If he was downstairs, what would it hurt for me to take a quick look?
After all, I just wanted a peek.
I reached for the knob.
Kader
“Fuck.” The sentiment ran through my mind as the image of Laurel appeared on the screen over the kitchen counter. I owned a house that talked. She should have known—or at least assumed—that it was all well-surveyed.
Taking a deep breath, I stilled the knife in my hand, the one that I’d been using to cut vegetables. The blade now lingered in midair as I continued to watch.
Laurel Carlson, it seems you like to misbehave.
That thought shouldn’t cause a redirection of my circulation. It shouldn’t, but it did.
On the screen, the door to my bedroom opened inward and her curious expression came into view. I should be furious, yet I was struck by her image, her simplistic beauty. Her blue eyes were wide as she took in the space around her. Her long hair was smooth, the waves she’d had in the basement gone, the length hanging down her back like a dark veil swaying over her curves with each step
Perhaps, I was as mystified by her curiosity as much as I was my own.
What did she expect to find?
Why wasn’t I stopping this?
When it came to my room, I had nothing to hide—as long as I wasn’t present. It wasn’t like I had a sex dungeon.
I half chuckled to myself.
Hell no.
Watching Laurel inside my private space, the pitiful truth hit me with the force of a ton of bricks. Dr. Laurel Carlson was the first woman to enter my bedroom. The professionals I’d hired for physical relief didn’t make house calls. I wouldn’t have allowed that if they did.
Perhaps, it wasn’t one hundred percent accurate that Laurel was the first woman. Before I’d moved into this house, I’d hired an interior decorator—a woman. We never met in person. Via emails, I suggested ideas and then stepped back, mostly allowing her to take over. There wasn’t much I had an opinion about—colors, lighting, surfaces, none of it mattered. It was the view and the expanse of land that attracted me to this property.
The house just was.
Why did my house now feel different seeing Laurel where I’d told her not to go?
The small hairs near the nape of my neck stood to attention as I lowered the knife to the counter and gripped the edge of the granite. She wasn’t being quick. No, she was lingering as she took it all in.
A bed, bedside stands, and other regular bedroom furnishings were her tantalizing discoveries. She stilled momentarily next to the glass doors, perhaps to see past the panes. It was too dark to see beyond the glass with the lights on. She’d need to go outside onto the balcony to see. The doors were closed but not locked. Inaccessible from the outside due to the steep drop-off, I rarely thought to lock them. Besides, the house would tell me if they were opened. Laurel’s small hand reached out. A shake of her head and she turned, her mind seemingly changed.
My pulse increased as Laurel stepped toward the desk along the far wall. If I hadn’t turned off the screen to that computer, she’d be seeing herself. Instead, she ran her hand over the glossy surface before turning and stepping toward the attached bathroom.
The cameras were motion activated, following her movements as if I were in there with her. My heart thumped behind my breastbone as the air around me warmed. My mind was at odds with my body. I could be upstairs in less than a minute, catch her in the act.
And do what?
Yell at her.
Punish her.
Lock her in her room.
It wouldn’t be unwarranted. I’d stated the rules clearly. What I’d earlier considered curiosity at entering my bedroom was more accurately disobedience.
How fucking hard was it for her to follow directions?
My breath caught in my chest as Laurel stooped down—her nice round ass in the air. If I was a betting man, I’d say there were no panty lines beneath the pants she wore. Shit, she picked up the towel that I’d used after my shower and after folding it, placed it over the rack.
Fine. I wasn’t immaculate.
Didn’t it occur to her that I’d know it had been moved?
Did she care?
This woman on the screen and in my house should be afraid of me, and yet not only wasn’t she scared, she had no problem openly defying me. I wasn’t certain if that pissed me off or turned me on. The hard-on growing in my jeans led me to believe it was the latter.
Clenching my jaw, I looked around the kitchen. There was a salad large enough for two on the center island beside a bottle of wine I’d retrieved from the cellar on a whim. Though the flame of the burner wasn’t turned on, the mushrooms and onions were nearly ready to be sautéed in a waiting frying pan, and on a platter, were two raw filet mignon steaks ready to be grilled.
Fuck it.
Dinner could wait.
Wiping my hands on a nearby towel, I knew what I needed to do.
Laurel
The magnitude of what I was doing—going against Kader’s earlier decree—hit me as I stood at the entry to his closet. This was his private world, and I was witnessing it firsthand—no, I was trespassing. The racks of clothes before me made my chest ache, rows of long-sleeved shirts and long pants.
Kader told me that he’d never had a guest and that he would sometimes spend weeks alone. Yet even in private, he kept his colors hidden.
Why?
That discovery combined with the total lack of personalization of his bedroom affected me more than I’d anticipated. Unlike the dresser in the bedroom he’d declared as mine, Kader’s didn’t have an attached mirror. The only mirror in his space was a small oval one over his vanity in the bathroom. There were no pictures of family or friends. No remembrances of days gone by.
I thought about my bedroom at home, the one I would never be able to return to without thinking of Russ. On the mantel of the fireplace were pictures, wonderful memories with my parents, my niece, as well as me and my sister. There were photos of friends from different times in my life.
