16. I Came to Warn You
CHAPTER 16
I CAME TO WARN YOU
Archer
I pace the length of the study like a caged animal. For the past hour, I’ve tried to get work done, but I can’t concentrate. Not when Paloma is out there in the gardens, looking particularly beautiful in a faux-fur coat. Her hair is up in a ballerina bun with a few strands framing her face.
To my surprise, I don’t regret last night. For as long as I live, I will cherish the memory of her coming apart in my arms. I loved getting her off with Hunter’s figurine. I smile to myself. Of course, now it’s not his. It’s mine. Because from now on, she’ll think of that night, and me, whenever she sees the crystal swan.
The slight problem with last night is that now, I can’t stop thinking about her, tied to my bed. Now that I know what her perfect tits look like, I can’t put her out of my mind. I crave her every minute of every day.
I amble to my desk and sit in front of my laptop. The emails are piling up because I haven’t been to the office in weeks. Swiveling the executive chair around, I look out the tall windows again. She’s still out there, except now she’s following the path that leads to the edge of the property in the distance.
“Fuck.” I shoot to my feet and head out.
It’s not that I fear she may leave. I know she won’t. She loves her father too much to bring him shame by backing out on his word, the deal he negotiated on her behalf. But I do worry that she doesn’t see how dangerous the woods can be during the winter months. The snow might be deeper than it looks. And there’s also the half-frozen pond. It’s beautiful in the spring, but treacherous at the moment.
I take the door that leads to the terrace, then climb down the stone steps. She’s wandering the grounds, so even though she’s still on the path, she hasn’t gone too far. I pick up the pace to catch up to her. I stalk her for a while, admiring her grace. Since she rarely leaves her room, I don’t get many opportunities to just watch her. That’s not counting the few stolen moments I allow myself every night. Watching her sleep has quickly become my nightly routine. A handful of times, I’ve soothed her out of a nightmare. She’s a heavy sleeper, but I know my voice calms the bad dreams that invade her peace.
My body aches to be closer. I want her to smile at me the way she smiled freely at the construction worker the other day. To talk to me the way she talks to Mary Jane. She could’ve asked me if I had the crystal, but she didn’t. Instead, she went snooping upstairs.
She laughs and picks up the pace. Great, she found the gate at the end of the property. She runs her hand over the lock, and it gives under her touch immediately. The grounds crew must’ve left it unlocked after they finished their work. She tugs at the iron-wrought handle using all her weight.
“There’s nothing but woods and wild animals beyond those gates.” I project my voice.
“Oh my god.” She startles at the sight of me and trips over a stump.
“Be careful.” I rush to her and catch her.
“You scared me.” She blushes, looking up at me.
I smirk, pleased with the idea that maybe she hasn’t forgotten about last night. “Are you going somewhere, Little Dove?” I cross my arms over my chest. “We got six inches of snow just this morning.”
“Really?” She raises an eyebrow, shooting a quick glance at the house in the distance. “You came all the way out here to talk about the weather?” She laughs.
It’s a genuine sound that fills my chest with glee.
“I came to warn you,” I say softly. “The woods are not maintained like the grounds inside the walls are. Wild animals roam freely out there, looking for food.”
“Are you worried for my safety?” she asks, her gaze is full of defiance. “Or maybe you thought I was planning my escape.”
“Both.” I study her features. “I already told you. You’re not going anywhere. Your place is here with me.”
“Why?” She throws up her arms in frustration. “You don’t even talk to me.”
“We spoke last night. Didn’t we?” I step closer.
“That’s.” Heat rushes to her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t know anything about you. And yet, you insist on keeping me here.” She gestures toward the open gate. “Like I’m your prisoner. Or your worst enemy. Why?”
“I can’t let you leave. I simply don’t have the ability to,” I answer honestly. “I feel very protective of you. Don’t you understand? It isn’t safe out there. And I don’t mean just the woods.”
“You can let me go back to my father.” She hugs herself. “I’ll be safe with him.”
“Your father?” I bark out a laugh. “How can you not see him for what he is? He’s out there gambling again.”
