at night. It’s then that I notice I have a balcony. An actual balcony facing the city. How did I not notice this before? Oh, yes, three busy days of child-care.

  I open the French door and stand outside in the cool air. The full moon is out, absolutely gorgeous, and again, I feel guilty for having a view such as this. I hope things get better for my family. I get to look out upon Central Park and take care of a delightful little baby. It’s a blessing to give back to my family.

  Lying in bed, I have trouble falling asleep. New surroundings, new sounds, and besides, I’m used to sleeping with very little on, but with Ethan Townsend set to come home any moment now, I’m wide awake. I wonder if he’ll go straight to the kitchen and living room like he usually does, or if he’ll go to his bedroom, which is on the other side of this wing. I know he never stops by to see Lilly Belle, which saddens me. Remembering his rule about keeping the door locked, I get up and follow orders then head for the bathroom.

  Such a strange man.

  But I have to remember what Wilson told me—his childhood upbringing wasn’t ideal. Something made him this way. I only wish I knew what that was. It’d help me understand him better.

  I shuffle barefoot to the bathroom to rub water on my face. Maybe the cool air drifting through the slightly open French door will evaporate the moisture, creating a soothing effect. I still remember long nights as a child when I was sick, and my mother used to cool me off with a damp washcloth. Between that and her singing, I’d fall asleep right away. It’s worth a shot.

  I return to bed and lie there staring up at the ceiling, my legs stretched out and my arms on either side. The chilly air works its magic, and I begin drifting off, thinking about the day, Ethan’s demands, his angular handsome face, his terrible attitude, and how mysterious he is. Does he ever have relationships? I wonder how a woman would get along with him.

  But I keep coming back to Wilson saying there are other sides to him, which intrigues me.

  Somewhere in the house, I hear footsteps. Wilson went home several hours ago, so it must be Ethan coming home from work.

  After a while, I hear careful footsteps moving up the stairs. I don’t bother covering up, because I’m locked in my room, just like he demanded I be. For a moment, I allow myself to fantasize that I left the door open, that he comes in and sees me in my undies. And then what?

  Would he yell at me? Would I beg him not to fire me by sucking his cock?

  Jesus, Penelope, get a freakin’ grip.

  Suddenly, I hear what sounds like a handle turning. I startle and sit up in bed, drawing the sheets up to my chin. But I locked the door. I know I did! I stare at the door but it doesn’t open and neither is the handle turning. Am I imagining it? I stand to double-check the lock but before I can test it, I see him standing in the bathroom doorway.

  My heart stops. I can barely breathe. I wrap my arms around my torso, fighting off sudden chills. “Mr. Townsend…”

  “I thought I told you to keep the door locked at night,” he growls, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeved shirt and rolling them up. He has tattoos on his forearms.

  “I—but I did. This door is…how did you…” The bathroom. He came in through the bathroom’s second door—not the one to the bedroom, but the one to the hallway. Damn it. I’m so stupid. “I’m so sorry. That was my fault.”

  “Indeed it was your fault, Miss Wallach.” He crosses his arms and gazes at my body in the feeble moonlight coming in through the French door. “And why is that door open?”

  “I like the breeze at night. I can close it, though, if you want. I’m so sorry…” I make for the door, but he stops me.

  “No, leave it. It’s fine. I like what it does to you.”

  Does to me?

  His gaze falls to my chest, and I know that my nipples are hard and aching. I don’t stop to think about it often, because I’m so busy surviving life, but I need a man. Sometimes I feel my body will explode. Ethan steps into the room and looks around, as if to see what I’ve been up to. I don’t know what it is about him, but he makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong even when I haven’t. I feel naughty in his presence, and though I didn’t have an aggressive father growing up, I feel like he’s going to spank me for being insolent.

  Isn’t that what he called me on Monday? Something about impertinent?

  Shivering in my tee and panties, I feel so naked and vulnerable in his presence, but I do nothing to cover myself up. Because I’m also titillated by his presence, his tall form looming in the darkness, his eyes roving over my body, part of me is thrilled that he’s seeing me this way. Suddenly, I fully realize why he wanted me to lock the door—because of this. There’s undeniable and unspoken heat between us, even in the cool, dark room. He steps closer to me, as my heartbeat races, and I swallow a lump in my throat.

  My throat.

  Where I imagine him kissing me, biting the soft flesh of my lips, forcing my mouth open, where he’ll then plunge himself—

  No. Stop, stop, stop. I have to stop these random sexual thoughts of my boss from popping up at the most wrong of times.

  A warm flush spreads over my body, and if Ethan had no idea what I was thinking up until this moment, well he does now. Jesus, I want him so badly. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly and never imagined my boss this way. I was too busy thinking of him as an asshole, but now that he’s here in my room, staring at me with those eyes, sucking on his inner lip, fighting his lustful male need
, seeing right through me, all I want is for him to put me out of my misery and take me.

  “Clearly you’re not fit for this job, Miss Wallach.” He takes a slow step toward me “I should have listened to my intuition when I told you to leave earlier. It was one simple rule.”

  “Forgive me for forgetting about the bathroom door,” I nearly hiss, staying in control. I cross my arms over my chest so he’ll stop looking at my breasts even though they long for his touch. So hard trying to stay proper when I want so much for him to strip me. “It was an honest mistake.”

  Ethan’s eyes flare with fire as he stares at my body and into my eyes. His burn with anger, but now I think it’s more with himself than it is with me. He can’t control himself around me, can he? He didn’t want to hire me because I am attractive to him, not the other way around. I get it now. The realization fills me with confidence and power. Now that I see him as weak flesh and blood, as just a man, he’s becoming more human to me. And more human means more appealing…

  I step over to him, fighting my lust with every ragged breath. Even though I’ve only been with one guy my entire life, and it was terrible enough to forget, my body’s desperate need is driving me. Rein, my high school boyfriend for three months, could never compare to this experienced, powerful man standing before me. Not the same neighborhood, not even the same universe. In the same moment, Ethan takes a confident step toward me and before I know it, he’s pulled me into his arms.

  Magnetic.

  Commanding.

  I’m weak and submissive to his desire. Or maybe it’s my desire for him that manifested this. Either way, I’ve only dreamed of arms like his—strong, outrageously muscular—and a body like his, and now…of a mouth like his, consuming and taking me into his relentlessly. He doesn’t let me go, nor do I want him to. I couldn’t stop now even if I tried.

  His tongue tastes of hot mint and freshness as it licks, explores…

  What the hell is happening? I’m kissing my boss, that’s what, and his stubble grazes my face. This is so wrong, but I can’t think about the consequences right now, because my body grows weaker, and I quickly begin falling down a spiral, knowing for a fact that I won’t be a nanny at this home for much longer. After failing this first test, I’m sure to be fired.

  Screw it. At the moment, I don’t care. Because he feels fucking amazing, and I’m a woman held by a man’s power before I’m anything else.

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