Kader didn’t have one, not one.
The sorrow was overwhelming as the atmosphere shifted.
A more powerful aroma of Kader’s cologne filled my senses. I’d noticed it when I first entered, but now it was stronger. My senses were on alert—the small hairs on my arms standing tall, the sound of my breathing magnified.
What had earlier been curiosity was now crushing remorse.
My reaction was not limited to my thoughts—my entire body reacted. Holding onto the doorjamb to Kader’s closet, my hands began to tremble, perspiration coated my recently cleaned skin, and tears formed in my eyes. Blinking them away, I worked to slow my increasing pulse and catch my breath before a full-blown panic attack overwhelmed me.
I had one thought. I needed to get out of Kader’s space.
Now.
Taking a deep breath, I spun toward the door to the hallway.
“Oh!” My hands reflectively came to my chest, grasping one another.
Shit.
Kader’s dark stare sabotaged my escape. The taut cords in his neck and the fisting and unfisting of his hands were the most notable signs revealing his displeasure.
“I-I’m sorry.” An apology was the only thing I could think to say. It wasn’t a lie. I was sorry I’d gone against his wishes. I was sorry for what I’d seen. There weren’t words capable of articulating my remorse any further or more elaborately.
I was sorry, period.
His lips twitched before his head tilted. “Everyone says that after getting caught.” He took a step toward me and then another. The boots he wore tapped against the hardwood floor, his height dwarfing me with each step. He ran the tip of his finger over my cheek and feigned a smile. “Do you know how many people resort to meaningless apologies when they realize their time is up?”
I took a step back, holding his gaze. “You’re trying to scare me.”
Another step closer, another step backward. Togethe
r it was a waltz.
“I’m not trying,” he said, “but you should be.”
The rich birch cologne that had been lingering in the bedroom grew even stronger as he neared. His hair was combed and tethered at the nape of his neck, but unlike earlier, his cheeks were now smooth, making his clenched jaw and the tenseness of his facial muscles more pronounced.
I stood taller. “I’m not.”
Kader’s head shook from side to side, yet our battle of wills continued, neither of us willing to break eye contact. Within his stare was something different than he’d shown me before. There was a battle raging within his green orbs, one that only he was fighting. Its presence rippled around us in waves.
“Why, Laurel?”
“I was...I’m curious by nature. You said not to and well, I wanted to know why.”
“No,” he said. “Why the fuck aren’t you afraid? Grown men have emptied their bladders when confronted by me, often without a damn word from my lips. When I meet their stare, they know. They instinctively know the truth about what I do and what I’m capable of doing. They know that their destiny has been set.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he momentarily closed his eyes. “Why don’t you fucking see it?”
My head shook in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His masseter muscle grew prominent with the increased clenching of his jaw. Kader reached for my shoulders, his grasp progressively tightening as my answer floated away.
“I told you,” he said. “You know what I do, how I found you, and why I found you.”
The battle behind his eyes pained me more than the vise grip on my shoulders. Instead of answering, I leaned into him, pushing against his hold until my cheek met his chest and my arms surrounded his torso. Beneath the softness of his shirt, Kader’s heart thumped like the beat of a drum, its cadence calling to me as either a song of peace or a battle cry. I wasn’t sure which.
I wrapped my arms tighter, and yet beneath my embrace, his stone-hard muscles tightened, transforming from a man to a granite statue, one with a heartbeat and warmth. This man, for some reason, wanted to believe that he wasn’t a person with emotions and needs. He wanted to believe he was a cold sculpture, but that wasn’t what I saw.
Finally, his grasp of my shoulders loosened and his strong arms encompassed me, holding me to him as I was him to me. I closed my eyes. Time passed. We stood that way in silence, surrounded only by the sound of our breath and heartbeats until finally I let go of his torso. The mascara I’d applied now smudged his blue shirt and probably created circles under my eyes. I looked up. “Kader, who are you and what happened?”
His nostrils flared as he exhaled, and his lids closed, taking away the embattled green. “Listen, Laurel, don’t.”
I swallowed. “You told me what you do and why you found me. I’m not afraid of you. I want to know you, to help you, as you’ve helped me.”
He shrugged. “I’ll let you know if I have a dead lover for you to clean up.”
I staggered backward as if instead of using cruel words, he’d physically assaulted me. My neck straightened while the shutting of my eyes prompted another tear to descend my cheek.
“Fuck, that was a shitty thing to say,” Kader said, reaching for my chin and wiping the tear with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve told you. I’m not a good man. I’m not sure why you don’t see that. The fact that you don’t is fucking with my head. It needs to end. You want your life back. So do I.
“I’m going to do my best to either get you your life back or get you a new one, somewhere where you are safe.” His head shook. “That sure as hell isn’t with me.”
The crushing ache in my chest was back. My temples throbbed and stomach churned.
With my lips together, I gave him one last nod and took another step back. The new position cleared my path to the door. Taking it, I walked past him and began my escape. “Fine, get rid of me. I didn’t ask to come here.” My ire grew with each step.
