Chapter 12
Awoman’s stern, weary voice floats out of the dark interior of the house.
“Wait in the hall. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Completely alone now, on the cold, echoing tiles of the huge entrance hallway, I get my first sense of being in enemy territory. No one here is going to protect me. Nobody here would be afraid of Daddy, like everybody in my life has been, up to now. My previous life.
I’ve been exiled into a dark kingdom, a place where dreams grow in the gloom and tangle into a seventies or eighties horror movie. High arches, dark corridors, and shadowed doorways all set off trembling voices moaning in the back of my head, Don’t go there!
Fear of Daddy kept every man away from me. I’ve never even been properly kissed. Some grasping fumbles and wet trembles aside, I’ve hardly been touched. Nobody was prepared to brave Daddy’s wrath and vengeance to come near me.
Now I’m here like a sacrificial lamb, delivered for a wedding nobody wants. Here, I’m alone, anything can happen to me. With my consent and agreement, or without it. Nobody would know or care.
Dark thoughts curl up and down my back and stalk around my mind. And I’m so inexperienced that the thrills intrigue me. I want something, anything, so much that it seems worth risking everything for a breathless moment, a searing touch. Anything.
All the security I ever knew, all the protection that I grew up with has gone, left me behind. I’m feeling more completely exposed than I ever thought I could.
A hollow sensation deep in my gut calls out for what feels like the first time, in fear and dread. I don’t know what it is to live without the cozy wrapping of untouchability around me. I feel helpless and unprepared. I don’t believe that I’ll ever feel completely safe again.
A deep, powerful man’s voice echoes down the wide staircase. Not the father. Not old enough. Not the youngest, though.
“Are you the new cleaner?” There’s no mistaking the arrogant, dismissive scorn in his words. “It’s about time. The smell from the basement is rank. You’d better get moving.”
I peer up, but I can’t see through the gloom and the glare of the few dusty streams of light.
Finally, he moves around the bannister and I get a look at him. My breath and my heart both stop.
Him.
One glimpse of that face would be enough to stab fear into any heart.
In the flesh, even from this far below, he’s a formidable figure. Broad shouldered in a tailored suit, he looms large like a bomb. The shadow of stubble looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed or, more likely, a fight. Icy blue eyes, brimmed with chilly disdain. They were locked onto me with a mix of scorn and a curious interest that sent shivers down my spine.
Him.
Four floors above me, leaning on the bannister, his arms are spread wide as he leans on his huge hands. Anyone in the city would recognize him. The eldest son. Second in command and heir to the Fortuna empire.
A careless tousle of black hair makes a dark shadow over half his face. The other half is a storm of menace.
With a smirk, he says, “Looks like we’ve got a little parcel of trouble.”