“No, he’s not.” Her lip trembles.
“Is that why you want to go back to him? So he can sell you again when he loses another four million? Or maybe this time he’ll just bring his friends in and let them all have a go at you for a small price?” I practically spat the words.
She slaps me across the face. “You don’t have to be so cruel. Dad tried really hard to find a different way to pay off his debt. I messed up his plans when I lost the necklace.” She purses her lips. “It was my fault. You had your fun. Would you please just let me go?”
“No.” I prowl toward her and cradle her face. “You’re mine. You’re only mine, Little Dove. And I protect what’s mine.”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’ll get tired of me eventually.” She turns on her heel and crosses the threshold, doing exactly the opposite of what I asked her not to do.
Does she truly believe that her acting like a spoiled brat is going to stomp the desire burning in my veins. If anything, the more she defies me, the more I want her.
I look over my shoulder toward the mansion, thinking of the pile of work I have waiting for me. But for the life of me I can’t make myself leave. I can’t stop thinking about kissing her cold nose and reaching inside her coat to feel her tight body again, maybe finger her pussy this time, and show her how good it could be between us. If only she trusted me. If only she saw her father for who he really is.
“Don’t follow me,” she says over her shoulder. “I don’t need you looking at me like a creep.”
Oh, Little Dove. If I could leave you alone, I would. “I’m staying.” I smirk. “I think you like it when I look at you.”
I walk next to her, keeping to her slow pace and short gait. The fresh air feels good in my lungs, as if I’m coming up for air for the first time in a long while. After another ten minutes, the tension weighing on her shoulders begins to dissolve. She relaxes and resumes her exploration of the gardens.
“The original architect favored the English style,” I say when she stops to admire a row of frozen bushes, then looks back at the gardens. Her eyes open wide in surprise as if she can’t believe we’re talking like civilized people. When she recovers, I add, “When Mom came to live here, she gave the gardens more of a French feel, filled it with wildflowers that are native to New York.”
“I bet it’s gorgeous in the spring.” She faces the sun, closing her eyes.
I take the time to study her features and the pink of her cheeks. What if Fisher is right? That maybe the girl can break my curse , as he calls it. Can she handle the weight of my secrets? Even if she can’t handle the truth about her father?
What if she’s meant to be here with me and break the chains holding me hostage to this quest for revenge? Would she even care that her father killed mine, that I spent most of my formative years on the run, waiting for her father to come after me and finish what he started?
“If you’d like you can ask me anything you want.” I rub the creases on my forehead, knowing that letting my guard down is a colossal mistake. But to her point, it isn’t fair that I keep a dossier on her while she doesn’t even know the most basic information about me. “Go on.”
“Really?” She smiles, stepping closer to me, her eyes full of curiosity. “You’ll answer?”
“Is that your question?” I stuff my hands inside the pockets of my heavy coat.
“Fine. Did you grow up in this house,” she asks.
“I did,” I answer without hesitation.
Again, she looks at me in surprise. “When did you move to the UK?”
“When I was eleven?” A smile pulls at my lips. I like that she’s curious about me.
“Hmm.” She stops to look at me. “Isn’t that already too old for someone to pick up an English accent?”
“First of all, I don’t have an English accent.” I reach for her cheek. “I think I have my mom’s English American accent. She’s from the UK but moved to the States when she was young.”
“And your dad?” She cocks her head.
“He’s from here, Bedford.” I take in a deep breath. “He grew up in this house.”
“That’s interesting.” She furrows her brows. “I wonder if our parents knew each other. I mean Bedford is not that big.”
“It’s big enough. So I doubt it.” I pull on the strands of hair framing her face. “Dad traveled a lot when he was a kid. My grandfather was an ambassador.”
“That’s funny.” She bites her lip, looking into my eyes. “My grandfather was an ambassador too.”
“That’s a big coincidence.” I clench my jaw. “On your father’s side?”
“Yes.” She nods.
I know for a fact that the Senator came from nothing. He was an orphan when Dad met him at Harvard Law. At the time, Senator Davis didn’t even have enough money to buy himself a warm coat. Dad gave him one, along with shoes, and later on, a place to live. They were roommates until they each finished their law degrees.
