Elah's Plaything

by Lydia Rowan

  Annoyance flared again. This woman seemed happy to defy him at every turn, something he’d have to address.

  “No, Charlotte. You’re free to do what you please, but he’s off-limits.”

  “How old are you?” she asked, the abrupt shift in the conversation catching him off guard.

  “Forty-one,” he said. “And you’re thirty-one.”

  “Right.”

  And with that, the conversation was effectively ended. They finished the meal in absolute silence, and while his companion displayed no outward signs of any emotional upset, she had turned into herself, shut him out, that shine in her eyes and the defiant set of her shoulders gone. He found he missed that side of her.

  “Are you done?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He settled the bill and walked her out to valet to wait for the car to be brought around. When they’d gotten in the car and left the restaurant, she said, “Do you know where I live?”

  “I know where you used to live.”

  “Meaning?” she asked as she looked over at him, her face a mask of skepticism.

  “Meaning it’s only proper that you live with your new husband.”

  She sighed. “Of course it is. Can I at least go get my belongings?”

  “No need; I have everything you’ll need.”

  She was clearly angrier than she had been at any other point during the day, but for some reason, Elah couldn’t allow himself to give in. Maybe he was just a sadistic bastard, but he was self-aware enough to admit that he didn’t want her returning to her apartment, looking at her things, her life. Changing her mind.

  “Fine.” She said what seemed to be her favorite word on a deep sigh, and though she leaned away from him, facing the window to watch the passing scenery, he felt compelled to glance at her intermittently during the trip.

  She really was an admirable person, and she didn’t really deserve to have her life uprooted. It was just an unfortunate coincidence of being born to scum. But still, he’d have to remember to treat her gently, give concessions where he could. He stopped at the gate leading to his house, and she displayed the first signs of life since their previous conversation. As they went up the driveway, they passed lush, green lawns, perfectly manicured because he’d accept nothing else. He stopped at the front entry, a grand staircase flanked by two columns, the stairs and wide porch leading to a double-doored entry.

  She spoke up as they exited the car. “Whoever does your gardening is a true artist. You have a great variety of flowers that give optimal visual mix and that work with the climate.”

  She sounded almost excited, and that lilt in her voice cheered him far more than it should have and far more than he wanted to acknowledge.

  “I’ll show you the back one day.”

  She smiled. “I’d like that very much.”

  “You garden?” he asked as they walked into the house.

  “My mother says every well-rounded young lady should know the basics. And there’s also a community garden. So I try, but mostly everything I work with dies and takes a couple of its neighbors with it. I’m beginning to suspect that I may not have the touch.”

  She smiled again and stifled a yawn. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s early yet, but it’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah, I’ll save the tour for some other time.”

  He led her up the wide, curving stairwell and into the hall, walking to the set of double doors at the very end. He opened the doors and ushered her in, trying to see the room as he imagined she would. The space was large, mahogany wood floors covered with strategically placed rugs in rich blues and tan. In one corner, a large mahogany credenza contained his AV equipment, while a low dresser held watches and other small trinkets, his clothing in the oversize walk-in closet. The bathroom was set in the corner opposite the bedroom door, the thin wooden pocket doors in no way reflecting the modern conveniences that were spirited away behind them. But by far, the centerpiece of the room was the oversize mahogany bed. The mattress was larger than a king, so Elah had had the frame built to accompany it, the tall headboard and low footboard delicately carved with swirled patterns, but the design mostly focused on showing off the beauty of the wood. Charlotte walked toward it and stopped when she reached it, tracing her fingers across the smooth, polished wood.

  “This is very lovely. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it.”

  “Probably not. It’s a custom piece.”

  “I can tell. You don’t get that level of quality or care from mass production. Elah…” She said his name tentatively, as if testing it out.

  He swung his gaze over to her.

  “This is nice, but it’s a bit much. Don’t you have a smaller guest room? I’d be fine with that.”

  “What kind of man would make his wife sleep in the guest room? This is my room, and you’re staying here with me.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind!”

  The instant she finished the sentence, her hand flew to her mouth, and her face was etched with an expression of horror.

  “And you’ve made me swear twice in one day!”

  He couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud, the scandalized look on her face as amusing as anything he’d seen for a very long time.

  “I’d thought about changing my mind, but I can’t now. The look on your face is too priceless.”

  The words seemed to snap her back, and with a deep breath and slight shake of her head, she regained her composure.

  “I’m so pleased to amuse you. But fine,” she said yet again, her sharp tone making it apparent things were anything but. “I’ll go through with this charade. But you might want to keep one eye open.” She leveled a narrow gaze at him, and he couldn’t tell how seriously to take the not so veiled threat, though he knew she posed no physical danger.

  “I always do, Charlotte.”

