Chapter 22 #3
“Are they coming?” I frown.
His eyes flick over to me as if surprised. “No. They just….” He gives an embarrassed shrug. “Have to check the place and then I’ll tell them to go.”
“Check for what?”
“Just the safety of things.”
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. “Do they think I have someone in here waiting to take you out?”
“Do you?”
“Do I count?” I clench a fist. “I reckon I could beat you in a fight.”
“I have no doubt.” He smiles as he drives into my garage, suddenly the sound of the engine echoes loudly off the walls. It’s like a low and rumbling jet plane.
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “What even is this car?”
“Don’t you love it?” He puts his foot on the pedal and it roars loudly.
“Stop.” I laugh. “The neighbors will call the police.” He turns the engine off and the garage falls silent.
Philippe and Stefan and one other man are in the car, I have seen him before but I don’t know his name.
He must be Edward’s personal guard, he’s so huge he looks like the Terminator.
They walk up the driveway and into the garage. “Hello,” I say awkwardly.
Edward must sense my agitation at them being here. “Just come in and look around and then I’ll be fine, you can go.”
“I—” They exchange glances.
“I’ll be fine.” Edward cuts him off. “Nobody knows I’m here and we weren’t followed.”
They still don’t seem mollified.
“We won’t leave the house,” I tell them as I hold the remote up to close the garage door. “This way.” I open the internal door and secretly want to die.
“This is Aleki.” He introduces me to the other man, he’s Polynesian or maybe Hawaiian, very handsome, and very scary.
“Hello.” I smile.
He nods but doesn’t say anything, how many women has he met in the past?
Insecurity screams through my bloodstream, they are used to rich women in palaces and here I am…my house is anything but rich.
We walk in and my eyes flick to Edward in a silent plea. Get them out of my house.
“You have two minutes,” he tells them.
They walk past us and begin to look around, they open the cupboard doors and peel the curtains back to check the window locks before disappearing upstairs. I stand on the spot, feeling violated.
“They’ll be gone in a minute,” Edward says softly.
I nod, I know this isn’t his fault but damn it, I hate this invasion of privacy. While he’s out and about is one thing, but damn it.
This is my home.
What do they actually think is going to happen here? Annoyed, I go to the kitchen and turn the kettle on and I hear them come back downstairs. “So we….”
“Baisse d’un ton.” Edward murmurs. (Translation: Keep your voice down.)
My ears prick up, Edward is speaking to them in French, he doesn’t want me to know what they’re saying.
“Ton sac est en haut. L’arme est dons la poche latérale.” I hear a muffled voice. (Translation: Your bag is upstairs, the gun is in the side pocket.)
“Merci.”
L’arme?
Gun…did I just hear something about a gun? I don’t speak French, but there are some words I recognize. I walk back out into the living area, “Au revoir, Mademoiselle Sorenson.” They nod.
“Goodbye.” I fake a smile; my mind is reeling.
Good riddance.
“Ne quittez pas la maison, Monsieur Prescott.” (Translation: Do not leave the house, Mr. Prescott.)
“Je n’en ferai rien.” (Translation: I won’t.)
“Verrouille la porte derrière nous.” (Translation: Lock the door behind us.)
Lock, another familiar word.
They walk out the door and I close it behind them and lock it, get out of my house, fuckers.
Edward’s eyes find mine and he gives me a soft smile. “You don’t like my men in your house?”
“No.”
“They’re gone now.” He takes me into his arms. “Forget about them.”
“Why did they say gun?”
“What?” He plays dumb.
“I heard the word gun.”
“They left a gun upstairs for me.”
“Why?”
“In case I need it.”
“Why would you need a gun to stay at my house?”
“Alora.” He holds me at arm’s length. “It’s a precaution and we won’t need it, but just in case something goes bump in the night, we have protection.”
“Has something happened before?”
“It has.” He walks to my back French doors and looks out to my little terrace garden. “This is lovely.”
“Don’t change the subject, Edward.”
“I’m not, your garden is lovely, but I told you before. I am a target and precautions need to be taken. I don’t sleep at premises other than my own, but seeing….”
His voice trails off.
“But seeing what?”
“Seeing as we are new and you wanted to cook me dinner here in private.”
In private?
I stare at him as I try to read between the lines. “Is Hermione going to be calling on your houses and you don’t want her to see me, is that what you’re saying?”
“No.”
“So what are we hiding from?”
“The paparazzi, as soon as I am photographed with you there will be a media frenzy and Hermione doesn’t need that added pressure right now.
