Chapter Twenty
Chloe
After what had happened in his office, I was avoiding Zane like the plague, and he’d never came looking for me either.
But no matter how much space I put between us, all I could think about were his lips kissing me in vulnerable places and how it had felt when he’d been down there, between my legs.
I shouldn’t have felt anything for this man. I shouldn’t have enjoyed his kisses or his touch and I hated that I had.
Clarisse was the only one I saw during this time. She came and went several times a day to check on me, to bring food, or to leave new clothes in my new closet that Zane had so conveniently sent.
He was trying to buy my trust with lavish gifts, turning poor Clarisse into his personal courier.
‘Look what he sent to you!’
‘You will look beautiful in those!’
‘Just try it on!’
She’d say, showing off a new piece as if it was meant to win me over before hanging it in the closet.
And this went on for days.
I couldn’t deny the clothes were stunning, and I didn’t have to touch them to know they’d been made with top-quality materials. But if he thought he could easily buy me, I was determined to prove he was deadly wrong.
I’d burn everything right now if I had the chance.
Clarisse wasn’t like the rest of them though. I could see that she was genuinely concerned about me, doing whatever she could to make my stay a little less miserable. I appreciated it even though I didn’t show, and honestly, this old lady was slowly earning my respect.
But I still needed to keep an eye on her.
I didn’t know exactly how she was connected to Zane or his business, but everyone around here treated her with a level of respect way beyond what you’d expect for a regular housekeeper.
Maybe I could learn a lot about everyone from her—if I got her to trust me.
And that was exactly why I didn’t say no when she offered to blow-dry and French braid my hair, swipe mascara over my lashes, and gloss my lips. Officially turning me into a doll for everyone to play with in this house of horrors.
She then led me to the closet, and for the first time, I actually stepped inside and took it all in.
Custom-built shelves and drawers lined the walls, with mirrors placed at perfect angles to make the space feel even bigger. My fingers started to brush the fabric of the clothes already hanging there, feeling the different textures, each piece unique.
I’d never had the money for this kind of luxury, and honestly, I’d never been the type to care about designer brands.
But I couldn’t deny how nice it felt to have so many beautiful options right at my fingertips.
It should have been such a simple thing for a woman to own things like this. But that had never been my world.
“I also set out some clothes for you,” Clarisse said, pointing to a neatly folded pile on the ottoman. My eyes followed.
I pressed my lips together, resisting temptation.
“Where are my other clothes?”
The last thing I wanted was to look like an appetizer around Zane and his men. I was perfectly fine in leggings and oversized shirts.
“You’ve been wearing the same old pants since the day you got here, Chloe,” she scoffed. “They need washing, and these are much nicer. Try them on. And maybe step out of this room for a bit. You’ll feel better.”
She gave me a gentle smile, and I nodded before she walked out, carrying my dirty clothes with her.
I eyed the pile as though it could bite me, but what was my alternative? Living in a bathrobe?
Fuck it.
Slipping into the dress, I caught my reflection in the mirror and paused, tilting my head slightly.
The hem skimmed just above my knees and the cut accentuated my silhouette.
The elegant pearl buttons down the front made it look like something from another era.
I ran my fingers over the fabric, relishing its texture.
I’d never owned a white dress and I looked timeless. Like I belonged in a story where the air smelled like fresh flowers and the sun had set just for me. I turned slightly, admiring the way the dress moved along with me.
I’d expected leather and glitter, pushed-up tops and shorts smaller than underwear. I had thought Zane would make me work for the money I owed him, by turning me into some human toy, something to be displayed, owned, used.
But that wasn’t what he wanted from me.
And if this was how Zane pictured me, then I’d never felt more beautiful.
Damn me for being such a cliché. The clothes and the nice gifts must be working after all, because looking at myself in the mirror like this, I wasn’t as angry anymore.
A grumble from my stomach reminded me that I’d refused to eat earlier today and now I was starving, and being stubborn to prove a point wouldn’t get me out of here any faster.
Clarisse was right.
It was time to change the scenario.
The clatter of plates and pans made me pause mid-step as I made my way downstairs. The noise was a stark contrast to the usual eerie silence always filling this house.
Following the sounds, I ended up at the kitchen’s wide-open doors, where I found Clarisse bustling around the industrial kitchen and its extensive marble counters.
She was in a hurry, as if in the middle of a cooking competition.
She moved from one counter to another, flipping pans, stirring sauces, while arranging an absurd amount of food onto a line-up of fancy silver platters.
I cleared my throat to announce my presence, and she spun around so fast I thought she might drop something. But instead of looking startled, her face lit up.
