3. Corey
3
COREY
M r. Marchesi closed the door behind him. I shivered as I stood staring at the spot where he’d been and listening to his uneven gait as he retreated down the hall.
Damn, he was hot. Talk about a silver fox. And the scars on his face made him even sexier, in a dangerous way. I’d been warned he wasn’t talkative, but no one had prepared me for howturned on I was going to be around him.
What had given him the scars? Why was he so cold, and how deep did his frostiness go? It would be a shame if a man who looked thatfuckinggood was cold all the way through, not that it would do me any good. He clearly didn’t want me here, and it was safest to assume he was straight.
He had given me a thorough once-over. I’d caught that, but he was probably just assessing whether he thought I’d be any use in a fight. I wouldn’t be, but I wasn’t sure if he could tell that. I hit the gym regularly, but I’d never hit a person, and I sure as hell hadn’t used a gun. Mr. Marchesi looked like he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a man in the face if he needed to—or wanted to.
I pulled out my phone and typed his name in my internet browser. Dominic Marchesi. He even sounded dangerous.
Isn’t that exactly what you need—a dangerous man to protect you?
I supposed it was, but that didn’t stop me from being torn between being terrified of him and wanting to fall to my knees and beg to suck his dick.
And the not-talking thing? That was going to drive me crazy.
I tried a few different searches but came up with nothing. He was basically a ghost. I found one picture of him with an older man who, based on their resemblance, was related to him. They looked amazing, both in tuxedos standing on a podium. A sign behind him indicated that they were at a charity auction. There was no date posted, but the picture had been taken before Dominic got the scars on his face.
The accompanying article confirmed that they were attending an art auction and gave their names as Dominic and Frank Marchesi, but it contained no further details. I kept searching, but I couldn’t find anything else about him. It was like he no longer existed.
I considered unpacking, but I decided to check out my room first, so I put my phone back in my pocket and wandered into the ensuite bathroom. It was much larger than I’d expected. There was a shower stall with bright blue tile and a clawfoot tub that I could soak in. At least I could pamper myself while I was here.
The lighting around the mirrors over the sink was fantastic. I’d actually be able to tell how badly the stress was fucking up my skin. Dominic might be cold and unwilling to chat, but I knew I could be somewhere much worse. I also knew I’d go crazy with no one to talk to.
I peeked under the luxurious king-size bed but there was nothing there, not even a dust bunny. I pulled back the comforter and nearly moaned when I felt the soft sheets. This guy might be a cold bastard, but he knew how to live.
As expected, the closet and dresser were completely empty. No further clues about Mr. Marchesi or anyone else who’d stayed here. I sighed and hoisted my suitcase onto the bed. At least I had plenty of room for the belongings I’d managed to stuff inside.
When I was almost done unpacking, I heard footsteps. Was Mr. Marchesi was coming back already?
I opened the door as he raised his fist to knock.
He huffed but didn’t look surprised. Without saying a word, he turned around and began to walk down the hall with halting steps. I heard him sucking in his breath as he put his weight onto his left leg. What had happened to him, and why wasn’t he using a cane or something else to help him walk? We started down the stairs. It was all I could do not to offer my arm. He held onto the banister with his unscarred hand and moved slowly. I kept the same pace and didn’t say a word. I was sure he wouldn’t appreciate either an offer of help or me speeding past him.
We stopped at a room with an imposing mahogany desk, which I assumed was an office. He paused in the doorway and gestured for me to enter ahead of him. I took one of the cushioned seats in front of the desk, then glanced back at him. He was holding onto the door frame with his eyes closed.
I saw a cane leaning against his desk, so I grabbed it and held it out to him. “Would you like this?”
The look he gave me sent shivers down my spine. Talk about cold. I expected to see icicles forming in the room. He could give Elsa a run for her money. “I’m fine. If I need that, I will get it myself. Don’t make assumptions.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I was trying to be helpful.”
