Chapter 11
THEA
The massive, wrought-iron gate in the back doesn’t latch properly. There’s an electronic panel that I assume controls the bolt, but it doesn’t catch.
“Miss Thea?”
I lean closer, trying to spot what the issue is. The gate nearly blends with the massive hedges that both prevent anyone from seeing in and from scaling into or out of the property. I’ve checked more than a few times—there’s no way to climb it.
But the gate…
“Miss Thea?”
I place my hand on the gate, pulling it just a bit.
It opens.
Holy shit.
Once the gate is pulled a bit, I can see what the problem is—one of the vines, just thick enough—has grown over the sensor.
“Miss Thea? Are you in il mundo dei vivi?”
Oscar’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
Shit.
I turn just in time to see him approach.
“I’m here,” I say. “Just got distracted.”
Oscar stops beside me, his hands clasped behind his back. His expression is one of mild concern.
“Distracted by what, if I may ask?”
I gesture vaguely at the hedge, stepping away from the gate.
“This. It’s beautiful. What kind of plant is it?”
He follows my gaze, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to call my bluff, to tell me he sees right through me. But then his face softens with something like pride.
“Taxus baccata,” he says. “English yew. Though these particular specimens are Italian in origin—from Emilia-Romagna—Mr. Moretti’s grandfather had them imported in the 1970s.”
“They’re huge.” The hedges tower at least twelve feet high; they’re dense and impenetrable. I doubt I could work my fingers through more than a few inches.
“Si, si. They’re nearly fifty years old.
Yew grows slowly, but it lives for centuries.
There are yews in England over a thousand years old.
” He reaches out, running his fingers along the dark green needles.
“Poisonous, even—in high enough quantities. Every part of the plant except for the flesh of the berries.”
“That’s cheerful. And he can have a wall of poison in the middle of the city?”
“You’d have to really feast for the poison to be deadly,” Oscar says. “But you’re right—it’s hardly up to code. Gabriel’s grandfather and one city official or another came to an agreement decades ago. So what you’re seeing is unique.”
I reach out and touch the needles.
Oscar chuckles. “Mr. Moretti appreciates beauty with teeth. Beautiful but dangerous.”
Like everything else in this house, apparently.
“They require quite a bit of maintenance,” he goes on, gesturing down the length of the hedges toward a pair of men at work on the plants. “Trimming, shaping, ensuring that nothing grows where it shouldn’t.”
He leans forward to inspect a section near the gate entrance.
My heart stutters. Does he see the vine?
His hand hovers near it, and I hold my breath.
“Though Guiseppe does an excellent job keeping them pristine,” he finishes, dropping his hand. “He’ll be here this weekend for his monthly inspection.”
Shit. Inspection means that he might find the vine and fix the sensor. Then my one possible exit will be gone.
“Well,” I say quickly, too brightly, “they’re really lovely—poisonous or not. Thanks for explaining their origin.”
Oscar turns to me, his expression unreadable.
For a long moment, he says nothing. Then he smiles, kind and patient, something flickering underneath I can’t quite read.
“Prego, Miss Thea,” he says softly. “My pleasure.”
He gestures back toward the house. “Shall we continue? The library still needs attention before lunch.”
“Of course.”
I follow him across the lawn, forcing myself not to look back at the gate.
I can feel his eyes on me.
And I’m not entirely sure he believed a single word I said.
I’m halfway through dusting the library when one of the staff approaches me.
“Miss Thea?”
I turn. “Yes?”
“Mr. Moretti wants to see you in his study.”
“Now?”
“Yes. He said it was urgent.”
Alright, then. I set down my duster and follow her through the house, my pulse picking up with every step. By the time we reach the study, my heart’s racing.
The staff member knocks on the door, slipping away before he answers.
“Come in.”
I open the door.
The orange light from the fire the other night has been replaced by beams of daylight streaming in through the many windows along the east wall. My eyes flick to the desk, the one where he screwed me. My cheeks redden.
Thankfully, Gabriel’s not naked this time. Instead, he’s standing by the largest of the windows, hands in his pockets, looking over the grounds. He doesn’t turn when I enter.
“Close the door.”
I do as he says. Then I wait, arms crossed, refusing to make this easy for him.
Finally, he turns and looks at me.
“There’s an event tonight,” he says. “Black-tie affair at the Belvedere. I need to make an appearance with some VIPs from the city.”
“Okay.”
“You’re my plus one.”
“Your—” I shake my head, incredulous. “You want me to go to some fancy event with you? As your date?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why doesn’t matter. I’m telling you. That’s enough.”
Heat floods my face from anger this time, not embarrassment.
He cocks his head to the side.
“There a problem?”
“Why do you care all of a sudden?”
“I’m curious.”
