Chapter 15
JULIUS
Thank God for chores, and I never thought I’d say that. Not that I do any–ever–but it distracts my mind from what I really want. Rose Zaferelli.
I heave a sigh as I turn my attention to the log burner, grateful that it has been prepared and a box of matches rests on the mantel above it.
As the spark catches the paper, I relish the heat.
The stone barn conversion has a musty, damp smell that I don’t love, if I’m honest. It’s basic but charming and yet the most perfect place on earth because Rose is here.
It’s as if she cleanses my dark spirit and leaves me wanting to be a better man, and I smirk as I remember the guy I am outside of her.
If I were here with any other woman, she would be on her knees right now sucking my cock in front of this log burner.
Sex has always been an act of physical gratification for me and an outlet for my demons to be forgotten for one euphoric moment.
I have killed more men than I’ve had conversations with, a sad statistic that will probably never change.
I’m a fighter, a planner and an evil bastard and should never have been chosen for this job.
My father believes I will seduce Rose and marry her to acquire her fortune.
I’m guessing that’s the plan for me too, but I am disturbed at the realization I need her to want me too.
I run my tattooed fingers through my hair, hating the way feelings have invaded my life.
I don’t have them—ever. Only winning counts, and that’s usually by force. Rose is different, and I’m not equipped to deal with that.
She is innocent not because she is weak but because the world hasn’t broken her yet. I am the man to break her; it’s inevitable, but it doesn’t sit well with me.
I want her like any man wants a woman, but I want it to be on her terms, not mine. To make it special, to seduce for sure but not in the way my father means. To seduce her world into stepping into mine. Turn her away from God and into the arms of the devil for my own ends.
I want her as a storm requires stillness, not to break it but to savor the experience.
I sigh as the flames take hold and dance like the devil in hell; the light reminding me that I live comfortably in the fire, in the darkness even, but now I fear it burning me.
I drag myself from the fire back into the gloom of the room. I’m alone with myself, and that’s a scary place to be. Madness creeps in when I’m otherwise unoccupied, and my dreams spiral into nightmares pretty damn quickly when I allow my demons to fight.
I turn away to the kitchen, desperate for the distraction, and my heart sinks at the basic setup we have fallen into.
All we have is a working butler sink and a gas ring but not much else.
It’s so fucking freezing in here, a fridge is an unnecessary luxury.
I notice a ceramic jug with some milk and a basket of pastries and preserves along with tea bags and a small jar of coffee.
With a sigh, I fill the kettle that stands on the gas ring. No plug-in kettle here, a coffee machine only in the realm of possibilities for the future.
Somehow, I rustle up a tray of coffee and pastries and with a sigh head back to the fire, the one place that feels like home.
It’s not long before the door opens and my gaze finds Rose on autopilot.
My heart swells because, fuck me, she is a goddess, a vision in fact as she stands hesitantly in the doorway shivering in a thin cotton robe that she picked up at the store.
Her hair is damp and, as usual, her face is devoid of makeup, and she is clutching her shopping bags as if she is homeless and has nowhere to go.
“Come.” I jerk my head toward the fire. “Take a seat, and the heat will dry your hair and warm you up.”
I point to the coffee.
“It’s adequate, not the best, I’m afraid.”
Her nervous smile melts my heart as she says brightly, “I left the water in the tub.”
“Why?”
I’m surprised, and she blushes.
“Habit, I guess. We were allowed one bath every three days at the convent, and it was passed down between us. I liked it best when it was my turn to go first.”
I am stunned and say carefully, “One shared bath every three days and you want me to take you back there.”
I shake my head, and she giggles as she slips into the seat beside me.
“It’s normal. I never questioned it.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would want to live that way.”
Her hands cup the mug with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
The fire is heating her skin, and the scent of lavender fills my nostrils and as I dip closer to her wet hair, I shift, pulling a cushion between us because, fuck me, this is torture.
If she saw what I’m packing right now, she would be terrified, and I’m not talking about my gun.
I want her so fucking much it’s impossible to string a coherent sentence together.
“Tell me about the convent.”
There’s not much else to do but learn everything I can about her because, hell, all I want is to slip inside her and remain there all night long. However, that is definitely not an option right now because I’m taking this slow, no matter how tormenting it is for me.
“It’s easy.”
“It doesn’t sound easy. I mean, one bath every three days, which means one fresh one in every nine.” I shake my head as she giggles.
“As I said, it’s normal but quiet, though. There isn’t much noise to distract, which means a lot of time to think.”
“Thinking isn’t living, baby.”
“I know, but well, there is a lot to say for peace of spirit, Julius.”
“You are young. What happened in your life to cause you to retreat from it?”
I note her breath falters and she stiffens beside me.
“I told you, Canton House was hard in many ways.”
“Bullshit.”
Her soft gasp almost makes me smile, and despite my attempts to tread carefully, I revert to type and say roughly, “We all deal with shit in our lives, princess. It’s not like the storybooks for any of us, but we don’t hide from it.
You lived a privileged life compared to many others.
You had food, pretty clothes and a warm place to sleep at night.
So what if bad words were said to you and hurt your feelings?
Who cares if it hurt? They were only words designed to make you stronger.
You say your stepmother was cruel, join the club because I live with the biggest bastard on the planet, and guess what?
He raised three more. So, forgive me if I have zero fucks to give about your bad beginning because I kind of had one of those myself.
A privileged life for sure, but the price you pay for that is your soul. ”
She is shaking beside me, and my heart races when she jumps up and faces me, fury blazing in her eyes. Fuck, she is hot like this. I obviously hit a nerve because she is raging.
“How dare you judge me by your standards?”
Her breathing is fast, and her eyes flash imaginary knives.
“You know nothing about what we went through.”
“Then tell me.”
I stand to face her, and she pushes me hard against my chest, her anger evident.
“I lived not knowing if the next woman who dies in our household will be me when my father decided it was endgame. My mother killed herself rather than live with him and left me to face it alone. Alice’s mom died in mysterious circumstances.
They said it was an accident, but who believes that?
No wonder Tiffany’s mother ran away and married a man who could protect her from him, but she sacrificed her only daughter for her own freedom.
Then there is her—Morgan. The woman who appeared from nowhere and made our life hell.
Cruelty takes on many forms, Julius, and it’s not only the physical kind.
Mental torture is far more destructive because nobody can see the scars. ”
Her eyes flash as she hisses, “You say life is boring at the convent; I disagree. It’s a sanctuary.
A place to heal, to be safe and not to wait for the next verbal dagger to plunge into my heart.
I am treated with kindness, and it allows me to breathe, and so what if nothing much happens there? Excitement is overrated in my opinion.”
Before I can second guess my actions, I reach out and grasp her hair, pulling her close and as she falls against me, I wrap my arms around her slight body and hold her close to my chest, kissing the top of her head, murmuring, “Forgive me, Rose, I’m not a patient man and not very sympathetic either.
You can relax with me. I’m not here to hurt you. ”
She slumps against me, and I’m shocked when a huge sob rumbles against my chest as she breaks apart in my arms. She trembles as she lets the emotion out, and as the fire dances in the log burner, and as the lights flicker around us, I feel like the biggest bastard alive as an angel breaks apart in my arms.