Chapter Twenty-One
Ashlynn
My entire body felt like jello. I could barely move my arms and legs, every single part of me was so spent. I laid there for a few seconds, the images of last night floating in my head. For the third time, I woke up with Steele next to me in bed. But this time, I didn’t sneak out. I rolled over, surprised that he was already awake.
He stared at me, his eyes practically topaz in the morning light. Unlike his rooms in London, there was natural light in his bedroom here. I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and waited for him to say something.
He didn’t break eye contact and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and bit it. It was just about the sexiest thing I had ever seen, but I knew he’d done it unconsciously.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice husky. He brought his hand up to lightly stroke my hair, his fingers combing through the tangles.
I suddenly felt shy now that the sun was up and the passion had settled. “Morning.”
He breathed deeply and then pulled me on top of him, my naked body pressed tightly against his. I put my hands on his shoulders and sat up, straddling him.
“If this is what it’s like to have you, Ashlynn Phillips, I should have kidnapped you a long time ago.” He grabbed my hips and slowly helped me rock against him. When I sat up, I didn’t mean to initiate sex, but he was ready to go and it would be a lie to say I wasn’t interested.
He leaned up against the headboard and kissed me, his lips just as hungry as they had been the night before. I continued to rock against him, and he pulled me up gently and then helped me settle down on his length.
I’d never been in this position before, but Steele held my hips and helped guide me. Within a few minutes, we were both panting, and I released a split second before he came inside of me. I felt his seed, warm and heavy, and the realization of what just happened, multiple times since last night, stopped me hard.
“What’s wrong?” Steele asked, instantly picking up my panic.
I gestured to where our bodies were locked together, where his seed had started to seep out of me. He eyed his handiwork, a fleeting look of pride in his eyes.
“Please tell me you’re clean,” I said, the fear clear in my tone.
“Of course I am. I’m regularly tested. Besides, I’ve never fucked a woman without a condom. Well, before last night.”
I blushed, but my panic was still at the surface. “I haven’t been taking my birth control—”
He frowned, but then brushed it off. “I’ll have a doctor come around today and we’ll get you the shot. It takes a while to be effective. I’m not going to apologize for what I did, though.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The chances were pretty slim, based on where I knew I was in my cycle, but to hear Steele’s lack of fear freaked me out. What the hell was happening?
He pulled me back beside him, pressing my head to his chest, stroking my hair. “Relax, Ashlynn. There’s ways to ensure we don’t have any lasting effects from our night together.”
I nodded, the panic slowly starting to dissipate. But now that the fear was gone, I was back to analyzing what the hell happened last night. I knew we were going to have sex again—it was a no brainer considering how the evening had unfolded.
And even worse than that, I didn’t know how I was going to stop.
It turned out that Steele ran his London house incredibly lean compared to his Parisian manor. As soon as I emerged from the shower, Steele had a full breakfast spread in his room.
“Did you make this?” I asked, a towel wrapped tightly around my body.
“I have a cook here. A housekeeper, too.”
“Holding out on me, huh?”
Steele just smiled, and I returned his grin. I was trying to keep things light. I knew once we had ‘the discussion’ about what exactly happened, things would change.
“I have to go into the city today,” he said, suddenly sitting up against the headboard. He hadn’t gotten dressed and was still naked. It took great restraint to pull my eyes up from his chest when he talked.
“What for?”
He looked down at his phone for a few seconds before answering. “How are we going to play this, Ashlynn?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, knowing the conversation was coming.
“Do you want to pretend like I’m not a thief and a criminal? Would you like me to lie to you so you can convince yourself that what is happening here between us is healthy?”
I frowned, not sure what he was getting at. “What exactly do you do? And how did my father get wrapped up in it?”
He met my eyes, watching my reaction. “There’s no going back after this. If you become involved in my affairs, that’s it. I can’t ever let you go. Even if I wanted to, you’d be in perpetual danger. You’re in danger being around me right now. The only difference is that I’m practically untouchable and can protect you.”
