Chapter 6 #2
inspection, it appears to be fashioned from fabric and metal. There’s a fine steel grille over his nose and mouth, enough
to obscure his features while allowing him to speak, and to breathe—pity! Half of his right eyebrow is missing, a patch of
mottled olive skin in its place.
“It’s beautiful, sir,” I say, adopting the same title that Pierre used for him. There’s no time like the present to start
pleasing him and earning his trust.
He takes a few steps closer and his black military-style boots squeak on the wooden floor.
I resist the instinct to step back because I assume he’s here to inspect his property, and I refuse to be intimidated.
He has his hands stuffed into his black cargo pants, exposing his tattooed forearms. I don’t know why his tattoos surprise me so much, but there was no hint of them when I first met him.
Dressed in his finely tailored suit, he looked sharp and clean-cut.
Not that tattoos alone would make him not so, but everything about his appearance is the opposite of that now.
He also has a large hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and the watch he wears appears to be very high-tech.
In fact, I’m sure it’s also a cell phone.
One of my grandfather’s drivers had something very similar—a smartwatch, he called it.
It would make sense for Lincoln to have one, as I haven’t seen any kind of phone in the house, cell or otherwise.
He wears a tight-fitted black T-shirt that appears to barely contain his muscles, making all of him seem much bigger, intimidating. I see why they call him a devil.
“It was here when I bought the house, as were most of the books.” His eyes narrow on my face, so dark and intense that it
makes a thrill of something shoot through me. I can’t quite identify the sensation, but oddly enough, it’s not fear. Lincoln
Knight is dark and brooding and intense, but I’m not afraid of him. Not yet anyway. “You may use it as you please.”
That makes me want to very inappropriately throw my arms around his neck in gratitude. I adore reading, but was permitted
very few books as a child, and even as an adult. My battered and worn copy of The Secret Garden was one of my most prized possessions and I hated leaving it behind. Of course I don’t hug him because that would not only
be wildly inappropriate but also bizarre. I’m not a natural hugger, at least I never thought I was. I can count on my fingers
the number of hugs I’ve had in my life, at least that I can recall. I like to imagine my parents hugged me multiple times
a day, and maybe that’s where this innate desire to hug comes from. But I don’t hug Lincoln Knight. Even though, very strangely,
I want to, all of my conditioning warns me against it. Instead I mumble a very polite thank-you.
He tilts his head to the side, scrutinizing me. His meticulous gaze raking over every inch of my flesh. Is this where he carries
me off to his bed? Or will he simply take my virginity right here on the floor of his beautiful library.
I push away all thoughts of hugging and gratitude, and instead steel myself for his unwelcome touch. My skin itches. I want
to scratch and fidget under the heat of his eyes, but I don’t. Part of me wishes that he would just do it, if only to get
it over with. Because maybe then he’ll let me go back to being alone, and even better, to escaping into one of these books.
Perhaps he has a copy of The Secret Garden hidden amongst these shelves.
His rich brown eyes never stray from me even for a fraction of a heartbeat.
Why is he staring at me like that, and what the hell is he waiting for?
Is this some kind of test? I take a calming breath and recall what Larissa taught me.
Show no emotion, because emotion is weakness and he will use it against you.
Be passive and obedient. Most importantly, make yourself useful to him.
Useful people are less dispensable. Useful people survive.
“Is there something I can do for you, sir?”
His brow furrows in a slight frown and my pulse spikes. He takes a half step closer and his scent invades my senses. Sharp
and clean yet familiar, like fresh soap mixed with leather. “I’m leaving for a few days. Pierre will tend to your needs while
I’m gone. If you should need any additional clothing or incidentals, then let him know and I will make arrangements to get
them.” He sounds detached, but there’s something else too. An edge to his voice that makes shivers race up and down my spine.
But he’s leaving! It’ll just be me alone here with his butler. Does that mean I have a few days of freedom? I’m tempted to
ask exactly how long a few days will be and where he’s going, but dare not for fear of provoking his anger. Curiosity killed the cat, Imogen. Don’t ask questions. If people want you to have information, they will offer it. So, instead, I simply say, “Enjoy your trip, sir.”
He grunts something unintelligible before turning and walking out of the library. As the heavy doors close behind him, I spin
around and mentally clap my hands with glee. Me and this library for a few days. Now this is a slice of happiness I definitely
wasn’t expecting, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.