Page 29 of Whispered Desire

Employees who make mistakes? I wish I could shake sense into them.

Peers who ignore my advice? I’d like to force them to listen and heed my words.

But that’s not acceptable behavior in a businessman. In anyone really.

No one likes to be told what to do. Least of all me.

So, I tamp down the instinct that wants me to shout “I know what’s best for you,” breathe a sigh of relief when people’s decisions work out, and bite my tongue when they don’t.

Until Allison.

She gave me free rein over her life yesterday.

She agreed to let me take care of her and do what’s in her best interest.

She did it gratefully. Willingly. Beautifully.

And I won’t let her take it back.

That's the cold, hard,logicaltruth.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ALLISON

The grandfather clock in the corner of the library chimes ominously.Once. Twice. Three times.A vestige of the past, and an integral part of Blackchapel Manor’s gothic atmosphere.

Despite the modern conveniences, an underlying hum of a bygone era emanates from the old brick and dark woods that characterize the manor.

If I wasn’t so fixated on my current circumstances, I’d explore its many rooms and halls, eager to stumble upon secret passages and hidden alcoves.

One. Two. Three.

3:00 P.M.

Hours since I scurried from Mathias’s bed to my own, then wandered around until I found this shelf-lined room. Camped out on a window seat, I’ve been staring at dormant garden hedges as if they hold the answers to my problems.

A stranger appeared on my doorstep and whisked me away to his den of danger. He fed me. Held me. And I reveled in his skilled touch this morning. Like we were more than a woman recovering from a near mental breakdown and a man who inexplicably chose to take her under his villainous wing.

“You don’t know that he’s a villain,” I mumble to myself in the ensuing quiet, the sonorous signals of the time resting until the next hour.

Except he and his brothers are targets of an entire criminal organization.

One Mathias is determined to burn to the ground after being trained to kill.

“There you are. Someone is here to see you.” Mathias strides into the library and offers his hand like a gentleman of old. From the tailored suit to his well-coiffed hair—strands of silver beginning to shine at the temples—a classic sort of charm limns his muscular form, belying the contemporary edge of danger that clings to him.

Reluctantly, I place my hand in his and follow him through a maze of corridors.

“I don’t know anyone in Boston.” Our footsteps are muffled by yards of carpet runners, yet I wonder if he heard me when there’s no response.

We stop in front of my bedroom, and Mathias knocks once before opening the door. An older woman stands alert and waiting by the heavy oak dresser. A large leather bag hangs from her gathered hands.

“Hello, you must be Allison. I’m Dr. Bellamy.”

Mathias gently pushes me forward when I stumble to a halt. “Dr. Bellamy is here for a health workup. She’ll also be administering your birth control.”

Birth control!

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