Page 44 of The Devil's Pawn

“Yes, I know. I looked into them.”

My heart trips over itself. Oh, no. No, no, no. “And what did you find?”

“They seem an interesting outfit. It’s not often that businesses balance profit targets with improving the world we live in.” He wipes his mouth on a napkin.

Phew. He doesn’t know about the job offer, and he’s also unwittingly presented the perfect opener for me. “Speaking of businesses, I was wondering if there might be a position for me somewhere within one of your companies?”

“You?” He drops the napkin. “No.”

I curl my hands into fists. “That’s it? No?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Clenching my jaw so tight my teeth hurt, I grit out, “That isn’t a reason.”

“It’s the only reason you’re going to get.” Standing, he looks me squarely in the eye. “And I will need that card back.”

I stab my fork into a piece of bacon, my brief spark of hope dying before it ever had a chance to live. “What would I do with it, anyway?”

Alone, and with my appetite waning, I force down one egg and half-finish my coffee, then head back to my rooms. I remove his credit card from my nightstand, and I’m halfway to the door to take it to him when I stop myself. Screw him. If he wants the damn card, he can come and get it himself. I’m not his servant.

Hunger drove me to the dining room before I’d taken a shower, so I toss the card on the freshly made bed—Maisie must have been in here while I was at breakfast—and strip. Setting the water to scalding, I stand beneath the powerful spray and tip back my head. My one chance, and he stomped all over it before giving it any consideration.

He can’t be the kind of Neanderthal who thinks women should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. For one thing, Saskia works, and for another, there isn’t the slightest chance of me getting pregnant other than by immaculate conception. So, why won’t he let me take a job? What harm can it do?

If he thinks that’s the end of it, he’s sorely mistaken. I will raise it again. And again. And again. Perhaps this could be my new tactic to annoy him. Keep on and on and on until he’s so over my nagging, he finally does what needs to be done.

At least ten minutes must pass before I step out of the shower. The mirror above the sink is all steamed up, and I curse. I forgot to turn the heated light on. Swiping a handover it, I nearly leap out of my skin. Reflected back at me, arms crossed over his broad chest, is Alexander, his amber eyes aflame with interest.

I snatch a towel off the rail and wrap it around myself. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t walk in here unannounced.”

He doesn’t move, just continues staring at me with those enchanting eyes. “Oh, I can, Little Pawn. You see, I own this house, and I own you. Therefore, I can go anywhere I like.” He hesitates, lazily running his gaze over me. “And do anything I like.”

A swallow forces its way down my throat. This is it. He’s finally decided to take what he believes belongs to him. My heartbeats triple their pace, and my abdomen is in knots, but there’s that violent pulse between my legs again, and I can’t deny that part of me any longer.

It doesn’t matter that I can’t stop him. I don’t want to stop him. I want this. Him. Us. I want to know what it’s like to have a man inside me. It’s just sex. I don’t have to make it about anything more than that. Many of my friends from college had multiple partners. They didn’t make a big deal of it, and I don’t have to, either.

“You don’t own this house,” I rasp in a voice that sounds nothing like my own. “Your father does.”

“Wrong.” He takes a step toward me, but the bathroom is huge, so he’s still several feet away. He licks his lips, and I can’t help pressing my thighs together. There’s something about Alexander that’s both dangerous and irresistible. He’s like a roaring fire tempting me to put my hand into the flames. I know it’ll burn, but the pull is too strong to resist.

“Every asset in the estate is owned by the De Vil Dynasty, the company my ancestors formed long ago. My siblings andmy father all have an equal share. So, my sweet wife, I do own this house.” He lowers his gaze to my chest. “Drop the towel.”

Despite knowing this is what he came for, and my traitorous body jumping up and down with glee, my rebellious brain is still in charge for now.

“No.”

He takes another step. “Drop. The. Towel, Imogen. I won’t ask again.”

A hint of impatience is usually present when he speaks, and this time is no different. My mind races at a million miles an hour. What’s changed? Why now? He’s shown such little interest in me sexually, even though I know he finds me attractive. Is my body sending out some pheromone signals or something that he’s picked up on?

My fingers tremble as I give the towel a single tug. It drops to the floor. Alexander’s breathing changes, shortening, like he’s thundered up a flight of stairs and is slightly winded. I lift my gaze to his, but he’s not looking at my face. A blush creeps over my neck and up to my cheeks, and still he doesn’t touch me. I may be inexperienced, but I’m not an idiot. He wants me desperately.

An urge to test the theory comes over me. Gently, I cup my breasts, squeezing them together. I brush my thumbs over my nipples, sucking in a sharp breath as I do. His eyes flare, his pupils dilating as he watches me touch myself. I’m tempted to lie down on the bathroom floor and spread my legs, if only to see what he’ll do.

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