Chapter 18
By the time Brian stopped the car outside an enormous mansionabout an hour outside of the city, I was exhausted; mentally and physically.
I tried to keep my eyes open, tried to ignore how comfortable I was inNash’s arms, and tried my damned hardest to remind myself that he was the man who drugged me and violated me while I was unconscious, but exhaustion won.
As the bright lights of the Vegas Strip faded away, I snuggled intoNash’s warm embrace, and closed my eyes, allowing myself to have one night of peace.
I briefly stirred as Nash lifted me out of the car and into his arms,whispering softly to me to go back to sleep as he carried me to the bedroom, and for the rest of the night, I slept soundly, without any drugs running through my system.
Warm sunlight streaming through giant windows lined with whitevoile curtains woke me, and I slowly sat up in bed, taking in the sight of my new bedroom.
It was beautiful.
I wasn’t at all surprised to find the room was enormous, and no doubtthe rest of the house was. But I was surprised to find it decorated the way it was. I would have bet my last dollar that Nash liked his decor dark and moody like the interior of Onyx was, but this room was the complete opposite.
The space was bright and airy, decorated with hues of ivory,terracotta, and gold, giving it a Mediterranean feel. A wrought iron chandelier hung from the high ceiling, with little glass droplets hanging from each arm, and reflecting the sun’s rays onto the wall.
The bed was a four-poster king, made of deep brown oak withintricate designs carved into the wood, and elegant voile drapes, the same as what hung from the windows, tied at each poster.
The sheets were made of the softest white cotton material I’d evertouched, and I couldn’t stop myself from running a hand over it, the material feeling like silk under my palm.
An enormous oak wardrobe took up the length of one wall, and amatching dressing table with an ornate mirror standing in the middle was placed against another wall.
As my eyes roamed the room, taking everything in, my hand hitagainst something hard as I ran it over the bed. Looking down, it was to find a phone with a note resting against it. The note simply said, ‘For you.’
Picking the phone up, I turned it over in my hand, a small smiletugging at my lips. It was the latest iPhone, and no doubt cost a fortune. It was an upgrade from the crappy phone I’d been using for the last few months, that was for sure.
Tapping on the screen, a notification box came up to indicate a text.Seeing as there was no PIN required, I opened up the message.
Good morning, sweetheart, You looked so beautiful sleeping in our bed, I didn’t want to disturb you. I needed to go to work for a few hours, so make yourself at home. In the wardrobe, you’ll find new clothes for you, and if you need anything else, my housemaid, Jessica, will be able to help. Have a good day, Nash.
I read over the message a few times, trying to ignore the flutter ofbutterflies in my belly every time I reread the first line. I shouldn’t want Nash telling me I was beautiful. I shouldn’t get a warm, fuzzy feeling rushing through me at him referring to the bed as ours.
But I did.
As if I needed to be reminded that the man I could easily startfawning over had taken away my freedom, a ray of sunlight caught on the diamonds in my wedding band.
Urgh, why did this have to be so complicated?
No.
It wasn’t complicated. I wasn’t going to let myself grow attracted toNash. I had a game plan, and I was sticking to it.
With a newfound determination, I fired off a bland ‘thank you’ toNash before climbing out of bed. There were two doors in the room, and taking a chance that one might lead to a bathroom, I opened it, relieved to find it was indeed the bathroom.
Taking care of business, followed by the most incredible shower I’dever enjoyed, I spent the best part of an hour raiding the wardrobe.
Nash wasn’t lying when he said there were new clothes for me, andas I went through all the different designer dresses, tops, skirts, jeans, shoes, bags, jumpers, and coats, I tried to estimate how much Nash had spent.
I gave up after I reached two million, and I hadn’t gotten through halfof it.
Growing up, I’d spent years following designers, dreaming of the daythat one day I’d get to wear their clothes, or I’d feature my own clothes in fashion shows with my favorite designers, so it was fair to say that thanks to Nash, I was in my element.
Damn him.
The best thing about rummaging through the wardrobe though wasthat for the first time in months, new ideas about clothes I wanted to design sprang to mind. The more I rummaged, the more my hand twitched with the need to grab my pencils and sketchbook so I could start jotting down some designs.
