Page 13 of Dr. Danger

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath.

Darren’s eyes soften, and a small, barely there smile touches his lips. “Morning, little heiress,” he replies, his voice rough.

We kiss, and it's like everything else fades away. His lips are warm and insistent, and I lose myself in him, forgetting about the world outside our small, intimate bubble. But eventually, reality seeps back in, and I pull away, reluctantly.

"I should get dressed," I murmur, slipping out of bed, because if I stay in that bed I might end up pregnant at the tender age of nineteen. I find a dress and start to put it on when there's a knock at the door. Before I can respond, Malva bursts in, her cheerful voice filling the room.

”Morning, my bestie,” she twitters, then stops short, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of Darren lounging in my bed as if he has every right to be there.

Malva's face falls, her cheery demeanor vanishing. Darren raises an eyebrow condescendingly, and the tension in the room spikes.

”What’s he doing here?" Malva spits, her tone sharp as if Darren’s sporting horns and waving a pointy tail around.

I feel stuck between them, the air thick with my maid’s judgment. "Mal," I say softly, "I wish you’d waited for a reply before barging in like that."

”Aha!” Her eyes narrow, and I can see the hurt and anger in her expression. "So, now there are rules, are there?” she snaps, clearly upset. ”There never used to be any rules before.” She sets the tray down with a thud. ”Eat your breakfast."

Darren's voice cuts through the room like a knife. ”I don’t like your attitude. You will watch how you speak to her.”

Malva’s eyes flash with anger, and she's about to retort when Darren stands up, his presence looming and intimidating. "If you have something to say, say it," he challenges, his tone cold and unyielding.

I gasp, feeling a shiver down my spine. I’ve never been so torn. Or turned on for that matter.

For a moment, Malva looks like she might bark at him, but then she thinks better of it. She shoots Darren an infuriated glare before slipping out of the room, her shoulders stiff with indignation.

The door clicks shut behind her, and the tension slowly dissipates. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and turn to Darren.

”Don’t be too hard on her," I say, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. "She means well, but..."

”I don’t care what she means,” Darren cuts me off, his expression softening slightly. "You need to set boundaries. She can’t keep crossing them around you like that.”

I nod, knowing he's right but still feeling the sting of Malva's disappointment. ”You’re probably right," I whisper, meeting his gaze.

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. ”Always am," he says, his voice softer than I've ever heard it.

Clasping my chin, he presses his lips again mine and my knees turn to jelly, my mind spinning worse than a fairy tale spindle. He’s starting to mean a lot to me. More than…anybody else in the house. The thought terrifies me a little but it’s still true. Before I only had Malva, the staff, but now I have him.

Darren murmurs something about needing to get home and change, but he promises he'll be back later. A thrill runs through me at the thought of him returning, and we make our way downstairs together. The air between us crackles, our hands brushing occasionally, each touch sending sparks up my arm.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I glance up at him, a soft smile playing on my lips. Darren looks down at me, his eyes very green and very intense, and I feel a hunger in my body. I think this man is going to be my husband one day, I really do and it’s not just because I’m crushing. But because I sense it…deep in my womb.

I shift when the butler suddenly steps forward, his expression unreadable. "Miss Weston, Mr. Crutch is here. He's waiting for you in the sitting room.”

Oh, I totally forgot about him!

Darren's jaw tightens, a flash of jealousy darkening his eyes. "Mr. Crutch?" he asks, his voice sharp. ”Let me guess. Yet another man you let walk in and out of your house however he pleases?"

I shake my head quickly, placing a hand on his arm. ”No. He's—"

But Darren pulls away from me, his expression hardening as he strides purposefully towards the sitting room. Panic rises in me; the last thing I want is Darren making a scene in front of Mr. Crutch. "Darren, wait," I call after him, but he ignores me.

He storms into the sitting room, and I hurry to follow, my heart pounding. "Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?" Darren demands to know, his voice thundering off the walls.

Mr. Crutch, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a calm demeanor, looks up from his papers, clearly startled. "I beg your pardon?" he says, adjusting his glasses.

I rush in, placing myself between Darren and Mr. Crutch. "Darren, stop. He’s my lawyer. He's here to go over my inheritance."

Darren's eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think he's going to argue. But then he takes a step back, his expression dumbstruck. "Your inheritance?" he repeats.

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