Chapter Two
Noemi
I wish I could be somewhere else.
Sure, my surroundings are lovely. Sunshine filters through the floor-to-ceiling glass of my bedroom, painting long, geometric patches of gold across the white parquet.
It is a stunning space, in soft cream and lavender, filled with fresh-cut orchids that smell faintly of vanilla.
Everything in my room is smooth, soft, and meticulously dusted.
The space is no different than my life—controlled to the last detail so nothing ever touches me.
I would give anything to be touched by something—by someone.
I smooth down the skirt of my pale blue cashmere dress, my fingers tracing the hand-stitched hem.
A hug is a foreign concept in the Lane home.
Holding hands with a boy is not allowed.
Letting a man get close enough to kiss me let alone make love to me is as forbidden as my venturing to Sun Harbor alone.
I press my forehead against the cool glass.
Far down the avenue, beyond the high stone wall that shields our courtyard, a young woman in loud yellow athletic gear jogs down the lane.
No one trails behind her. There is no one watching her.
Her hair flies behind her in untamed strands, catching the morning breeze.
Even from a distance I can make out the slight bob of her head to whatever music hums from her earbuds.
My heart squeezes with a ridiculous, aching jealousy.
I want to go for a run alone. Take a walk around our property just because I want to.
I want a cool breeze to tangle my dark hair as I listen to my favorite Taylor Swift album.
I would love to stop for a moment to survey the block I’ve lived on my entire life, sheltered behind that damn stone wall.
“Miss Noemi?”
A soft knock sounds against the heavy oak door.
Clara enters carrying a silver tray laden with fresh mango slices, warm honey, perfectly done eggs and sizzling chorizo.
Turning, I beam a smile at her. She smiles back, her eyes softly crinkled at the corners.
Clara has cared for me since I was five; she is the one who bandaged my knees when I slipped on the grand staircase, and the one who sang to me whenever the house felt too quiet.
“Good morning, Clara,” I greet as I sit at the small table in the corner. I would give anything to go out to some bad diner for breakfast. To grab an awful cheeseburger and fries at a McDonald’s. I’ve had everything literally handed to me on a silver platter just this way my entire life.
I love Clara. I do love my father, and I love the people who keep our home running.
I am not ungrateful. I know the privilege I’ve known my entire life, that has kept me safe, shielded from what my father does.
I love my father for all has given me. That love does not stop this mansion from feeling like a cage.
“Your father left early for a council meeting,” Clara says, setting the tray on the table. “He said to suggest you do some shopping if you want to. Mr. Cass is waiting if you decide to venture out.”
Mr. Cass. Six-foot-four, tailored suit, a silver earpiece tucked discreetly behind his ear. Forever grumpy, closed off, and frankly a little bit of a thorn in my side. My shadow's shadow.
“Did my father say I could go into the lower market today?” I ask softly, trying to sound hopeful rather than desperate. “I just wanted to pick up some painting supplies. From the little shop on Elm Street.”
Clara offers a sympathetic, apologetic wince. “You know he thinks the market district is far too unpredictable, Noemi. The crowds, the traffic... He’s just protecting his girl. We both know how careful he is with the ladies in his life..” Now her wince twists up as she trails off.
Oh, yes, he was always very careful with the women in his life.
His mother, his two sisters, and my own mother.
Me. Only I am the last one standing. The last lady left in his life.
Nona went the natural way, there was no way some dark force was taking that woman out.
My mother though…that was at the hands of something much more nefarious.
Tears blur my vision before Clara bends behind me, wrapping me in an embrace.
I almost jerk from away from shock. Touch is limited here, after all.
My father has not embraced me since we lost mother.
No one else is allowed to come close enough.
Leaning back against her, I let her hold me as a few tears fall on my breakfast.
“I miss her too, carino,” Clara whispers, kissing my temple. “We do not understand what he does but it does not mean he doesn’t love you. Or that he did not love her. It cuts him deep, I see it. He would not survive it if he lost you too.”
I start to ask questions, to ask what it is she sees that I don’t, but she moves before I can open my mouth.
Just like that, the moment of tenderness is over.
Clara does not mean to deny me, I know that.
I know she loves me as if I were her child.
It is just that…we’re not allowed to show love, to show affection, to let our feelings be seen.
I do believe it would cut my father deep if something happened to me. I know he loves me. It’s not about his love for me. It’s about his pride, about the sense of power he wields that would be damaged if someone ever got to me. It would be seen as a weakness in his world.
Which explains that dark figure I saw last night. Not Mr. Cass or one of his men, who I would recognize. Not a threat either. No, that man sitting atop the wall staring up at my room was here for me. Only, he was not here to hurt me. Somehow I had no doubt about that.
Taking a bite of tear salted chorizo, I bite back a smile. I might have spent a little time taunting that dark figure last night. I sat at the window in my nightie, pretending not to see him there. Watching me. Assessing the threat to me. Or maybe the threat I could be to him.
Heat courses through me having nothing to do with the spicy sausage. I think back to how long he sat there watching me. He never moved. Never looked away. I sat in the window pretending not to notice him at first, my little nightie hiding very little of my body. I wanted him to see me.