  She huffed a breath and turned, looking around the room. Her gaze settled on the bathroom door, and she walked toward it, entered, and closed the pocket door with as much refined huffiness as he thought he’d ever seen. He chuckled again. Even her tantrums were polite. Toeing off his shoes, he removed his cuff links and then his jacket and tossed them and then his pants in a messy pile in front of his closet. In deference to his guest—he wasn’t a total ass after all—he donned a T-shirt and pair of athletic shorts and climbed into his bed.

  As he waited, he reflected on the day. It had gone far better than he could have imagined. And it wasn’t just that the councilman had been broken, confusion, uncertainty, and uneasiness replacing arrogant self-regard. Seeing that had been undeniably satisfying, no doubt, but Charlotte had been something else altogether. Considering that he’d more or less coerced her into marriage and shattered, or at the very least sown seeds of doubt about, her view of her father, she’d been a surprisingly interesting companion, almost…fun. Which wasn’t something he had a lot of in his life.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening startled him awake. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep, but it seemed the day was catching up with him as well. Charlotte approached the bed slowly, her reluctance radiating from every step she took.

  “I can get you something more comfortable,” he said, and her gaze flew to him.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine,” she said as she stopped at the edge of the bed, her gaze flitting across the room, stopping briefly on his discarded clothing and then moving to him and across the expanse of the mattress that would separate them. She reached toward the covers.

  “So you’re going to sleep in your clothes?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am,” she said tersely. “If that’s all right with you.” Her tone dared him to argue.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Her face shifted into a smile that was more like a grimace. That expression quickly fell, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled back the duvet and lay underneath it but on top of the sheet. If it weren’t so funny, he’d be offended.

  “Sleep tight,” he said
and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Four

  When she woke the next morning, he was gone, which was probably a good thing. After those first few tense moments perched on the edge of his bed, batting down the voice that told her to run, she’d had no trouble falling asleep. And she didn’t think struggling to reconcile that fact with whatever he might have made her contend with this morning would have been prudent. She sank back into the plush bedding that was most likely responsible for the ease and comfort of last night’s rest, and considered her situation.

  She was married.

  To a stranger.

  Who hated her father and likely her by extension.

  And this stranger was threatening to destroy her father’s good name, and the sacrifice of his daughter was just the first step in her dad’s penance. Elah had flat-out refused to tell her why he was so fixated on Daddy, and she hadn’t yet had a chance to speak with her parents, so she was working with extremely limited information. So little, in fact, that she had no clue what was going on around her. That wouldn’t last, though. Lottie had gone through with this because she would do anything to protect her dad, just as he would for her, but that didn’t mean she had to sit back and accept things as they came. No, she would get to the bottom of this misunderstanding, make Elah realize that whatever grudge he held was mistaken, and get back to her life. That was the plan, anyway; simple, though she was sure it wouldn’t be easy.

  She burrowed deeper into the bed and pondered her new roommate. She chuckled at the thought. She might have to call him that to his face to see what kind of reaction she would get. Funny enough, he didn’t scare her, though by all rights he most definitely should. His reputation preceded him, but Lottie paid such things little attention. Her whole life, people had made assumptions about her, cast aspersions about the person they only saw as the councilman’s spoiled daughter with little regard for the truth. She’d hated it and sworn she’d never do the same and tried to live up to her word. Which meant Avakian got the benefit of the doubt, as much as the circumstances might dictate otherwise.

  So what did she know of the man, outside of speculation and rumors? He was a player in real estate and was probably a cut above because he’d seemingly been unaffected by the market crash that weakened so many other communities. She wondered if he was somehow connected to the city’s ability to weather the market storm fairly well. Something else to consider.

  What else? He seemed somewhat charitable. She’d first seen him at the hospital, but could recall other gifts of varying sizes to a number of organizations, though his staff had insisted they remain anonymous. That meant he was charitable but not for the reasons many other businessmen were. Another wrinkle, she supposed.

  And physically, she gulped, well, he was a…presence. She chuckled nervously into the empty room. That was the understatement of the millennium. Presence seemed such a small and petty word compared to what he actually was. The sun. That was a more fitting analogy. He sucked people in and made them a part of his orbit. And like the sun, he exuded energy, a vitality that made people want to get closer, but ever present was the danger. He would burn her to a crisp if she got too close.

  But damn it if she didn’t want to. He was a bastard, cruel, callous, particularly when it came to her father. But still… The little voice that she couldn’t ignore, the one she so desperately wanted to, whispered his appeal, made it impossible to pretend that he didn’t call out to the woman in her. She wished she could blame it on hormones, but that wasn’t it. His features were harsh, too raw to be handsome, but even more, his icy-cold expression killed any chance that he could be considered conventionally good-looking. Strong jaw, full lips made thinner by the harsh set of his mouth, hawkish nose, slashing brown eyebrows that matched his brown hair over dark eyes so brown they looked black—those eyes were absent light, absent emotion of any kind, almost reptilian in their flat intensity. But even despite that, his huge, heavily muscled frame made her feel feminine, petite, something she hadn’t ever experienced in her life. She’d long ago accepted that she’d always be taller, be considered fuller figured, something else if people were feeling particularly cruel, than most other women. Not with him, though. She had to look up to see into his eyes, a novel occurrence for a woman of her six-foot height, and standing next to him, her large, broad-shouldered frame didn’t seem quite so abnormal. Heck, even his hands had totally engulfed hers, something else that had never happened to her before. In truth, his physicality made her want to swoon.

