Page 15 of Dangerous

Blaine grunted and shoved off the fridge so he could make his way toward the French doors between the kitchen and the hallway. “You say you’ve not been involved in this world for a while. Let’s keep it that way.”

I stared after him as he sauntered out of the room, but quickly averted my gaze when he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing his tattooed and perfectly muscled back. There was absolutely no need to see anymore of Blaine naked. Not after what had happened in that blasted hotel room.

“I’m grabbing a shower. My room’s the big one on the first floor. Pick any of the others for yourself, and do whatever the fuck you want to the rest of the house,” he called as he disappeared around the corner. The sound of his steps made it obvious that he was headed up the large staircase I’d seen when we came in through the front door.

Great. I looked around the large kitchen while pointedly ignoring the offensive list on the fridge. The house seemed about as warm and inviting as my new husband—no decorative touches lit up the bare surfaces and stainless steel appliances.

Not that I really wanted Blaine to be “warm and inviting,”no siree. My cheeks flushed hotly at the memories I’d been doing my best to suppress all day. Thanks to the hefty amounts of alcohol in my system, I didn’t have a fully intact recollection of what exactly had happened between us, but my brain didn’t spare me many details from the actual sex. The hot, sweaty, and ridiculously good sex.

Not that I’d been able to live in ignorance, even if my brain wasn’t such a dick. Every muscle in my body hurt, like I’d been worked over good and thorough, leaving a lazy sort of ache not only in my limbs but also in the kind of places whiskey just didn’t get you sore.

It had taken all I had not to limp in front of Blaine or his “men.” It was bad enough I’d had the biggest lapse in judgment of all time—I wasn’t about to boost the jerk’s ego any further by acknowledging how stupidly well-endowed he was.

Not that he didn’t already know. Logging around a cock the size of a damn water bottle was not something a man as arrogant as Blaine would be ignorant about.

Goddammit! And here I was, obsessing about the damn thing when I should be busy either having a nervous breakdown or figuring out a plan as to how to get out of this nightmare of an arranged marriage. Just great!

I spent most of the afternoon exploring my new home, partly to keep my mind off any further unsavory thoughts of Blaine.

I had thought this was Blaine’s house, but when I walked around, I saw that every room was only sparsely decorated with the necessities, and a few of them had unopened moving boxes scattered around. Seemed like we were both new occupants.

The house itself turned out to be gorgeous and absolutely huge. It was an Edwardian-style townhouse located off a quiet street, but during my initial explorations I counted six bedrooms, five living rooms, a library, and a couple of smaller, empty rooms that would likely make good offices or playrooms. I didn’t count that many bathrooms, but most of the bedrooms seemed to be en-suite.

Crime had to be paying more than well for the Steels, because this house would have been so expensive it could have fed an African village for a decade.

I picked one of the smaller bedrooms located on the top floor. It wasn’t the grandest of spaces, but it was plenty big enough for me, and it had a window bench with a great view over the lush back yard. Whoever had lived here before, they’d hired a superb landscaper.

After dragging my suitcase upstairs, I collapsed on the already made bed for a power nap, too physically and emotionally drained to even get undressed.

When I wokeup again it was dark outside, and my hangover seemed more or less on the retreat.

I lay in the darkness for a bit and let my mind settle in for the first time since my family found me.

And as I did, I felt myself finally start to relax a bit. Yes, the worst had happened, but I was still alive. They hadn’t killed me, and as I’d realized last night in my drunken stupor, my new marriage meant that I was free of them. I might have been dragged back into the criminal underworld, but I wasn’t a teenager anymore. And, dangerous as he might be, Blaine didn’t seem like he would physically harm me. In fact, I’d kicked at him and he hadn’t raised his hand in retaliation. Not really, anyway.

I flushed at the hazy memory of his hand smacking down between my legs. I probably should be outraged, now that alcohol wasn’t fogging over my brain, but all I could muster was embarrassment—and a hot stab of desire.

No, the only physical danger I was in from Blaine was my own body’s mutiny every time he got near me. Pure, carnal attraction I should be able to ignore.

Which meant it was time to face my fears and realize that I wasn’t helpless anymore. I had been for the last week, locked up like a sacrificial lamb, but that was over now.

I hugged myself close and breathed deeply, repeating that phrase in my head again and again until an inkling of belief took root in my mind.

I was a grown woman now, not an abused child, and I had years of training in dealing with the human psyche. If I could help my patients, then I could help myself.

I can’t say that calmness took over me as I lay there, but more a certain sense of determination that allowed me to focus like I hadn’t been able to since my family found me. If I wanted out of this, then I could find my way with calm planning.

Blaine would no doubt stop me from leaving. Now that we were legally married, it would be an insult to his honor if his wife up and abandoned him. His reputation would suffer, and I knew all too well that honor was everything to men like him.

I briefly touched a hand to my midsection on top of my shirt. I couldn’t feel the scars through the fabric, but I knew they were there. Ugly reminders of just how important honor was to men in this business.

But would he chase me down if I got away? I highly doubted it. Once I was out of London, the damage would have already been done, and I was under no illusion that he would grieve my departure. He and his family would be in their full right to cancel any business arrangements they’d made with my father, and likely also demand compensation, so as long as I figured out a way out of the city, Blaine wouldn’t be a problem.

But my own family would.

Just the thought of my father’s anger made me clench my hands in the blankets to stop them from shaking. If they found me after I’d cost them money and reputation, they would kill me. End of story.

When I ran away the first time, I’d been nothing more than a useless daughter, and I was pretty sure no one had spent much time looking for me. I’d like to think that maybe my mother had at least called around to my classmates, but who knew? It was always about the business, and I’d… I’d not been of any help there.

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