Chapter Two #2
Taking a closer look at the panel beside the door, I saw that the button labeled with a 'P' was lit. Jacob lived in the penthouse. He probably owned the whole building. As the elevator glided to a stop, a dizzying sense of vertigo hit me.
Of course he owned the building. He owned a good portion of the city. Including me.
The doors slid open to reveal the gleaming hardwood floor of a foyer, surrounded by smooth, creamy walls, the heavy, complicated moldings at the ceiling a soft white. More oil paintings like the one in the elevator.
A narrow table sat against one wall with a stack of mail on top, a half-open gym bag slouching beneath. The human touch in all this elegant beauty reminded me where we were. Jacob's home. And now mine, for however long this lasted.
A long hall, lined with white wainscoting, led to the rest of the penthouse. I followed Jacob, intensely curious about the space this man would call his home.
For someone who was so contained, who preferred a pet to a girlfriend, I'd expected cold and austere. Instead, his home was as warm and elegant as his office.
The long hall opened into a wide space with a kitchen and breakfast area on one side and a huge sitting room complete with couches, an armchair and an oversized television on the other.
Filled with more polished antiques, except for the television, the space managed to be both impressive and welcoming.
Without a glance at me, Jacob continued through the great room and turned down another hallway. I spotted what looked like a dining room on one side, then an office behind glass French doors on the other.
Another turn, and Jacob stopped to open a door. He entered the room and held the door open for me to follow.
Inside, I saw an enormous black canopy bed covered with a snow white, fluffy duvet, the dark headboard partially blocked with matching white pillows. I got the vague impression of bedside tables in the same deep black, and an armchair in the corner, but the bed had most of my attention.
It was both the most inviting thing I'd seen in ages and somewhat intimidating. Not unlike Jacob himself. It didn't take much imagination to picture some of the things Jacob could do to me in that bed.
I shifted, rubbing my thighs together, suddenly aware of how aroused I'd been only a few minutes before, kneeling in front of Jacob after sucking his cock.
His taste lingered on my tongue. I wasn't sure if I was hoping he'd brought me here to fuck me, or afraid he had.
My head spinning with nerves, relief, arousal and heavy exhaustion, I looked at Jacob, waiting for him to say something. That half-smile was back, giving me the uncomfortable sense that he was reading my mind.
"This will be your room for the duration of your stay. I need to get back to work, but I'll be back after six tonight."
"Would you like me to make dinner?" I asked, sounding far more wifely than I'd intended.
"I forgot," he said, a gleam of new interest in his eyes. "John used to brag about your cooking."
"I took classes," I said, feeling stupid. I was a college drop-out, but I'd been to every cooking class in a hundred-mile radius.
John hadn't wanted a wife with a degree in education. He'd wanted one who could hold dinner parties with intricately folded napkins and complicated gourmet food.
"Not tonight," Jacob said. "I'll have something sent in. We'll talk about what you can cook over dinner tonight. I wouldn't mind coming home to a hot meal once in a while."
I nodded, not sure what else to do. Normally, I was fabulous with small talk. Large groups or one-on-one, I was one of those people who always knew what to say.
Even with Jacob, when we'd met during my marriage, I was never at a loss for words. But back then, I'd been the wife of a colleague. Now I was his pet. An indentured sexual servant.
On top of all the other shocks I'd experienced since John's death, this one seemed to have frozen my social skills. I felt as though I'd used every ounce of intelligence and resolve to get away from Big John.
Once Jacob had agreed to my plan, I'd hit empty, run down like a wind-up toy at the end of its cycle. I glanced at the huge, fluffy bed again. It looked like heaven. Following my gaze, Jacob said,
"Why don't you relax? Take a nap. There's food in the fridge if you're hungry." He started for the door to the bedroom, not waiting for me to respond. Before he disappeared into the hall, he turned back, pinning me with those brilliant silver eyes.
"I'm glad you came to me, Abigail. I think we'll solve each other's problems nicely. Now get some rest."
"Is that an order?" I asked, the question somehow sounding both flirtatious and uncertain.
"Yes," he answered, his gaze serious. "Everything that you are is mine now. And I take care of what belongs to me."
At that scary pronouncement, he vanished, leaving me alone. I stood in the center of my new bedroom, undecided. I wasn't hungry. I knew I should be. I hadn't been eating much lately.
Too much coffee early in the day, on top of the fear twisting my stomach since the moment I'd slipped from my bed before dawn, left me disinterested in food. But a shower—that was a different story.
I felt like I'd been wearing these clothes for weeks. And if the bedroom was this nice, what did the bathroom look like?
I didn't wait to find out. Crossing the room, I pushed open the door to find it was about the size of the master bath in the home I'd shared with John. We'd had a very nice house, a semi-custom two-story with a basement on a few acres on the edge of the Jordans’ land.
Spacious and new, it was nicer than most, though not as nice as the home I'd grown up in. Jacob's place left both my former homes in the dust.
The guest bath was all white marble, with a huge shower, garden tub, and a long marble counter highlighting the wide, deep custom, glass sink in a delicate sky blue. The towels, neatly hung beside the shower, were the same blue, as was the frame around the mirror over the counter.
It was lovely and feminine, without being so girly a male guest would feel out of place. I loved it. The tub beckoned, but I had a feeling if I got in, I'd be in danger of passing out. The longer I stood there, the more I knew exactly what I wanted. A long, hot shower and a nap.
Poking around, I discovered a thick robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The linen closet held more towels, a hair dryer and a basket of unopened toiletries.
Grabbing what I needed, I headed for the shower, shedding clothes as I went. Bliss. Enveloped by hot steam, I tilted my head back into the spray, letting the water wash it all away.
For the first time since I'd heard John and his father arguing about my 'obligations' to the family, I felt safe.
It was stupid. I knew Jacob little better than I'd known John before we married, and look how that had turned out. I'd thought I was marrying a nice guy who was getting ready to go into business with his father.
I'd actually married the only legitimate member of the biggest criminal family in central Georgia. Jacob had done business with them. Why was I so sure he was any better?
I didn't have an answer. As I washed my hair and shaved my legs, I pushed the thoughts from my mind. I'd had two goals—to secure my mother's care and get away from Big John.
Jacob had taken care of both. I wasn't going to question it. For now, I was going to stick with my post blow-job epiphany.
Enjoy what I could, and get through the rest.
And stop being afraid.