How dare he throw Russ at me like that.
I spun back toward him, my fist coming to my hip and volume rising. “If you ever decide to lose the tough-guy act—or maybe understand that in reality it’s a shield, one so damn big you should be exhausted from carrying it day in and day out...” Opening my fist, I slapped the side of my thighs. “Whatever, in the meantime, I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
It could be called women’s intuition or even a scientist’s gut. All I knew was that I specialized in traumatic memories and identifying common coping mechanisms and cues, such as isolationism and insomnia.
Kader had both in excess.
“I’m not one of your clients or participants, Doc.”
“I never said you were.” I swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still here and not because I want to be. Nothing has really changed since the basement. I’m still caged.” I gestured around. “Sure, it’s bigger and there’s an outside, but I can’t leave, which I believe is the definition of being held captive. Kidnapping across state lines is a felony offense.”
He shrugged. “You need to start listening to what I say. Illegal activity is what I do. Stop trying to analyze me. You wouldn’t like what you find. It’s not a pretty story with a happy ending.”
“Kader, I’m not...I just thought...” Swallowing back tears, I let out a long breath and shook my head. “You know what? Obviously, my thoughts don’t matter. I’m going to bed.” I turned away, no longer wanting to see him.
Fuck him and his obsession to hide his secrets.
“You need to eat.”
His voice floated down the hallway. I didn’t respond. My steps grew faster as I turned away from the stairs and ran toward my room, suddenly grateful that I had my own space.
“Laurel?”
Kader
I repeated her name, “Laurel.” It didn’t matter. She wasn’t turning back.
Fuck me.
I ran my hand over my hair, tugging at the rubber band and shaking the length loose. My skin felt tight, tighter than the scars, as if it were being pulled taut from the inside. I yanked at the collar of my shirt and again tugged on my hair. Hell, it wasn’t enough. If only I could do more—pull the damn hair from my scalp. Rip it out from its roots and leave bloody chunks to dry on the damn floor. My goal was to inflict the pain on myself that I’d given to her. I wanted to feel it, to drown in it.
These foreign sensations had me in uncharted territory.
Mentioning Cartwright was a shitty thing to do. I knew that as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Yet I didn’t care until it was too late.
Because I didn’t care—about anyone or anything.
That was the lie that I was finding more difficult to believe. Even now, I knew it was wrong, but I craved more—more stimulation, more something, more of what I couldn’t have.
Stalking to the bedroom door, I slammed it shut. The sound echoed in my ears as I stared at the neighboring wall. My hand balled into a fist. For longer than I care to admit, I contemplated the possibility of punching through the plaster. In my mind’s eye I saw it happening. The plaster turning to dust as my fist made contact, breaking through the surface while my knuckles ached.
Would that give me the pain I sought?
Would it take the anguish away from Laurel?
Would I find relief?
It wouldn’t. I wouldn’t—ever.
Taking a breath, I ran my palm over my face—over my forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth. The skin of my cheeks was uncharacteristically smooth, absent its normal facial hair.
Fuck me.
I’d showered, shaved, and put on cologne before going downstairs and preparing to cook our dinner. I scoffed at myself, recalling the bottle of wine.
A sarcastic laugh bubbled from my throat.
What a fucking joke to think that Laurel and I could dine like a normal couple, even like two normal individuals. I wasn’t normal. In a few long strides, I was within the attached bathroom. My gaze went from the towel she’d hung up o
ver the rack to the small mirror over the sink. The decorator had wanted a larger one, saying this one was disproportionate to the vanity.
It was one of the few things I insisted upon.
As my eyes met my own, I spoke through gritted teeth. “Get this assignment done. She’s fucking with your mind. Stop pretending that there’s something special about her or about you. You are not special nor will you ever be—never again, even if maybe once you were.” I mumbled the last part or maybe I only thought it.
Laurel Carlson had me wondering about things I’d never before cared to know. It was a dangerous trail. One thought led to another. The look on her face when I mentioned Cartwright came crashing back.
My fingers blanched as I gripped the edge of the vanity and doubled over. Fuck, her hurt expression. The words I’d spoken hit like a damned sledgehammer to the gut. The memory wasn’t any kinder.
Lifting my chin, my stare returned to my own.
No. This is wrong.
Turning off the light, I returned to my bedroom and scanned the room, looking for something.
What the fuck did she see?
There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing different from millions of other bedrooms.
Again I tugged at my collar. I’d rip the damn shirt off if I could guarantee we wouldn’t run into one another. She’d been right. This wasn’t different than the basement. It had been fine before—now I was claustrophobic.
Going to the glass doors, I opened one inward. The cold, fresh air hit me with a cooling gust as snowflakes swirled through the air. There was probably at least three fresh inches on the railing, all accumulating since our arrival. The view beyond was shrouded in darkness, only the new coating of white visible. The new snow didn’t surprise me. The dark clouds over the mountains as we’d approached warned of the impending storm. Even in the springtime, this area was susceptible to snow accumulation measured in feet not inches.
Inhaling and exhaling, I filled my lungs with the icy air as I tried to make sense of what had happened.
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