When Mom came into the picture, she immediately took a dislike to Dad’s friend. She could feel something wasn’t right with Maurice Davis. But Dad ignored her warnings to watch his back.
“Seems our paths were meant to cross.” She reaches for my chest.
“Don’t.” I catch her wrist and hold it inches from me.
“Why not?” The light in her eyes slowly fades. “Does it have to do with the scars on your back?”
My heart races. Can I trust her?
“No.” I opt for the truth.
“How did it happen?” She stares at her wrist for a moment, then looks up at me. “They’re burn scars, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” I slowly place her palm on my chest that now feels like it’s about to crack open. I’m putting my whole life in her hands. “It happened when I was little, in a fire.” I point toward the house.
“Archer.” Her voice trembles. “That’s awful. For a little kid. I can’t even imagine.” Her voice shakes. She thinks on it for a bit, then asks, “Is that the same fire that destroyed the east wing?”
“The same one.” I let the serenity in her eyes wash over me.
“How long ago was that?” She asks.
“Twenty years ago.” I need her to know the truth, but how much can she handle, how long before she runs away?
“So that would make you what? Like twenty-eight?” She ventures a guess.
“I’m thirty-one.” I smile. “Same as your brother.”
“So you left for the UK shortly after the fire.” She looks at me with so much pity in her eyes. Or at least pity for the boy who had to leave everything behind to survive. “I’m so sorry, Archer.”
She apologizes for her father’s greed and lack of morals. And for some reason something unlocks inside my chest. Her genuine regret eases a tiny bit of my pain. And I hate myself even more for using her to get to the Senator. She’s a pawn in a game she doesn’t even know about.
“You don’t have to be sorry for me. None of what happened to me is your fault.” I lean in, longing for a taste of her lips again, but I can’t keep doing this to her. Every time I waver in my resolve, her feelings get hurt.
“You’re my husband. I should be allowed to feel for you.”
“There you go again, thinking this thing between us can be real. Little Dove, don’t you see? I’m not good for you.” I need her to hate me.
“I don’t care.” She cups my face. “I want you. Do you…” She steps closer, flushing her body to mine. “Do you want me?”
“Jesus, Paloma.” I open her coat and bring her closer to me, so she can feel how hard I am for her right now. “What do you think?”
“Then, why do you push me away? I’m your wife.” She swallows and slowly brings both hands to rest on my chest. “You touch me every time you want. Why can’t I do the same?”
“Because I can’t trust myself around you. I’m barely holding it together. I’m trying to do the right thing. Don’t you understand that?” I take in her scent. “But you smell so good. And you taste so sweet. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.”
“Then don’t.” She drops her hand to my steel hard cock. “Let me in.”
My fantasies of her push the boundaries of my resolve. My chest expands in anticipation as she unbuttons my pants and reaches inside my boxer briefs.
“Hmm.” I grip the back of her neck and draw circles on her scalp with my thumb. “I want nothing more than for that pretty mouth of yours to suck me dry.”
“Let me.” She looks at me with big eyes, the same way she did the first night we met.
“You’ve done this before, Little Dove?” Jealousy burns at the pit of my stomach. “Is that what Hunter required in exchange for leaving your pussy untouched?”
“No.” She removes her hand. “He just didn’t want me.”
“I find that hard to believe.” I scoff. “The lust and greed in his eyes are hard to miss. I’m surprised he didn’t bid on you.”
“He didn’t have the money.” She swallows. “Otherwise, the auction wouldn’t have happened. He tried to help.”
It pisses me off that I came so close to losing her. If Hunter was a little smarter with his investments, he would’ve paid her. And I would’ve killed him for it. I run a hand through my hair. Jesus, she’s driving me insane.
She shivers and closes the coat around her. “I think I’d like to be alone now.”
The hurt in her eyes cuts me. If I could love at all, it would be her. She wants me now. But not for long. Soon, I’ll have to tell her the truth. My biggest problem now is that as the days go by, I find it harder and harder to stay away from her. I need her like I need air.