“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
Wow. What had made him so bitter? He did give in and use the cane to walk from the door to his desk. I forced myself to keep a straight face, even though I wanted to smile.
Could I make a project out of him? That was probably a stupid idea, but something told me that there was a decent person inside. He’d just been hiding himself away—at least that seemed to be the case. Clearly, he didn’t want my help, but what if I didn’t give him a choice? We were stuck together for who knew how long.
He leaned the cane against his desk and sat in the large leather chair. “There are things you need to know, and I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”
“I’m a good listener,” I said.
He glared at me for a moment, then turned to look out the window.
I followed his gaze, but I didn’t see anything outside. Maybe he just didn’t want to look at me anymore. Was he that bothered by me? Was it my presence? Was it having to protect me? Was it the fact that I’d noticed he needed help?
“You do not, under any circumstances, leave this house.” That was a rule I’d expected. “You don’t go in any room except the living room, the sunroom, the kitchen, and your bedroom. I like my privacy, and I won’t have you disturb it more than you already have.”
There was no reason for him to be so angry with me. “I’m not the enemy. I’m actually the victim here—the one who’s trying to be a good citizen, the one who walked into something I never wanted to see or be a part of.”
Mr. Marchesi looked shocked that I’d spoken. Honestly, I’d surprised myself with my outburst, but that didn’t stop me from continuing.
“I didn’t want to have my life uprooted. I’ve lost my job and—at least temporarily—my apartment. I don’t want to die. I’m not going to leave unless you tell me to.” I didn’t say anything about staying out of forbidden rooms. I couldn’t promise how tempted I might get. I was going to be bored out of my mind here.
“This isn’t your fault,” Mr. Marchesi said. The words were cold and sharp, not matching the sentiment. “I live alone for a reason.”
“Why did you agree to help me?”
“There are things I know about this case that others don’t.”
What the fuck did that mean? “Like what?”
He shook his head. “That’s not something I intend to discuss. Meals will be provided for you. You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen if you want to eat at other times. If there’s anything you need, let my housekeeper know, and she will get it for you.”
“Will you keep me updated on what’s going on with the investigation?”
“No.” It wasn’t just that he didn’t talk a lot, silence seemed to surround him like a cloak. The words he said were quiet and didn’t project more than a few feet.
“I deserve to know what’s happening and how long I’m going to be here. That’s a reasonable request.”
“I’m not interested in what’s reasonable. The only thing you need to know is that you will be protected.”
“I’m expected to testify, but I don’t really know what’s going on.”
Mr. Marchesi waved away my concern. “Someone else will coach you on what to say before you appear in court.”
What did that mean? Were they going to tell me what to say and expect me to stick to a script? Was that a threat? “What am I supposed to do until then? Just sit and stare at the walls?”
“I assume you have a phone and a laptop?”
“I do, but I don’t have your internet password.”
“I have made you a guest network. The password is the last four digits of your social security number.”
“How the hell did you—never mind.” I might as well assume he knew everything about me. X certainly seemed to.
“You have a television in your room. It should get anything you want to watch.” He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “You can also use the gym. It’s across the hall from here.” It seemed to pain him to give me this freedom. “Do not come into this office unless you are invited.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’m in charge here. I will protect you, but I cannot do that if I can’t trust you to do exactly what I say.”
Damn, why did he look so hot saying that? I would gladly do what he said in bed. But otherwise? That remained to be seen. “I’m not a prisoner.”
“No, you’re not. You’re welcome to leave and go get shot.”
He spoke as if he didn’t care which I chose. Could I really trust him to protect me if he didn’t actually care if I left. “What would X say about that?”
“I don’t give afuck. I agreed to help you, but I didn’t agree to force you to stay.”
He really was something else. “So I have to let you order me around?”
He didn’t return my smile. “Yes.”
“Is it always so dark and quiet here? I mean, if you stay home a lot, haven’t you wanted to make it more cheerful?”
His glare made me shiver. “I don’t like bright light or noise.”
