Page 20 of Tainted Love

Silence.

I look around his room. It seems so different from last night. Last night, everything was mysterious and covered in dark shadows. Now, the morning sun cracks through the blinds, illuminating everything from the books stacked on the windowsill to the small layer of dust coating his shelves.

“Mr. Hart?”

I search for my clothes as my memory comes back. Wherever my shirt is, I don’t think I’ll be wearing it anytime soon. I definitely remember him ripping it open and the buttons snapping off. There’s no way I’ll ever find them all so I can pretty much assume it’s trash.

A silk, blue robe rests on the foot of the bed. I reach for it and throw it around my naked shoulders, feeling the gentle ache in my wrists. Fresh red and purple lines mark my skin where his tie bound me to the headboard. I bite my lip, forcing the memory down to keep it from exciting me too much.

I step off the bed and my feet sink into the thick carpet. As I move across the room, my sore muscles remind me of the night before. Every bend and thrust comes back to me, along with every kiss and bite of his teeth.

Where the hell is he?

I move down the stairs with silent feet on my way to the main floor. Living room. Dining room. Kitchen. He’s nowhere to be seen or heard.

Dante Hart abandoned me in his house.

What a fucking jerk.

I step down the hall, noticing that my broken glass from last night has been picked up and the mess is gone. Even the kitchen has been abandoned. Not one dirty fork or half-finished cup of coffee remains as a clue.

The front door opens and closes.

I spin around. “Mr. Hart?”

Thick steps drift down the hall toward me and I lean against the counter until he comes into view.

My heart lurches. This isn’t Dante.

I hold my robe tighter around me as the man steps into the kitchen. He’s old, but not quite elderly, with hard features and sharp, golden eyes. Black hair. Black suit.

I swallow hard. “Hello.”

He frowns. “Where’s Hart?”

I keep my robe pinched even tighter. His voice is worn and rough like gravel in his throat. “I’m not sure,” I say.

He looks down at my bare feet and his gaze slowly travels upward again. His lips curl and his expression softens to something more pleasant.

I shudder.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Lucy,” I answer, too nervous not to.

“Lucy what?”

“Vaughn.”

“Well, Lucy Vaughn, I’m Spencer. I’m a business associate of Dante’s.”

A business associate, meaning…

Ah, shit.

Another mobster.

And I’m all alone with him. Naked.

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