I gulped, buying myself some time by looking around the floor for where I’d left my pajamas.
“Ashlynn. Look at me.”
I didn’t want to look at him. I couldn’t think straight when I looked into his eyes.
“I can’t, Steele. I can’t get involved with you. Not like that. Yes, we have passion, but it’s nothing but lust. We’ll never work.”
His face was a mask of impartiality.
“Will you let me go?” I whispered, frightened at what the answer would be.
He ran his fingers through his hair and got out of bed, pulling on his boxers and looking for his shirt.
“Steele. Will you please let me go home?”
His face slowly morphed into one of restrained anger. “What home, exactly, Ashlynn? The pitiful flat you were just evicted from? The penthouse in New York where your father takes his barely legal trophy girlfriends? Do you want to go back to being the Harringtons’ live-in nanny? What the hell is waiting for you out there except your asshole father who won’t lift a finger to save you?”
My own anger welled up to the surface, hurt at the way he was describing my life and my relationships, as if I possessed nothing of value and he had saved me from mediocrity.
“You want to keep me here,” I spat. “Your own private whore. Despite what you think, I have way more self-respect than that.”
I rushed out of his room, slamming the door behind me. I sought refuge in my fake room, sitting on my cheap couch with my mother’s afghan wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I sobbed, wishing I’d never gotten involved with Steele. I should have cut his throat that first time in the kitchen.
After a few minutes, he knocked on the door, calling my name softly, but I ignored him. I didn’t want to see his stupid face, smell his damn cologne. He tried a few more times, and then he gave up.
My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since last night. Our breakfast was interrupted by the argument. I decided to go downstairs and try to find the kitchen. I opened my dresser drawer and found my favorite pair of jeans, and pulled out a simple pink top. As much as I hated Steele, I was thankful to have my own clothing again.
I peered down the hall, hoping not to run into anyone. Once I was sure that the coast was clear, I tiptoed down the steps in my bare feet. The kitchen was easy to find; I could smell it way before I could see it. I pushed open a double door and came face to face with an elderly woman.
“Why, hello dear,” she said kindly, seemingly unsurprised by my presence. “Can I get you some lunch?”
It was a stark contrast from the first bit of captivity under Steele’s domain. It was hard to believe that I went from peeing in a bucket and begging for water to being cooked for in a mansion. Yet I felt guilty for enjoying these things when I was actually still being held against my will.
But…was I? I hadn’t tried to run since I was abducted by the men posing to work for my father. I was at an airport—twice—and I could have easily signaled for help. I could have run out of the restaurant and hailed a cab, I could have told someone, anyone I saw that I was a hostage and needed help. But instead, I ate salmon and made moon eyes across the table at my jailor.
“Something simple is fine,” I said, trying to shake away all the escape plans that came to me, and the irritation I felt for not thinking about them yesterday.
The woman turned and started bustling around the large kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was both contemporary and traditional. High exposed beams ran through the ceiling, but the appliances and countertops were all modern.
I found a stool in the kitchen and sat down. It was nice to be around another person.
“What’s your name?” I asked, thinking maybe I could get her to help me escape.
“Glinda,” she said. “Yes, like in The Wizard of Oz.” She laughed heartily, and I liked her immediately.
“I’m–”
“I know who you are, Miss Phillips. Mr. Steele told me how he’s keeping you safe.”
I snorted, unable to help myself. “Did he tell you how he kidnapped me from my bed?”
“I’ll admit, Mr. Steele sometimes lives outside the boundaries of the law–”
“No kidding.”
“But deep down, he has a good heart.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say. Sure, he’d saved me a couple of times. But if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have needed saving. Bringing my stuff to his estate was kind, but if he hadn’t kidnapped me, I wouldn’t have lost my apartment. A small part of me wondered about the men who tried to abduct me. Would they have found me in Derbyshire? They managed to locate me at Steele’s, which made me think yes. Did his intervention save my life?
“Is everything okay, Miss Phillips?”
I nodded, my mind a million miles away. Glinda put a plate in front of me with meats and cheeses, along with some fresh fruit.