I imagined him scaling the stone wall to get to me.
Climbing up the side of the house to reach my bedroom.
Coming through my window to find me waiting for him in that nightie.
My skin hot, my thighs trembling and damp from want.
I shudder now just thinking about what that dark figure’s touch would feel like on my skin.
“You’re going to be trouble,” a raspy voice fills my head, making that slow burn between my thighs become a fiery ache.
Because it is not in my head. No, that voice is right behind me.
I grip my fork tight, knuckles going white.
Father did more than cage me in here—he made sure I was taught how to protect myself.
I whirl to face whoever was stupid enough to risk coming to my room.
My fork clatters to the floor when I see who it is.
My dark figure from last night.
“Yeah, I am going to be trouble if you take one step closer,” My words are meant as a threat, yet they come out as a challenge. He knows it because I see the smile he bites back.
“Ms. Lane I can handle your type of trouble. I am not here to test your father’s idea of security. I came to show you that I can get to you—but I won’t let anyone else,” his voice is raw, low, sending sparks of heat between my legs.
Whoa. What is this? Who is this? Standing, I take a tentative step towards him. He moves back. Another step forward, he moves forward. Closer. I am hit with a wave of pleasure. That first step was cautious. The one to bring him closer was reckless. I welcome recklessness in my life.
“What do you mean? Who wants to get to me?”
“Someone who won’t ever come close now that I got to you first. Your father hired me last night.
I got inside here within an hour of taking the job.
Which means I won’t be leaving until I find that threat to eliminate it.
Because all those men guarding these grounds, here to protect the Lane fortune and everyone inside this house failed you when I got in here. ”
“You…you were in here last night? After I saw you…” My hand flies to my mouth too late. I gave away my little game last night.
This dark stranger smiles slowly. I almost fall back on the chair because damn, that smile is truly reckless.
He is beautiful. Dark hair and darker eyes, a scar through his left brow that makes him seem menacing.
Wide shoulders and powerful arms, thick thighs, black encasing every golden inch of him.
He is menacing. He is also beautiful and when his eyes meet mine again, I can see he is a little broken too.
I step forward again because that broken part calls to me. I am a little broken too. Being locked up my entire life after losing everything I love was enough to break me to bits. Only here I am, holding myself together somehow. Maybe I could help him stay in one piece too.
“I was here all night, Noemi. You were safe, I promise. You are safe,” he corrects himself, taking a step closer. I move too, drawn to him like a moth to a flickering flame. “I won’t let anyone get close to you. I promise.”
“Here you are…closer to me than anyone else ever gets.”
He smiles again. “I am no threat. I won’t hurt you, Noemi.”
“You might. Tell me who you are. Why my father hired you.”
“Neko. I do this for a living. This is all I do, protect people from threats, from what wants to harm them. He hired me because I should never have been able to get this close to you. Someone does want to harm you. But you know that, don’t you?”
Nodding, I take another step closer. I’m almost touching him now. I tremble with holding back. “Yes. I know someone is out there watching me all the time. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. It could be you.”
Neko’s eyes narrow before he moves fast and I gasp. I am hauled against his hard body, touched by a man for the first time in my life. I am immediately obsessed with the weight of him against me, the warmth. I press closer, tilting my head back to hold his gaze.
“I won’t ever hurt you, Noemi. I promise you that. Doesn’t mean I am not a threat because I should not have stayed here all night. Watching you. Listening to you sleep. I should not be touching you right now. Why the hell am I breaking the rules?”
“Whose rules? Yours? Or my father’s?”
“Mine. I have rules I never break on an assignment. I broke half of them the moment I got in this room last night.”
I want him to go explain, but I get distracted.
His hands have slid around my waist, pressing to my backside.
There is no space between us now, I feel all of him.
He is…he is hard between my thighs, pressing heavy against me.
Unable to help myself, I reach between us to touch him, to touch something I feared I may never get a chance to.
“Fuck, you can’t do that,” Neko hisses, backing up. I recoil before he moves again, hips rocking forward, pushing him back into my hand.
“I’ve never touched a man before, Neko. You must know that. If my father hired you, I assume you know a lot about me. More than I might ever get to know about you. Would you just let me…feel it?”
“Fuck. No, you can’t touch me this way. At all. I am not here for you to try things on, Noemi,” his voice turns harsh and I back up as if he struck me.
I am across the room, at the window where I watched him last night. I am used to being told no. To being refused things. Denied. It always hurts a little when my father won’t let me go to out on my own or to the lower market to shop for my paints or my oils. This hurts in a brand new way.
“I am going to talk to your father,” his voice is close again, but I don’t bother to find him in the room.
“I will tell him I am on your assignment until we find that threat. This sort of thing can never happen again. I understand he has kept you locked up, Noemi. It doesn’t mean you get to behave the way you just did.
I won’t let us get so close again, it is a rule. I just….”
“Just what?” I strain to hear his words, needing them so badly.
“I couldn’t help myself.”
His words are there but I know he is gone.
Good thing he is coming back—because I have every intention on trying things on him.