Now that inspiration had struck, I jumped to my feet, only stoppingwhen I remembered I had no clue where Nash had put my belongings. He’d said that my personal effects would be waiting when we got home, so where were they?
Grabbing my phone and pulling up the message thread, Itapped out a text to Nash.
Hey, where are my sketchbooks?
His response was instant.
Safe for now.
Please can I have them?
No.
What the hell was his problem?
A surge of anger coursed through me. He was being a controllingasshole again, something that was wearing thin very quickly.
Why can’t I have them?
Because I said so.
Motherfucker!
Resisting the urge to throw the phone against the wall, Ishoved all the clothes back into the wardrobe, muttering curses aimed solely at my asshole husband before putting on a pair of leggings and a sweater, determined to go on the hunt for my stuff.
If Nash wouldn’t tell me where my things were, I’d find them myself.
Much like the bedroom, the rest of the house had a similar decor,with ivory and terracotta colors making the place feel bright and warm.
Going from room to room, I tried my best to not fall in love with theplace, but it was impossible. Whoever had designed the interior had done a damn good job, and there wasn’t one part of it I would change.
With the exception of knowing where my sketchbooks were of course.
Admittedly, I didn’t do the best job in searching for them. As I enteredeach room intent on tearing it apart to find what I was looking for, I couldn’t bring myself to snoop. It felt wrong, especially with how tidy each room was.
When I reached one door, finding it locked, something in my gut told me that was where I would find my sketchbooks.
Pulling my phone out, and once again bringing up the messagethread, I was about to type out a text calling Nash the biggest prick on the planet, when my eyes read over the first message he’d sent. If you need anything else, my housemaid, Jessica, will be able to help.
A smile graced my face. Surely Jessica would have a key to thelocked room?
Abandoning my quest for my sketchbooks, I went on the hunt for thewoman I hoped would find it in her to side with me, and not her boss.
Making my way downstairs, a soft voice echoed from somewhere andI followed it through the hallways, my anger at Nash fading, replaced with a tinge of worry at the panic in her voice.
As I reached the huge open-plan living area, I paused in the doorway,finding a woman, assumedly Jessica, with her back to me. She held a phone to her ear, and her whole body was rigid with tension. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but with how distressed she sounded, I couldn’t help but listen.
“I’m trying to get hold of my nanny, but she’s not answering,” shepaused, waiting for a response. “I know the school policy, and believe me, if Dillon has got chicken pox then I don’t want him mixing with other kids either.” Another pause, this time followed by a heavy sigh of resignation. “No, there isn’t anyone else, it’s just me.”
The anguish in her voice was unmissable, and even though I didn’tknow this woman from Adam, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. It sounded like she was at her wit’s end, something I knew a lot about.
“I’ll figure something out and be as quick as I can.” She hung up thephone, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, instantly regretting speaking after shespun around to face me, startled.
“Oh, Mrs. Carson. I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb you,” she repliedpolitely, almost standing to attention, her frustration from seconds ago nowhere to be seen.
“No, you didn’t at all,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Andplease, call me Savannah.”
I didn’t want people referring to me as Mrs. Carson, I didn’t wantanother reminder that I was married to that asshole. The ring was enough.
She gave a small smile back. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you. I’mJessica, and if there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
The worry in her eyes betrayed her professional tone, and I couldn’thelp but frown. “I don’t mean to pry, but I overheard your call. Do you need to go?”
It was as if I’d given her permission to drop the professional act.Tears suddenly welled in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered. “My little boy isn’t well. His kindergarten teacher thinks he has chicken pox, and I can’t get hold of my nanny.”
“Then go,” I said, crossing the room, and wanting to comforther. The poor woman was clearly torn between her loyalty to her son and her loyalty to her job.
“I can’t. Mr. Carson wanted me to have a nice dinner prepared for youboth for tonight. I haven’t started it, and -”
“And you don’t need to start it,” I interrupted, resting my hand on herarm. “Your son is far more important, and I am more than capable of cooking dinner.”
It wasn’t a lie either. I’d spent years cooking three meals a day when Iwas taking care of my mom, and then cooking for Liam for the short time we lived together. Cooking wasn’t exactly something I enjoyed, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t do it.