“Do you want a glass of wine?”
“I’m good, thanks,” I replied. “Where is Steele?”
“He has business to attend to. But he’s taking you to an event tonight.”
“Another one?”
Glinda nodded, scrubbing a pot in the sink vigorously. “He hates them, but most of his customers come from word of mouth. These types of events are for the wealthiest of the wealthy. Mr. Steele is one of them, of course.”
“What types of customers?” I had an inkling that Steele’s occupation consisted mostly of theft.
Glinda ignored me, humming while she turned to the stove to stir a large pot. It smelled amazing, but I was too irritated to ask her what it was. I scarfed down my food, wanting to explore a bit while Steele was away. She cleared my plate, and I thanked her and left the kitchen.
I nosed around the first floor, absentmindedly stroking the elaborate curtains and looking at the view from each window. On the east side of the estate, there was a huge barn and what looked to be a riding arena, and I wondered if Steele owned horses. Directly behind the house was a serene little lake, and to the west there was a heavily wooded forest. I couldn’t see them, but I knew his security team was monitoring the perimeter of the estate. Whatever he did was dangerous enough to require a full security detail. I wanted no part in that type of life. My father’s dealings got me into this mess, and I wanted to be as far away from that world as I could.
I found the library and instantly made myself at home. There were floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a padded window bench in one corner. A few sofas were in the middle of the room, with a mahogany coffee table. Oddly enough, there was a beautiful chess set, set up in the middle of a game. I sat on the couch and looked at the board, the pieces themselves finer than anything I’d ever seen. They appeared to be made of crystal, and I was pretty sure it was a baccarat set. Of course, leave it to Steele to own a half-million dollar chess set. But what intrigued me more was that it appeared as if someone had recently been playing. I didn’t peg Steele for an intellectual, but he was cultured, so a fondness for chess wasn’t too out of left field.
I stood up and did a quick survey of the books. There was pretty much every classic I could think of, so I pulled out The Canterbury Tales and then decided to go back upstairs and grab my mom’s afghan.
There was no one in the hall, and no one bothered me as I made my way up to my borrowed bedroom. I pulled the afghan over my shoulders, and I instantly felt better. It was stupid, but having the blanket made me feel like my mom was with me, somehow. I tried to imagine what she would make of my situation. Would she be frightened for me? Would she have forced my father to act quickly? Did she know the details of my father’s dealings? My heart thudded with sorrow, making me miss my mom even more. Unfortunately, I’d never know the answers to these questions, but it was hard for me to believe that my mother would marry my father, or stay with him, if she had known this side of him.
I walked back into the library and picked up my book. The couch looked inviting, so I cuddled up with my afghan and tried to lose myself in a good book.
I was back in New York, sleeping in my bed in the penthouse. I could feel eyes upon me; someone lurking at the bottom of my bed. When I opened my eyes, a man with a huge black mask was standing over me, slashing at me through the blankets.
I woke up with a jolt, completely disoriented. I hadn’t had any type of stability for the past couple of weeks, rarely waking up in the same place for two days in a row. I sat up, recognizing the room around me. I must have dozed off while reading. The library was dark, but the fireplace illuminated a few feet in front of it, bathing everything in a soft glow.
To my left sat Steele. He looked regal sitting in the armchair next to the sofa, his dark hair slicked back and a smart black suit fit tightly across his massive shoulders. His eyes were a rich blue in the flickering firelight.
“Sleep well?” he asked, his voice carefully modulated.
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure what I would say to him if I wanted to talk to him. Which I didn’t. I grabbed the fallen book off the floor and replaced it in the bookshelf, pulling my afghan around my shoulders even tighter. I headed for the door.
“Ashlynn.” Steele said my name with the conviction of a prisoner’s last plea.
I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to acknowledge him. His earlier words had hit me hard, and he’d made my life feel like a farce. I’d always felt unimportant in my everyday life, but hearing Steele confirm it practically broke my heart.
But I wasn’t strong enough to refuse him.