  And she’d seen something in him yesterday, at least thought she had. There’d been a small glint in his eye when he’d pushed that awful ring onto her finger, but he’d noticed her looking at him and quickly suppressed it, leaving only that cold blackness in its wake. But the moment had proven that there was something underneath, and Lottie would uncover it—and hope that it was good, maybe a way out of this mess. But she needed to be careful. As physically appealing as he was, he’d displayed a ruthlessness that she’d have to be wary of.

  She sat up and pulled off the covers. As much as she may have wanted to, she couldn’t stay in it all day hiding. Of course the king of reasonableness hadn’t taken her back to her apartment yesterday, so she didn’t have a fresh change of clothes. And then it struck her that having ridden with him, she was without a vehicle, and her phone was who knew where. After she’d texted Isis, she’d put it somewhere, but after that whirlwind day, she couldn’t even begin to recall where that somewhere might be.

  So she was stranded, alone and without clothes and communication in the dragon’s nest. A stunning departure from the meal with a friend, work, and TV she’d contemplated yesterday. She smoothed the wrinkled blouse and irregularly creased pants she’d slept in last night. Not ideal, but they’d have to do for the moment. Next up, she needed a bathroom. She headed to the room and then stopped.

  Sure, she’d slept next to him, but he’d demanded it, and with the enormity of the bed and the space that had separated them, she had almost convinced herself it was no more intimate than an especially uncomfortable train ride. And yes, she’d used the facilities last night, but this morning doing so took on a different dimension. He brushed his teeth in there, for God’s sake. Shaking her head, she backed away. Today, this was a step too far. She headed back through the bedroom door and walked down the stairs. A house this size had to have more than one bathroom, and she would find an alternative.

  Though she hadn’t had a full tour, those parts of the house that she’d seen last night were doubly grand in the light of day. The mahogany floors of the staircase gleamed, and the tall ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the front of the house let in a shock of sunlight that made the rooms glow. To the left of the main doors, she noticed what was probably the kitchen, so when she completed her descent, she headed to the right and down a tucked-away hallway. The door at the end was closed, but nature called, so she opened it.

  This must be Elah’s combination study/office. The entire room was done in wood and leather with large wood furniture. The desk and credenza were separated by a brown leather sofa and coffee table, and the window was covered with brown wood blinds. She noticed a door to the left and rushed toward it, feeling a surge of relief when she found the bathroom.

  After she’d taken care of the essentials, she came back into the room, looking for a phone, certain her parents and friend were anxious to hear from her. She walked to his desk, settled in the large brown tufted chair, and leaned back. The phone at the corner of his desk caught her eye, so she turned toward it, but her fingers stilled and the hair on the back of her neck rose as she reached for it.

  He’d moved silently, stealthily, but that tingling awareness told her that he stood behind her. And for some reason, she knew he was not pleased. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then she turned to face him. His navy suit fit him to perfection, and his hulking form filled the door frame. But what caught and held her was his dark, dark gaze, flinty hard and ice-cold, anger clea
r in it, but underneath that, an incongruous hint of disappointment.

  She stood, hoping to somehow pull the power balance between them at least a little in her favor.

  “I won’t abide snooping, Charlotte.”

  His voice was as cold as his eyes, but she refused to be apologetic. This was his doing; she would not take the blame for whatever he perceived as her trespasses.

  “My name is Lottie, and I won’t abide being stuck in a strange place with no transportation and no communication.”

  He said nothing, which was, to Lottie, a concession. He walked toward her and placed something on the edge of the desk.

  “These should take care of at least one of those problems.”

  She looked at the items and determined one was a key for a car, a very nice car, in fact. Underneath was a black credit card with the words CHARLOTTE AVAKIAN engraved on it.

  “That’s not my name,” she said.

  “It will be soon enough.”

  “Wait; we didn’t discuss this.”

  “What’s to discuss? We’re married. You are no longer a Trufant.” He spoke like what he said made all the sense in the world.

  “And these keys. I have a car, Elah. And I don’t need your money.”

  “That car, your clothes, everything is at least partially attributable to your father. I won’t have anything of his in my home.”

  “Except me,” she said sarcastically.

  “Exactly.”

  He smiled that cold smile, and she wanted to slap his face. Instead, she grabbed the key and credit card and headed toward the door that he still blocked with that huge body of his.

  “And where are you headed this morning?”

  “Maybe I just want to get away from you,” she said snidely.

  But he just chuckled at the rude response and then said, “I wouldn’t doubt it, and you’re not a prisoner here. But,” he said, his voice remaining even but allowing no room for argument, “don’t go to his office, Charlotte. You don’t work for him anymore. Ever.”