I follow in silence behind her. She goes in through the kitchen access to grab a water. While she’s browsing the fridge, I wrack my brain for the right words to say. But I come back empty because she’s not ready to learn the whole truth. I doubt she’ll ever be. So where does that leave us? Hell, I suppose.
“Paloma,” I call out as she leaves the kitchen.
When she ignores me, I grip the edge of the counter. For a moment, I decide to let her be. But then my instinct wins over and I chase after her. She must’ve bolted after she left the kitchen because by the time I find her, she’s already halfway up the stairs. I climb up in two long strides and grab her by the elbow.
I’m dying to fuck her.
“I didn’t want to make you have dinner with me before.” My gaze drops to her pouty mouth. Her hot breath lingers between us as she’s trying to make out what I’m saying. But she’s too flustered by how our bodies are touching in three different places—her arm, her chest and the outside of her thigh. When she doesn’t make to free herself of me, I continue, “For one because I didn’t want to make you, or Gardenia feel uncomfortable.” I stop to inhale.
Gardenia’s name is definitely the wrong thing to say her. Red blotches skip down her neck as she glares at me with disdain. The hate I see in her eyes is exactly the thing I’m trying to avoid. And yet here we are—destined to be enemies.
“You will join me for dinner tonight.” My thumb slides across the inside of her elbow. “That’s an order.”
“I thought my answer on that was clear.” She yanks her arm away. “How about you slide a little card under my door, so I can give you my answer?” Her tone is laced with sarcasm. “I would rather starve than eat with you . I have nothing against Gardenia. You made her believe you loved her.”
“I do love her.” I release a breath. Her jaw clenches, so I clarify. “Like a little sister. Her father is like a father to me. The thought never even crossed my mind.”
“I don’t care.” She makes to leave, but I grab her again.
“You keep acting like a spoiled brat, I will start treating you like one.” Our noses are inches apart.
In my head, I grab her and take her upstairs to my bed. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. Maybe the answer is to fuck her until I have my fill of her. Maybe then, the void in my chest will be gone and I’ll be able to move on with my fucking life.
“You can’t make me.” She scoffs.
“If a spanking is what you need, I’m more than happy to oblige.” I raise an eyebrow. My hand itches to do just that.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She narrows her eyes at me.
I grip the back of her neck and make her look at me. “If you’re not in the dining room tonight by seven thirty, you will find out how much I would dare.”
“You can’t treat me like that. I’m not your pet.” Her gaze drops to my eyes then my chest and back again.
“I think we’re about to find out.” I release her. “That’s exactly what you need, isn’t it, Little Dove?”
The space between her eyebrows deepens as if she’s actually considering my question. She arrives at a conclusion that I can’t read in her eyes. Whatever it is, it makes her glare at me in horror.
“You’re a beast. A brute,” she blurts out.
“I’m glad you’re catching on.”
She opens and closes her mouth, but she seems to be out of insults for me. After a beat, she bolts toward her bedroom.
A smirk pulls at my lips.
I can’t deny that I wouldn’t mind an excuse to touch her perfectly sculpted ass.
* * *
“That’ll be all, Mary Jane.” I adjust my weight on the chair as I glare at the clock sitting on the credenza along the dining room wall. “I can handle the rest of the dinner service.” I take in the feast she’s prepared for us with all of Paloma’s favorite foods.
“Of course, Mr. Archer.” She offers me a pleasant smile. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Archer’s tray now.”
“No, leave it. She will be joining me tonight.” One way or another, she will dine with me. I slant another glance at the clock. Paloma has ten minutes to show up to dinner.
“Wonderful. I’ll come back later to clean up. But if you need anything before then, I’ll be in the kitchen.” She disappears behind the service door.
I sit back and tap my fingers on the edge of the table. The minutes tick by, and I don’t move a muscle as the realization that she’s not coming washes over me. She would rather starve, then eat with me. Is that it?
Oh, Little Dove, you’re about to learn that I don’t bluff. You still have time.
Pursing my lips, I glare at the minute hand as it strikes at the half-hour mark.
I jerk to my feet and head upstairs.