I turned slowly on the spot, eyes downcast. If I looked into his pretty blue eyes while he told me pretty little lies, I’d end up where I didn’t want to be.
“Ashlynn, I’m sorry. I don’t even know where to start. I won’t apologize for taking you, because I’m quite certain that if I hadn’t, you’d be in the hands of the Irish mafia. And even if you hate me, I find it hard to believe that you’d prefer their company to mine.”
I expected him to make a dirty joke. To talk about how I couldn’t resist sex with him. But he just went on.
“If I could go back and change things between us, I still wouldn’t. You might want to deny it, but we have such a volatile chemistry that I feel swallowed whole by it. I don’t regret being with you. I only regret that we can’t continue.”
A part of me knew what he said was the truth. I’d been attracted to him from nearly the moment he took me. And since that time, my lust for him had only grown. I even felt something for him. I was sure it wasn’t love, but compassion, maybe? His actions were intolerable, but based on the glimpse of his earlier life that he’d shared with me, he worked with what he had and made a life for himself.
He took my silence in stride, and then stood up from the chair. As he passed me, I could smell his scent, masculine and strong, and it instantly brought me back to the bedroom. I pushed my feelings down—locked them away in a box to never see the light of day.
When he got to the doorframe, he stopped.
“Be ready by 7:00.”
Steele definitely had a thing for black. While not nearly as fancy as the dress I’d worn to that fateful party, it was still sexy and provocative. Plunging in the front and bare in the back, I felt quite scandalous as I teetered on my heels. The dress covered my feet, and my soles were almost healed, but the doctor had stopped by and given me some more antibiotics for my ankle, and, much to my protest, a birth control shot. I cowered in the corner of the room, rattling on about women”s rights while the doctor held the needle, irritated. He threatened to go get Steele to hold me down and then I finally acquiesced, knowing that once Steele got involved, I really wouldn’t have any choice. At least I still had the illusion of choice, I thought, when I rolled up my sleeve.
I wanted to ignore Steele’s demands—not put on the dress, forgo my makeup, and toss my hair into a messy ponytail—but I’d already planned out my evening. This time, I wasn’t going to sit back and play Steele’s devoted fiancée. No matter what the venue, I’d find someone to help me escape.
I didn’t wait for Steele to come fetch me. Starting now, I was no longer just lying in wait for my father to rescue me. I’d get proper help this time, and even if I had to drain my trust fund, which I’d never wanted to touch, I’d hire private security to keep me safe afterwards. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I waited for Steele, feeling more confident now that I was resolved to try and run again.
Steele came down the stairs, his tuxedo pressed and his shoes shiny. He held a small box in his hand, and I groaned when I saw it was jewelry. I wasn’t sure who he was trying to impress—the members of his society circle, or me. But, either way, I wasn’t buying what he had for sale.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he gave me his usual intense stare before opening the box. I gasped, and then tried really hard to cover my reaction.
Inside the box was the largest ring I’d ever seen. A light pink stone was in the center of the ring, easily four carats, with channel-set diamonds running along the band. My fingers itched to snatch the ring, but I stood still, feigning indifference.
Steele reached for my hand, and I felt the same amount of heat that I always experienced when we connected. He withdrew the ring from the box and placed it on my ring finger, on my left hand.
“It’s a loan,” he said, twisting the ring so it sat upright, “so don’t get any ideas. If you’re my fiancée, you need an engagement ring.”
I snorted, suppressing the urge to ogle the ring in the light. It was a pink diamond. I did appreciate jewelry, and heck, I was still a woman. Even if it was a ring for a fake engagement, I wanted to enjoy it. Heaven only knew if I’d ever get an actual proposal one day. As Steele’s prisoner, it was highly unlikely he’d let me date anyone else, I thought with a snort.
I followed him out to the car, still silent. This night’s car choice was a Porsche. Steele pulled the car out of the garage and down the gravel road of the driveway, towards the city.
Finally, my curiosity got the better of me. “Where are we going?”
