Page 31 of Conquered

Haunted.

Stalked.

Desired.

I longed to ask Josie or Taylor if they’d ever felt like they were being watched but I was worried what they’d think, especially after their insinuations about my new employer. I’d been certain someone had been inside my dorm room, although the only evidence that might prove me right was that the light on my desk had been turned on when I’d come back to the room. I’d been pretty positive I hadn’t left it on since I usually never did.

It was silly, really since the door had been locked just like I’d left it. Then there was the slightest scent that even now, I could swear I was able to gather a whiff of.

As if the man’s aftershave had stained my skin permanently. A cold shiver skipped down my spine as I remembered our passionate encounter. It had been so raw and dark, the man extremely possessive. And I’d loved every minute of it.

What if he had broken in? What did he want?

To own you.

The stupid little voice had a way of unnerving me. I doubted it was true anyway. What would a powerful man like Easton Saint see in a twenty-something kid? While he was the youngest of the three brothers, he was still in his late thirties or thereabouts. Not that he looked it.

He was fit in every way, every muscle on his body chiseled as if he made certain he spent hours each week in a gym. And his face was model gorgeous. I couldn’t believe I was thinking about him that way. It was… inappropriate. I wanted to laugh. Maybe so but since I’d had his cock buried deep inside of me, I guess I was allowed to think a little naughty before I officially started working with him.

I’d done my research like any diligent worker bee, making good on my promise to Mr. Saint that I was a damn good researcher. What I’d found had been speculative articles, some more fiction than truth.

I’d even laughed at a couple since the cops had no proof, or if they’d gathered any to substantiate the ridiculous rumor mill over the years, it hadn’t been enough for any prosecuting attorney, detective, or FBI agent to lay claim to. Some articles had gone back twenty years, Josie’s father a detective at the time. I had a feeling her daddy had a vendetta against the family.

But most of the disparaging articles had faded away.

What I had found was a plethora of articles on the humanitarian efforts the three brothers had engaged in over the years, giving charitable funds to a half dozen organizations. One had been a member of a nonprofit board of directors, and the arts facility they’d created catering to those in need of financial assistance had been acknowledged throughout the country.

And to put the cherry on top of the whipped cream, all three had been labeled at one point or another the most handsome, eligible bachelors in the Midwest. Given they were rich, damn good looking, and seemingly decent men, I had to wonder if all the insistence they were monsters, not men, had come from angry green monsters instead of reality.

I wanted to accept my theory without hesitation but my gut told me there was something dark and devilishly sinister about Easton. Of course I wasn’t far removed from those people I’d just made fun of since all I could base my conjecture on was my instinct.

And the fact he indulged in horror as much as I did.

I shuddered from the thoughts as I refilled several of the saltshakers, glancing at the limited crowd for the night. It was that time of year when families were helping their kids finish up school while planning for their summer events, which meant business was down. I couldn’t care less given the amount of money Easton was paying me.

In the day since I’d taken the test, I’d packed up most of my belongings, which wasn’t much, preparing to move into my new home. Well, temporary home. I needed to remind myself of that.

I wondered if a floor of private space would be enough. Of course it would. We were both adults and now that he knew the score, he would be gentlemanly enough to leave me alone.

Maybe.

As I glanced out the window again, I was certain someone was out there, but it was still bright and sunny even for a late afternoon. There was no one hovering outside, no shadowy form darting his head out from behind one of the vehicles. There was just a lot of traffic on a busy road as people headed home from work.

“Did you tell your parents yet?” Taylor said as she closed the distance to the counter, suddenly popping into the diner. She’d tried to convince me not to take the job, and instead go back to where I came from to regroup while looking for work. That’s what Mom and Dad wanted too, but this was my life and I only had so much time to forge my way in the world.

“I did. Mom tried to get me to promise to be back in September. Dad said he was proud. They’ll both bug me relentlessly.” I laughed but she still had a certain look in her eyes, the worry continuing.

“Are they coming to graduation?”

I hated the answer, something that had bothered me since I’d heard they weren’t coming during Christmas break. “They can’t.” Part of the truth was that I didn’t want them anywhere near my friends. I was too terrified they’d be recognized. That made me a bad person but I’d worked diligently to carve a life of my own away from the shadows of my uncle and nothing was going to ruin it.

I was debating whether I’d attend the pomp and circumstance at all, or merely pick up my diploma at the main administration building. I’d missed prom, my parents also not attending my high school graduation, although they’d sent my two older brothers instead. I’d already been working by the time of graduation but that hadn’t stopped the partying. At least I had a few days to decide.

So much for big family gatherings. Other than Thanksgiving and Christmas, my parents rarely took a day off. I couldn’t remember the last time they’d gone on vacation either.

“It’s shearing season. I forgot.”

“Yes, it is. Plus, Dad’s been fighting bronchitis and my mother needs to take care of him. My siblings are involved in their own lives, but they’ll have a party for me country bumpkin style when I return.” I could tell the somewhat nasty retort had gone way over her head. Being a child who drove a brand new Range Rover, the one that was sitting outside the window, she had no clue what it meant to scrape and save. My parents couldn’t afford plane tickets or a stay in a motel. I hoped to change that by getting rich with famous writing.

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