For a few seconds, Jessica looked torn, but her motherly instinctmust have kicked in as a look of relief washed over her face.
“If you’re sure?” she said, smiling gratefully when I gave a nod of myhead. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’m sure it’ll be just for today, hopefully my nanny can look after Dillon for the rest of the week.”
I followed her out into the kitchen where she collected her bag when an idea popped into my head. Doing my best to hold back a malicious grin, I walked Jessica to the front door.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the week off? Kids always want theirmoms when they’re not well. Besides, this is mine and Nash’s first week at home together, it’ll be nice if I can do some things to take care of him.”
And I would definitely be taking care of him.
Jessica paused in the doorway, and a second later, she threw herarms around me, taking me by surprise.
“Thank you so much, you have no idea what this means,” she said,gratitude in her voice. As she pulled away, a tear leaked from her eye, and even though I’d given her the week off for my own nefarious reasons, I was glad she’d be able to look after her son.
“It’s really no problem.”
She gave me a smile, her eyes once again filling with tears. “Mr.Carson is a lucky man to have found someone as nice as you. Congratulations on your marriage.” She headed down the marble stairs, pausing when she reached the bottom one. “Oh, you probably already know this, but make sure you don’t cook anything with onions in, they make Mr. Carson unwell.”
I watched her walk to her car, a smile forming on my face. Only therewas nothing nice about it.
It was time for Nash to find out just how un-nice I could actually be.
“Something smells good,” Nash called when he strolled into thekitchen later that day. I was glad he’d been stuck at work for hours, not only had his absence given me time to clear my head, but it had also given me time to create a culinary masterpiece.
After Jessica left, I messaged Nash to explain the situation, tellinghim that it would be my pleasure to cook dinner, but I didn’t have the ingredients for what I wanted to make.
Less than ten minutes later, a car arrived out front, followed by amessage from Nash telling me the driver, Aaron, would take me wherever I needed to go, and that a credit card in my name was in the kitchen drawer, and I could buy whatever I needed.
Obviously, I asked Aaron to take me to the most expensive grocerystore he could think of, after all, I only wanted the best for my husband.
I spent the rest of the day making a curry from scratch, doing mybest to hide all evidence of the three onions I’d chopped up into tiny cubes, and hoping all the spices I’d added would cover up any hint that Nash’s nemesis was hidden in his dinner.
The naan breads I’d also made from scratch were finishing in theoven, and despite the reasons for making such a delicious dinner, I was proud of what I’d accomplished.
“Hey, you’re home,” I said, turning around from checking the bread,and giving Nash a bright smile.
His eyes narrowed on me, a look of suspicion crossing his face. “Notthat I’m complaining, but I was expecting a fight when I got home for not giving you your sketchbooks, not this.”
He waved his hand in my direction, indicating my look. I was thevision of a perfect housewife, my hair was tied back neatly, I’d put a small amount of makeup on, and I was wearing an apron over my clothes.
I shrugged, tamping down the flash of anger at the mention of mysketchbooks. “Figured life would be a whole lot simpler for both of us if we weren’t at each other’s throats. Besides, after Jessica left, I had dinner to keep me occupied.”
I smiled sweetly at him, hoping he’d fall for my act. When his bodyrelaxed, he crossed the kitchen to where I was, his hands coming up to cup my face as he brought his lips to mine.
Knowing that I needed to not give him any reason to doubt my newfound attitude, I opened my mouth when his tongue sought entry, and placing my hands on his solid chest, I leaned into him.
The problem with going along with this act though was that my core jolted to life, and a warm feeling coursed through my entire body.
As much as my brain wanted to hate Nash, my body was on a wholedifferent page, the page where it wanted Nash to rip every shred of clothing from my body, and fuck me over the kitchen counter right this second.
When Nash pulled away, it took a second for me to catch my breath,and with the way he was looking at me with hunger in his eyes, I suspected he wanted to fuck me over the kitchen counter just as much.
“Erm, dinner will be ready in about five minutes,” I said, steppingaway, and doing my best to avert my eyes from the bulge he was now sporting in his pants.
“I’ll go and change then,” he replied, a hint of suspicion still in histone.
When he disappeared, I gave the curry a final stir, and for a splitsecond, guilt washed through me. A little voice in the back of my head told me not to go through with my plan, that maybe life with Nash wouldn’t be all bad.