Steele didn’t even glance over at me. Instead of his eyes on me while he drove, like past times, he focused on the road, like a racecar driver presented with a difficult course.
“The opera.”
That piqued my interest immediately. I hadn’t been to the opera in years, not since I was in high school. I loved everything about it, from the flawless singing to the tragic characters to the beautiful costumes.
I tried to contain my excitement, but it was hard. I’d had few pleasures since my imprisonment—one category aside—and it sounded like this could be an enjoyable night out.
“What opera is it?”
“La Bohème.”
Fitting. An opera set in France. But one that I loved dearly. A small smile played on my lips, and Steele looked over at me just as it flashed. He relaxed noticeably, and I did as well, even though I didn’t mean to. It was if we were a mirror image, both of us projecting on to the other, desperate to find our own reflection.
I did nothing to fill the silence on the way to the opera house. We pulled up to the parking garage, and Steele parked the car on the top level.
“Why did you park way up here?” I asked, a bit annoyed at the thought of having to walk down so many stairs. My feet were doing better, but the high heels did not do them any favors.
“Security. It’s easier for my team to monitor from up here. They have the opera house surrounded, so don’t even think about trying to run.” He made a motion as if to grab my hand, but then flexed his fingers and anchored his arms to his side.
“Don’t you ever wish for a different life? One where you didn’t have to strategically park? No security team?”
“Miss Phillips, no matter what you do, you’ll be looking over your shoulder. Thanks to your father. At least right now I’m doing it on your behalf.”
“I refuse to accept that.”
“Denying it doesn’t make it go away.”
We made our way to the front of the opera house.
I walked in, and my breath was sucked out of my chest. The painted ceiling, the architecture, the carvings, the flooring…it was magnificent. Everything was either cream or gold, and the famous grand staircase loomed before me. The marble gleamed in the light, and my heels tapped gently on the steps as we made our way up to our seats. The second we got into the theater, Steele laced our fingers together. When our hands touched, I felt longing all throughout my body. Was this normal? Did I just miss the passionate sex we enjoyed?
Steele’s jaw tightened and he seemed to shift uncomfortably as we approached his private box.
“You have this all to yourself?” I looked around, red velvet and gold everywhere. It was like I was transported back to the 1800s.
“Let’s just say I can use it whenever I want. I have some very appreciative customers in the right places.”
Customers. I tucked the knowledge away for further use, but my suspicions about his occupation were confirmed yet again.
Steele guided me to a seat, and then sat next to me. The second he was in his chair, he placed my hand on his knee, the engagement ring on my hand sparkling in the light.
“Wethers!”
A gentleman dressed smartly in a tuxedo sat down on the other side of Steele. He was easily in his sixties. He started speaking to Steele in rapid French, and I understood a few words, but they both spoke so fast that it was hard for me to keep up. The man asked Steele about his plans for Friday, and I thought that the Louvre was mentioned. Was Steele going to take me to the famous Louvre on Friday?
The man’s eyes suddenly landed on me. From his quizzical expression, I knew he was asking Steele who I was.
“Forgive me, Masten, this is my fiancée, Ashlynn Phillips.” I held out my hand to shake his, but the man closed my palm and kissed the top of my hand. I could feel Steele’s body tense next to mine, and I watched the vein in his neck expand as he held his breath. As soon as Masten dropped my hand, Steele resumed breathing. It was hard for me to imagine Steele, who had everything, jealous over a simple greeting.
“Ashlynn Phillips? Are you related to Topher Phillips?” The man spoke in English, switching seamlessly.
“I am,” I said carefully, not sure how or why this man knew of my father. He was well known in New York, but here, in Paris? Just how far was my father’s reach?
Masten gave Steele a fleeting look, and I was instantly aware that there was some kind of shared knowledge between the pair. Before I could be so bold as to ask how Masten knew my father, he mumbled about leaving his wife unattended and bustled out behind the curtain partitioning our seats.
The house lights dimmed, signaling that the opera was about to start. Steele put his hand protectively around the back of my seat, and the smell of his cologne swept over me. His arm was so close to my shoulder that I could practically hear his Omega watch ticking.