“This morning,” I say, “you called me the help in front of that Russian guy. You looked at me like I was a piece of furniture. And now you want me to put on a dress and smile, pretend to be your… what, exactly? Your girlfriend? Your arm candy?”
His jaw tightens. “That was Kolya Sokolov. He needed to see you as staff, nothing more. If he’d thought that you were important to me—”
“I’m not important to you.”
“—he would’ve used it against me,” he finishes, his tone clipped. “So yes, I dismissed you. Because keeping you safe is more important than protecting your feelings.”
I open my mouth, then close it. What the hell is he talking about? Keeping me safe?
Before I can think too much about it, he takes a step closer.
“The event tonight is different. It’s neutral ground. Public. I need you there.”
“Why?”
“Because showing up alone sends a message that I don’t want to send. A man who shows up alone to such an event says that he doesn’t care about women. That he has bigger things on his mind, dangerous things.”
“Then take one of the other girls here. Hell, I’m sure you’ve got a little black book or something in your office full of women who you could get here on a moment’s notice. Or call Amanda.”
He narrows his eyes, shakes his head.
“I don’t want any of them. I want you.”
Another step closer.
“There’s another message that I want to send tonight, a more important one.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re mine.”
There it is again, that word—mine.
The last time I was in this room with him, it felt good, like an admission, a bond.
Right now, I don’t know what it feels like.
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“What about the closet upstairs?” he asks, “in your room. There are plenty of clothes in there. I told Lara to make sure of it.”
“There are clothes, yeah. Casual stuff. Nothing appropriate for a black-tie event.”
As soon as I speak the words, another question comes to mind—why the hell did he have that closet filled with clothes in my size? Was he expecting me? I push the thought out of my head.
Gabriel studies me for a long moment. Then he moves to his desk, picks up his phone, and makes a call.
“Lara,” he says. “I need a favor.”
I can hear her voice on the other end, bright and curious.
“Thea needs a gown. Something elegant. Black tie. Tonight.”
They chat for a moment, Gabriel sharing my size.
How does he know?
Gabriel flicks his eyes to mine for a flash of a second.
“She’ll cooperate. Be here as soon as you can.”
With that, he hangs up without waiting for a response.
I cross my arms tighter. “You can’t just—”
“I can. And I am.” He walks around the desk, closing the distance between us. “You’ll wear whatever Lara picks out. You’ll stay by my side. You’ll smile when appropriate. And you’ll remember that every man in that room is dangerous, understand?”
“And what if I say no?”
“You won’t.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
“Because I know you, Thea.” He’s close enough now that I can smell the delicious cedar musk of his cologne.
“You want to be angry with me. You want to hate me for this morning. But you won’t say no because you’re curious.
You want to see what happens when you step into my world.
And because—” he leans in, his mouth only inches from my ear, “—you like it when I tell you what to do.”
My breath catches. My pussy clenches.
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” His hand comes up, fingers grazing my jaw. “Last night, when I told you to come, you obeyed. And you loved it.”
Heat pools low in my stomach, traitorous, but undeniable.
“I was…” I try to find the words. “That was different.”
“Was it?”
His thumb brushes over my lower lip, and my knees go weak.
I should pull away. I should remind him that he doesn’t get to dismiss me one moment and then touch me like this the next.
But I don’t. Because he’s right.
I do want to see his world. I am curious. And some sick, twisted part of me wants to know what it feels like to stand beside him in a roomful of dangerous people and belong there.
“The event starts at eight,” he says. “Lara will have you ready by seven. Don’t be late.”
“And if I am?”
I can’t help but challenge him, knowing what it’ll bring. What the hell is wrong with me?
His mouth curves, his expression dark and promising. His hand finds my waist, then moves down until he’s at the hem of my dress before moving back up my inner thigh. I gasp, my legs shaking.
“Then I’ll come find you.”
His hand brushes against my pussy through my panties. I’m wet, and he can feel it. Goddammit.
“And when I do, I’ll make sure you’re very, very sorry.”
He finishes with a press against my slit, applying just enough pressure against my clit to make me gasp.
When he pulls his hand away, I crave it again instantly.
“Go,” he says, his tone once again firm and commanding. “Lara’s probably already on her way up.”
I nod, then turn toward the door. My pulse races as I cross the room, my thoughts a tangled mess of anger, arousal, and anticipation.
“Thea.”
I pause, glancing over my shoulder.
“You looked beautiful this morning, even in that ridiculous uniform.”
My heart stutters and I leave before I do something stupid.
Like believe him.
By the time I reach my room, Lara’s already there. A few shoe boxes are on the bed, and a massive makeup case is on the vanity.
She grins when she sees me.
“Alright, Cinderella,” she says. “Let’s get you ready for the ball.”
I want to be irritated, to tell her that I don’t need her help. I want to tell her that this whole thing is ridiculous.
But instead, I find myself grinning back at her. Just a little.