Page 44 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

I open my mouth to say something, but I don't know what to say, so I clamp my lips back together again.

No one’s been to his house before? That can't be true. Itisn'ttrue. I just met Vera. I open my mouth to point that out, but Vincent shoots me a look that makes my voice die in my throat.

"Eat your food, Julieanne." He watches me, almost like he's daring me to continue this conversation.

But the longer I sit here and think about it, the less I know what to say. I always pictured Vincent as sort of a loner, but not lonely, and now I'm wondering if I was wrong. And if I was, what exactly does it mean that he's brought me here? Let me into his world.

I go back to my omelet, even though my throat is tight and an almost overwhelming amount of sadness makes it difficult to chew. He's been telling me what an asshole he is, but I never believed it, because he's not. But what if other people don't see what I see? What if they take him at face value? What if no one ever tried to get closer to him? Close enough to see the truth?

I manage to finish off my omelet and as soon as my plate’s clear, Vincent collects it, adding it to the dishwasher along with our empty juice glasses. It’s odd to just sit here while he cleans up the mess, but it’s his house and I have no idea where anything is, so I just stay put.

Once he’s set the washer to run and the counters are wiped down, he comes to my side, resting one hand on my back. “Come on. It’s time for you to sleep.”

“But it’s morning.” A yawn slips free, dragged loose by the mention of sleep. I managed to doze on the flight here, but I think that was more of a passing out situation thanks to a combination of adrenaline crash and post orgasm paralysis.

Vincent’s hand presses on my back, urging me out of the seat. “And you’ve had a very long night. You need to sleep and I need to get some work done.”

I finally slide to the floor. The socks he slipped onto my feet at the airport keep my toes from pressing against the tile as we walk to his bedroom, but I can still feel the texture through the cotton. “You had a very long night too.”

“I’m used to long nights, Jules. You’re not.” He doesn’t point out that I’m not used to shooting people either, but I can tell from the flat line of his lips he’s thinking it.

“How long will you be gone?” I’m not worried about being here alone. I just don’t know how much I want him to not be with me.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Vincent leads me back into his room. “I’ll be down the hall in my office.”

The curtains are still drawn and the room is just as dark as it would be at night, making me yawn again. “I thought you said there was no Internet?”

“No. I saidyouwouldn’t have any internet.” Instead of taking me to the bed, he directs me through another door. I step in as he flicks on the lights to reveal an absolutely gorgeous bathroom. Sunshine streams through two skylights in the ceiling, adding to the glow of the backlit mirrors over the double vanity. I stop in my tracks, staring at the matching sinks and mirrors.

“Vincent—”

“No more questions, Jules.” His hand slowly slides away from my body as he steps around the glass panel partitioning off a shower lined in natural stone. “Take a shower. Put on some fresh clothes. And go to bed.” He switches on the water, holding one hand under the spray. He must be satisfied, because he steps out and starts to leave. Pausing beside me, his eyes hold mine, and for a split second I think he’s going to kiss me. But then his posture stiffens and he’s gone, leaving me alone in his space.

I guess I can kinda see why no one’s managed to get close enough to earn an invite to his house. Vincent is not easy to read and his resting asshole face probably scares the shit out of most people. But that’s because they don’t know how to make him smile.

I do.

Which is why I’m the one smiling as I peel the clothes I borrowed from his closet off from my body and step into his shower. Then I wash with his products and dry off with his towel before pulling on more of his clothes. Then I lay down in his bed. In his house. That no one’s ever seen but me.

And Vera. But I’m kinda glad he’s had her. It makes my heart hurt less thinking of how very alone he’s been.

I roll over and find myself in a spot that smells just like him. It’s not even in the middle of the bed. It’s all the way on one side. It makes me just as sad as that lonely second sink in his bathroom did.

Vincent might be alone, but he’s not a loner. A loner would only have one sink. They would sleep in the middle of their bed, enjoying the space. And they sure as shit wouldn’t have brought me here. I would have been dumped in some hotel somewhere so he could keep living his life without the hassle of me invading his solitude.

Burrowing deeper into the Vincent-scented blankets, I smile again. Because Vincent might actually be an ass, but he’s not an ass to me.

And I’m only here because he wants me here.

WHEN I WAKE up,it's impossible to tell what time it is. The giant curtains are great in a lot of ways, but they are really going to make it difficult to gauge whether I'm sleeping late or not. Then again, Alaska in general might make that difficult. Don't they have entire days of sun and entire days of darkness?

I’ll ask Vincent. He loves it so much when I ask him questions. I slide out of bed, smirking to myself, a little excited to find him and give him a hard time. Tease him just a little.

Taunt him a lot.

After remaking his bed, I move out into the hall. And that's when I hear it. Music.

It's not at all what I would have expected, but it's beautiful. I don't know what I would have guessed Vincent'staste to be, but mournful, somber piano instrumentals wasn't it. There's no sign of Vera as I pass through the kitchen, so I have to assume it’s still just me and him in the house.

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