The orchestra started up, and my eyes were suddenly fixed to the stage. I knew that this theater was only used for operas occasionally, and I felt privileged to be able to see one here. I wasn’t super into history, but knowing some of the story behind this magnificent theater humbled me.
From the very beginning, I was enthralled. I’d seen La Bohème before, but this time the complicated and complex relationship between Mimi and Rudolfo took on a new meaning for me. I found myself comparing their similarities to my unorthodox relationship with Steele. By the end of act one, when they belted out their final notes, I was in tears.
The house lights came on during intermission, and Steele looked over at me. I knew I was a mess, my make-up running and my eyes bloodshot. His arms came up, and I assumed he was going to comfort me, and I couldn’t handle it.
“I’m going to go to the restroom,” I said, leaving my clutch on the chair. I dashed out of the box, disappearing into the crowd, heading for the bathroom. I waited in line, and then finally a stall opened up at the end.
The noise of the chattering women drowned out the sound of my sobs. I had never felt so confused before. Did I have feelings for Steele? Was that why every note hit me so hard? Or was it the fact that I might never find my true Rudolfo? I sank down to the floor, my back against the wall, not caring if I ruined the expensive dress on the floor of the bathroom. Grabbing some tissue from the dispenser, I blew my nose and tried to pull myself together. I wiped my mascara from my cheeks and then stood up, hoping to go back to my seat unnoticed, the darkness of the theater hiding my face.
As I made my way back to the box, a man bumped into me rather harshly. I turned around to yell at him, annoyed at how rude he was, but instead, the tall man just thrust a cell phone into my hand and then disappeared into the crowd. It was an old-fashioned flip phone, and I was immediately confused. The phone was open, and I went to close it, but then I suddenly heard my name coming out of the tiny speaker.
“Ashlynn? Ashlynn?”
I pressed the phone to my ear, my mouth gaping as I listened to my father’s voice.
“I don’t have much time, Ashlynn. I need you to listen. My men know where you are, and we have a plan in place to retrieve you. I can’t take you now, because that goddamn asshole has security all over the place, but one of his security team members is working for me. Be patient. Get rid of this phone, right now. I wouldn’t put it past that demon to frisk you.”
Before I could say anything, ask one of the million questions that were on my mind, the line went dead. I closed my mouth, knowing I looked like a codfish. I quickly glanced around the area, making sure Steele was nowhere in sight. I had no idea if he had men inside the theater, but I dumped the phone in the nearest trash can and made my way back to my seat so Steele wouldn’t notice the delay.
Steele looked at me, concern etched on his face when he saw me. For a split second, I wondered if he knew my father had contacted me. He patted the seat next to him, and I sat down nervously.
“Are you alright? I know it’s an emotional opera.”
My heart raced even faster. He didn’t suspect anything. I willed my breathing to slow, trying not to give away my thumping pulse.
“La Bohème was the last opera I saw with my mother.” I was surprised at the ease of the lie, and how it slipped off my tongue so quickly.
Steele’s face morphed into one of sympathy, and he took my hand in his, placing it back on his knee possessively. He squeezed it, showing his acknowledgment of my sorrow, and my heart gave a painful thud. Would my father hurt Steele? How was he going to rescue me? There was a part of me that didn’t want to see Steele hurt. It seemed like such a waste, that this handsome, intelligent man might cease to exist.
I quickly looked ahead, trying to immerse myself back into La Bohème. I couldn’t feel sympathy for my captor.
But instead of watching it, my head swam as I considered all my options. I had no way of getting ahold of my father, no way to know his intentions toward Steele. However, I assumed they would be lethal, and my heart gave another uncomfortable lurch when I pictured Steele on his knees, with a gun to his head. As the light went out behind his pretty blue eyes in my vision, I gave an audible sniffle.
Steele put his arm around me again, pulling me into his chest slightly, wrongly assuming I was emotional from the loss of my mother. His touch made it even worse, and I wanted to shrug off his arm, the guilt eating away at my stomach.