Page 12 of Darkest Sin

“No breakfast this morning. Just a coffee will be fine.”

“Coming right up.”

I end the call and finish getting myself ready for the day, dreading the long hours ahead before I finally get to crash, but unfortunately, a lack of sleep is simply a hazard of the job.

Making my way out of my bedroom, I pass the closed door that my latest mystery soundlessly sleeps behind, and considering the sedatives that were slipped into the glass of water on her bedside table, she should sleep for most of the day, assuming she was brave enough to drink it, of course.

Either way, I’ve offered her the privacy of a closed door in a luxurious bedroom with a private bathroom, and that’s far more than she would have received in Ezekiel’s warehouse. She should be quite happy here, and if she’s not . . . then that’s not my problem. She will have to figure out a way to find happiness here, otherwise, she will lead a very dull and lonely life.

Ignoring the lure of her creamy thighs, I head down the stairs and detour past the kitchen before scooping up my steaming coffee off the edge of the counter.

Krista has worked as my personal chef for a little over twelve years now—after I found her in a similar situation to Chiara. She was too young, and there was never an attraction there for me, so instead of offering her my bed, I gave her my kitchen and she flourished there, and now, I can’t imagine having anyone else working my kitchen. She’s got it down to a fine art, and I fear the day she decides to move on. Don’t get me wrong, she is free. I don’t hold her to the same bounds as I do my new prize. Krista is an employee and can walk away at any point, just like the rest of my staff, and despite knowing exactly who I am and what I’m capable of, she sticks around, not out of fear, but out of loyalty.

Lifting my coffee to my lips, I take a quick sip before letting out a heavy breath and striding through my home. I make my way into the formal dining room and find my staff waiting for me, all but a few of my main security team who would have stayed at their posts, patrolling my property for potential threats. I take my security very seriously and have the best of the best. My security detail is made up of ex-military special ops members, former champion MMA fighters, and the kind of men you wouldn’t want to run into in a back alley. They make a deadly team, and yet not one of them is more deadly than me.

Moving around the dining table, I survey my staff, watching how they all straighten and offer me every bit of their attention as I snake my way to the head of the table.

Everyone is here. My housekeeper. Rohan, my doorman. My personal butler. The maids and the groundskeepers. They all remain standing, knowing they all have duties to attend to and that I don’t usually waste any time.

“Some of you may have noticed that we currently have a woman occupying the private suite on the second floor,” I start as I settle at the top of the table, not bothering to take a seat. “She is my guest and is to be treated with the utmost respect, just as you would anyone else who steps foot inside my home. Not a single hand is to be laid on her, or any wandering eyes feasting upon her beauty. She has already been through enough, and I wish for her to find comfort within my home.”

My gaze subtly meets Krista’s across the formal dining table, and when her lips press into a hard line and her gaze fills with pity, I know she understands exactly what kind of life I have stolen this woman from. And let’s be clear when I say stolen, Krista knows exactly what that means. After all, I stole her just as I did Chiara, and hopefully as she begins to find solace in my home, she will be able to connect with Krista and the two of them can heal together, or in the least, offer the other some kind of friendship.

Focusing back on the many faces around my table, I continue with my expectations. “I have granted her full access to my estate, including the outdoor facilities. However, it is imperative that I be made aware of her daily movements. Until I know she can be trusted, she is to be watched like a hawk. I need to know her whereabouts at all times of the day, and it is to be noted that she is not permitted to step even a foot outside my estate without my approval. Is that understood?”

Everybody nods their head, and I turn my attention back to my personal chef. “Krista, I trust you will find some time in your day to meet with our new guest and discuss her dietary requirements.”

“Of course, Sir,” she responds with a subtle drop of her chin. “Anything else she requires for her stay? Clothes? Prescriptions? Electronics? Toiletries?”

“No electronics,” I state firmly. “As for clothes and toiletries, yes. Please see to it that her closet is fully stocked. She will be staying indefinitely, so be sure to provide clothing for all seasons and occasions. Stock her bathroom with basic necessities to get her started, and when she wakes and is feeling up to it, you can ask her about her preferred brands.”

“Yes, Sir,” Krista says with another nod.

Digging my hand into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and fish for my credit card when Rohan’s tone sails through the dining room. “Her name, Sir? What shall we refer to her as?”

I blindly hand my credit card to Krista, and she takes it without question, being one of the only members of my staff I trust with it. “Her name is not important,” I say, choosing to keep them in the dark. After all, the less they know, the better. However, considering the strict level of professionalism and how it directly stands against my requirements to show respect to my guests, I relent and offer an alternative. “You may refer to her as ma’am, and nothing more until further notice.”

Rohan nods in acknowledgment, and to be honest, out of all of my staff, Krista and Rohan are probably the only ones my new prize will have to deal with. The rest are to be seen and not heard. However, if she wishes to make friends with them down the line, then I suppose that will be okay.

“Are there any questions?”

“Sir,” one of my security team pipes. “What are your expectations security-wise? Does she require a shadow, someone stationed outside her door? Or will the security footage surveillance be satisfactory?”

I consider his question, trying to figure out exactly what I want. On one hand, I want her comfortable here, and having some ex-con stationed outside her bedroom door isn’t going to help with that. On the other hand, I don’t know anything about this girl. I don’t know her capabilities or her intentions, and until I can look her in the eye and read exactly what she’s thinking, I have to play it safe.

Unsure how to answer it just yet, I meet his waiting stare. “Let me get back to you on that. I need to look further into her history before making an informed decision on how to move forward. Expect a response before lunch.”

He nods. “I’ll let my head of security know to expect your instructions.”

“Good,” I say before looking back at everyone else. “Unless there are any further questions, this meeting is adjourned. Please get back to your posts in a timely manner.”

With that, the dining room quickly empties until I’m left with just Krista’s heavy stare on me. I arch a brow, waiting to hear what she needs. She lets out a heavy breath, and her lips flinch in the corners as if she’s trying to be brave. “Trafficking?” she asks in a small tone.

I hold her stare a moment longer. She’s usually not so bold when it comes to the details of my house guests. She tends to turn a blind eye, knowing exactly what kind of company I keep, but she can tell that this one is different. It hits harder and because of the respect I hold for her and the challenges she’s had to overcome, I won’t disrespect her by lying about it now. “Yes.”

Krista nods, and as she slips my credit card into the back pocket of her jeans, she forces a smile across her face. “You’re a good man, Killian. You did the right thing,” she tells me, reaching out and squeezing my arm. “I’ll do everything I can to help her feel at home.”

I nod, and without another word, Krista is gone.

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