But if I didn’t go through with it, then I’d never get to walk away fromNash. So what if the house was the nicest house I’d ever stepped foot in? And so what if I now had a wardrobe full of designer clothes, and access to a credit card that I could use for whatever I wanted?
What I wanted was my freedom, and not to be treated like a pet hecould train, and no amount of Nash’s money was going to make me change my mind.
A short while later, we were seated at the grand dining table, a feastof rice, naan, curry, and poppadoms laid out before us.
“This looks amazing, Savannah. You didn’t have to do this, we couldhave gone out for dinner,” Nash said, as he reached out for the rice and started spooning it onto his plate.
“It was no trouble,” I replied, taking the rice from him, and doingmy best to stifle my laugh as he ladled the curry onto the rice.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke, and a nervous anticipationrushed through my body as Nash reached out to grab a naan before tearing a bit off, and dipping it in the curry sauce.
I’d be lying if I said there still wasn’t a little part of me that wanted tosnatch his plate away and confess my sins. But with the memory of his message flashing in my head, telling me that I couldn’t have my sketchbooks, I pushed that part away, determined to see my plan through.
Besides, this was the man who made me get to my knees and suckhis cock to prove myself to him. This was the least he deserved.
As Nash took the first spoonful of rice and curry, I smothered mysmile by popping a bit of my own naan in my mouth. I didn’t know if it was because I’d used the finest quality ingredients, or I’d somehow refined my cooking skills, but either way, the bread was delicious.
“So, what do you think of the house?” Nash asked after a few morespoonfuls of curry. If I wanted to back out of my plan, it was too late now.
“It’s nice,” I replied, playing down how I really felt about it. If I didn’tacknowledge aloud how much I’d fallen in love with the house, I wouldn’t miss it so much when the time came to leave.
A frown creased Nash’s brow. “If you don’t like it, we can alwayschange the decor,” he said, uncertainty in his tone.
“What’s in the locked room upstairs?” I blurted, unable to stop thecuriosity getting the better of me. I’d been thinking about that room all day, more than certain that my sketchbooks were hidden away in there.
A knowing smirk pulled at Nash’s lips, making me want to pick up thebowl of curry and pour it over his head. “Figured you’d try to get in there.”
“Is that where my books are?” I snapped, my temper rising.
Scooping another portion of rice and curry onto his spoon, Nash ateit slowly before he bothered to give me an answer. “Your books are safe. But that room is off limits for now.”
I couldn’t help but raise a brow in question, my curiosity growingdeeper about why I couldn’t see what was in that room.
There was no point arguing with him. I knew enough about Nash toknow that he thought he was in control of me, and if I pushed, I’d only end up being tortured. No doubt with the deprivation of orgasms, and I’d only just gotten over the last time the asshole did that.
Even if the orgasm was worth it by the time he let me come.
We ate the rest of the dinner in silence. By now, I’d lost myappetite, my anger toward Nash getting the better of me. At least the guilt for lacing his dinner with onions had gone, and I was counting down the seconds until his digestive system realized it had been poisoned.
“That was delicious, Savannah,” Nash said eventually, putting hiscutlery down when his plate was empty.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I replied, letting my own smug smile gracemy lips.
He stood, collecting the plates and bowls from the table, only tofreeze when his stomach let out the deepest growl I’d ever heard, and the contentment he’d been wearing on his face fell.
“Did you put onions in the curry?” he said, worry pulling at his brow.
“Oops, was I not supposed to?” I replied, doing my best to feigninnocence.
Nash dropped the plates back on the table as his stomachgrumbled furiously. “Fuck, Savannah! Onions make me ill!”
“Oh, now you mention it, Jessica did say something about that. Musthave slipped my mind.” I met his eyes, his filled with panic, mine filled with mirth. “You know, I was probably distracted wondering where my sketchbooks were.”
His eyes narrowed on me, and it looked like he was about tolaunch into a tirade when his hand shot to his gurgling stomach. “Oh, god!”
I wasn’t sure if Nash heard my chuckle as he spun and hot-footed it out of the room, no doubt heading for the nearest toilet.
I sat back in my chair, smiling to myself.
Mission accomplished.