Of course, he didn’t. “Okay. Well, I’ll just use my headphones.”
He nodded. “Good choice. Please tell me you’ve listened, and you don’t have more questions.”
Wow, he really didn’t like me. I did have another question, but I didn’t know how to ask it without pissing him off. He’d assured me he could protect me, and X had agreed. So had the ridiculously named Six and Muffin, but I’d seen how much pain Dominic was in. He tried to hide it, but the sharp intakes of breath and the tension in his jaw were obvious. He was clearly stubborn as hell and forced himself to move through it, but could he protect me without hurting himself?
“I’m waiting for a response,” he said.
“I heard everything. I won’t give you any trouble.” As I said the words, I knew they weren’t true. My existence was troubling him. There was no way a cold grinch like him could exist in a house with me and not get annoyed, but it wasn’t like I’d asked to be here.
“I hope not.” He waved toward the door, and I left without saying anything else. There was so much anger seething under his cold facade. Did others not see through it? If not, why did I? And why did I want to push him until he exploded with anger, letting all the heat I imagined he had walled up inside come roaring out?
Because I was stupid, that’s why. Hadn’t I just told him I didn’t want to die?
You need to leave him alone.
But that would make things so boring.
Don’t cause trouble . I heard this advice in my mom’s voice. She’d been a big advocate of not making waves, and it had made having a talkative, out-and-proud son very difficult for her.
I returned to my room and finished unpacking. I’d just realized how hungry I was when someone knocked on my door. Was Mr. Marchesi back again? I hadn’t heard him—or anyone else—approach.
Was something up? Some kind of threat no one was anticipating? Maybe some reason they needed to move me somewhere else?
I opened the door, but it wasn’t Mr. Marchesi. It was a young woman wearing chef pants and an apron. “Good afternoon. I’m Beatrice, Mr. Marchesi’s housekeeper.”
I held out my hand. “I’m Corey.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Corey. Would you like something to eat? Mr. Marchesi usually has me bring a tray to his office. You are welcome to come to the dining room, or I can bring you something here.”
“I’d love to see the dining room, but I’m happy to eat in the kitchen. I’m used to a small apartment, so this is all a bit overwhelming.”
She smiled. “I can imagine. My own apartment is about the size of Mr. Marchesi’s sunroom.”
“You don’t live here?”
“No. I’m here all day Monday through Thursday and Friday morning to do cooking and general housework, but Mr. Marchesi likes his privacy.”
I thought about my spotless room, the towels laid out for me, toiletries in a basket on the bathroom counter. “I suppose you’re responsible for having my room ready for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. The room is lovely, and you don’t need to call me sir. Just Corey is fine.”
“All right, Corey. Do you need anything other than dinner?”
“Would you show me the living room and sunroom? Those are the only places other than the kitchen that I’m allowed to go, but I haven’t gotten a tour.”
She sighed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
She showed me both rooms and they were as large and stunningly decorated as I expected them to be. Mr. Marchesi liked nice things, antiques, soft fabrics, and books, so many books. The kitchen was far more modern or at least the appliances were. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in the dining room?”
“No, this is fine,” I said as I took a seat at the island. “I glanced at the clock on the stove and saw that it was after six.”
“Do you need to leave? I don’t want to keep you even though I’d really like someone to talk to.”
She laughed. “Mr. Marchesi didn’t want to chitchat?”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll head out once I’ve served you dinner. I don’t mind the extra time; Mr. Marchesi pays me very well.”
“That’s good to hear. What’s for dinner? It smells amazing.”
“Pasta à la vodka with chicken.”
“Oh, that sounds delightful.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy it. There’s also a salad, garlic bread, and a chocolate cake for dessert.”
“Will I be eating like this every night while I’m here?”
“I cook on the days that I’m here and make sure there’s plenty of leftovers or dishes that can be reheated when I’m not.”
At least I didn’t have to worry about going hungry during my stay.