“Look at you! So beautiful! And finally decided to leave that room!” she said warmly. “You must be hungry. Sit, sit,” she urged, pulling out a stool at the counter before sliding a plate in front of me.
I hesitated. Something about Clarisse was both comforting and unnerving at the same time, with the way she was always so joyful about everything, feigning that everything happening here was perfectly normal.
Still, I let it slide. I had to focus on learning about my surroundings and pretend to fit in.
My gaze swept over the food spread across the counter—mini sandwiches, skewers, fancy-looking pastries. Were they hosting a party?
If so, where were the guests? The house was dead silent.
Clarisse gestured to the food. “Go on, take whatever you want, there’s plenty of food for everyone.”
Everyone?
I grabbed a piece of toasted bread with some kind of paté. The moment it hit my tongue, I let out an involuntary moan. It was ridiculously good—creamy, with a hint of seafood. I could eat just this for the rest of my life and would be so happy.
Clarisse giggled at my reaction, continuing prep the food.
“Clarisse, I was wondering—”
“He’s downstairs,” she cut in before I could finish.
“Downstairs?” I repeated, intrigued.
I hadn’t noticed any stairs to a basement when exploring the mansion.
“Yes, sometimes, they use the basement to gather around to relax and talk more... freely,” she explained, giving me an odd look, making me even more intrigued.
“I’m about to go down there and bring them some food. Do you want to help me?”
The last thing I wanted was to face Zane, especially with his men around.
But a chance to know more about him and the people he surrounded himself with could be helpful to understand him a little better.
Besides, knowing that Clarisse would be there with me made me feel more safe.
They wouldn’t do anything nasty to me in front of an old lady… or so I hoped.
“Sure,” I said awkwardly, grabbing the silver tray stacked with cheese and toasted bread before following her down a narrow hallway right outside the kitchen.
The entrance to the basement was almost hidden, and I never would’ve noticed it if I hadn’t been searching specifically for it. As we stepped down the stairs, it was nothing like I’d imagined.
Instead of chains and cells, there were collectible cars parked behind walls of glass, each one polished to perfection. A snooker table stood in the center of the room, and several plush leather couches were arranged in different seating areas.
A stone bar had been sculpted into one of the walls, lined with what looked to be expensive bottles. And at the far end was a gym with weight machines and a suspended punching bag.
It was a man cave designed in Zane’s image.
And sitting on one of the couches, looking completely at ease, sat the devil himself.
He was swirling a glass of whiskey; his eyes locked on the amber liquid as if he was either deep in thought or simply bored. The sight of him made my heart slam against my ribs, my lungs suddenly needing more air.
He was wearing dark suit pants and a fitted black dress shirt that fit him like a second skin, especially tight around his arms. The top was unbuttoned, allowing me to catch a better glimpse of that sinfully sexy tattooed neck and strong chest.
I swallowed hard, quickly scurrying behind Clarisse to the counter bar, trying to focus on anything except him. But that was exactly when his eyes lifted up directly to me, as if they knew where to find me without needing to search around.
He watched my every move with that same grim expression of his, a mix of intensity and indifference hard to decipher. Something else flickered in them when his gaze trailed down the length of my body. That was when I remembered I was wearing one of the dresses he’d bought for me.
His teeth ground together, and before I could process what it meant, I noticed the others.
There were at least ten men around. Women too, and they looked as dangerous and as intriguing as the men. I immediately wondered if they were family, some sort of workers, or just their playthings.
Staring at them, a memory flashed in my mind.
Bruce’s club. The way Zane had a woman on his lap, touching her, enjoying her and an unfamiliar irritation crawled through me at the thought.
It was ridiculous, I had no right to feel anything about what he did or with whom he did it. But that didn’t stop the bitter taste from creeping into my mouth.
Clarisse placed the silver plates on the bar, and I followed her lead.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered, patting my arm before casually walking away, leaving me standing there like a deer caught in headlights.
Every set of eyes was suddenly heavy on me, sizing me up, making me feel that if I moved, my world might collapse.
I felt betrayed.
I’d thought I was the one pulling the strings, but she was the one who led me straight into the lion’s den. That sweet old backstabber planned to lead me here the whole time.
“You can breathe now.”
Zane’s voice came from behind, startling me yet steadying me at the same time. I no longer felt eyes on me, no longer feeling myself drifting away. Only his presence behind me.
“What’s going on here?” I asked quietly, not turning to face him.
His breath ghosted over my bare shoulder.
I swallowed hard, not sure if I was ready to turn and see those lips of his so close to me yet.