” He takes me into his arms. “And neither do you.” He kisses me softly.
“Besides, I would like some time for us to be alone for a while without distractions.” He kisses me again, his tongue sliding through my lips.
“Wouldn’t you?” I feel myself melt into his arms, he puts his finger under my chin, bringing my face up to his. “Okay?”
“Okay.” I smile, honestly, this man could sell honey to a bee.
He steps back from me. “So…show me around.”
“Well.” I snap out of my annoyance. “This is the living room.” I hold my hand out and point to the furnishings. “Armchair. Armchair. Couch. Coffee table.”
“You have beautiful taste.” He smiles as he looks around. “Something tells me that you like antiques?”
“Maybe a little.” I smile proudly as I look around the room and I try to see it through his eyes for the first time.
I’m not going to lie, I love my home more than anything in the world.
The walls are a warm cream with crown molding, the drapes are a deep coffee-colored velvet and hang from the twelve-foot ceilings.
There is a huge, gilded mirror above the cream marble fireplace and Gobelin tapestries are hung in assorted gold frames.
Chandeliers and pleated gold lamps add ambience.
The details are in the deep red cushions and vases of flowers.
The most beautiful thing about living here has been the joy of being over the top with my extravagant French furnishings.
My place is small but it’s decorated as if it’s a palace.
“This is the kitchen.” I show him proudly. “I had this remodeled just last year.” I point to the oven. “My pièce de résistance.”
He eyes it over. “You like your oven?”
“I love my oven.”
“You are in love with your oven?” Amusement flashes across his face.
“I love to cook.”
“Hmm.” He walks around with his hands clasped behind his back as he takes it all in. “And what is…that?”
I glance up to where he gestured. “What do you mean?”
“That plant thing growing up the wall.”
“Oh, right.” I laugh. “That’s a devil’s ivy, she was my first family member I bought when I moved to France, she’s lovely isn’t she?”
“Hmm.” A trace of a frown flashes across his face. “A family member?”
“Plants are living things too, you know.”
“If you say so.” Amusement crosses his face. “I would assume you’d have bought a better-looking family member.”
“You don’t like devil’s ivy?”
“I just never saw one growing up a wall on the inside of a house.”
“How sad for you.”
He gives me a slow, sexy smile and I feel it all the way to my bones.
“Oh.” I remember something. “Come out here.” I open the French doors to my garden; it has stone walls on either side blocking out the neighbors but the most beautiful view of the ocean.
There’s a small table for two on the patio and two deck chairs on the small, round grassed area.
“Let me show you my pride and joy.” We walk down a little stone path and I hold out my hands, “Ta-da.”
He frowns as if confused. “What’s that?”
“It’s my vegetable garden.”
“You grow vegetables?”
“I do.” I smile proudly and then I rush to the other side. “Ah, and over here is my flower garden. I’m growing peonies, they’ve always been my favorite.” I pull out a weed.
He gives a subtle shake of his head. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Alora.”
I pull out another weed. “What do you mean?”
“You have a body built for sin and fuck like an….” He shrugs as if searching for the right word. “Animal demon. And yet…you cook and garden like a farmer.”
“An animal demon?” I smile as I slide my hands around his waist. “How does an animal demon fuck?”
His dark eyes hold mine. “Really fucking good.”
I giggle as I take him by the hand and begin leading him back inside the house. “Here’s how tonight’s going to go, Mr. Prescott.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m going to cook you dinner and then I’m going to take you upstairs and you can meet a possessed animal demon.” He stops and pulls me back to him and we kiss. Really hard. Our lips linger over each other’s and I feel that throb of arousal that swirls between us.
“This night is sounding very promising indeed.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me again, this time with suction, and I feel his erection grow between us.
I know if I don’t stop this there will be no cooking, and I want his first night here with me to be more than sex. I pull out of the kiss and step back. “Your job is to light the candles and set the table.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I’m cooking.”
“And.”
I pass him the matches. “Go around and light the candles and turn the lamps on to set the mood.”
“Oh.” He looks around as if having jobs is totally foreign to him. “Okay. I could do that.” His phone beeps with a text and he digs it out of his pocket and reads it.
“Why don’t you switch it off?”
He glances up. “What?”
“Switch it off.” I take his phone from him and I put it on the fireplace mantle. “When you’re here with me, then you’re here with me.” I slide my hand down and cup his crotch. “Time to relax.”
EDWARD