Page 14 of Forbidden Pawn

I shrug. “Probably not. But I’d still prefer not to be disturbed. I didn’t exactly plan for you being here, and I don’t intend to adjust my plans to your presence.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “You didn’t expect me to be here? But you asked for me!”

Does she look disappointed about that? No, that can’t be. She must be kidding.

“I tried to put a gun to your brothers’ heads and make them pay,” I explain. “I never expected them to just hand you over like that.”

She looks at me with an unreadable expression, the wheel behind her head turning, but I don’t know in what direction.

“So, you really just need the money,” she says, her voice and pensive. “And you thought you’d get paid yesterday.”

Why does she seem so surprised at that? Did she really think I wanted her rather than the money I’m owed?

“Of course,” I say. “I’m sorry, if that comes as a disappointment to you.”

She frowns at me. “Why do you think I’m disappointed?”

“Just a thought,” I respond, and I don’t know why, but I add a little wink to my words, which makes her blush.

Well, look at that. My little pawn has just become even more interesting to me than I ever thought possible. She may bite like a tiny puppy, but it looks like that’s nothing more than a defense mechanism. She’s not immune to my charm, on the contrary.

Chapter 9

June

I hate the effect he has on me. He’s just a good-looking man. Okay, an incredibly handsome man, with mesmerizing eyes that have this inexplicable allure, a pull that feels almost magnetic. It’s hard for me to look away every time our eyes meet. It feels like there’s a secret hidden in the depth of his dark gaze that is worth retrieving. I’m drawn to it like a moth to the flame — and I hate it.

After breakfast, he gave me a quick tour of the house, showing me the living room next to the kitchen and the dining area on the first floor. The library he mentioned earlier is in a room next to the living room that looks more like a parlor, with a few bookshelves on the walls. I noticed there’s another door next to the bookshelves, leading further to the side of the house. But before I could have a closer look, he took me back upstairs, pointing down the hall to show me where his office and his bedroom are.

“Both are off limits for you,” he said then. “Do you understand? Especially my office. I never want to see you in there.”

I nodded, trying to feign the good and obedient girl he wants me to be.

But, of course, I won’t behave. That’s the room I need to get into. That’s the room that holds all the info I need to destroy him.

His phone rang shortly after he said that, and he threw me a quick look before answering it. His eyes were glued to me while he listened to whatever the caller was telling him. A line emergedbetween his brows, and he turned around and walked down the corridor to his office, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Now I’m standing here, unsure what to do. I feel icky and would love to take a proper shower, but I still have nothing to wash myself with. Maybe he took my toiletries and my e-reader to send a message? To degrade me, to keep me in my place. He can’t possibly think I would actually smuggle some poison in there, or whatever else he was afraid of.

I stare down the hall while I contemplate what to do next. He didn't tell me to go back to my room, and he didn't lock me up in there.

What a mistake.

This might be my chance to explore. His office might be the most promising place to find dirt on him, but that doesn't mean the rest of the house doesn't hold its own secrets for me to discover.

I forget about my desire to take a much needed shower and make my way down the stairs. I'm moving slowly and as quietly as possible, my ears pricked up as I listen for any sounds coming from upstairs. He's still in his office, the door still locked, it seems.

I walk back to the dining area, noticing the remnants of our breakfast on the dining table. For a moment, I consider clearing the table, if only out of habit. I hate messes, but after living with Tracey for almost a year, I had to get used to it. I’ve never cleaned up her mess, and I will definitely not be Ryker’s maid. I have better things to do.

I make my way over to the living room. There’s not much to it, other than an enormous TV with an elegant living room suite upholstered with creme colored fabric and a dark coffee table. A matching cabinet is pushed against the wall next to it, and I’m instantly drawn to it.

I listen for any noises coming from upstairs, before I make a few cautious steps toward the cabinet. It comprises three drawers on top and two cabinet doors underneath. I pull out the first drawer as quietly as possible, holding my breath. But there’s nothing in it other than a few tea candles and a lighter. Disappointed, I check the other two, only to find that there’s absolutely nothing in them.

I hesitate before I open the cabinet doors, but there’s nothing interesting behind them either. Just a bunch of cables and remote controls that probably belong to the TV set or the Hi-Fi system.

I let out a heavy sigh and close the cabinet again. My plan was to move to the library next, but as I turn around, my attention gets drawn to the large windows that lead out to the garden at the back of the house. I remember seeing those gardens from my room this morning, and despite my mission, my curiosity arouses, when I realize that the French doors next to the dining area lead right out into the gardens. I hesitate for a moment before I push the doors open and step outside into the midmorning sun.

The garden shows signs of former elegance, but it’s faded. The layout includes a central circular path encircling a dormant stone fountain, its basin filled with fallen leaves that might still be leftover from last fall. Tall foxgloves lean over the paths, their majestic spikes of purple and white flowers untrimmed and sprawling. Peonies with heavy, drooping heads crowd against a neglected trellis and a row of rhododendrons at the perimeter has become dense and wild, obscuring what once might have been a clear view from the house.

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