Page 31 of Whispered Desire

Of the five Blackchapel Bastards I’ve met, he’s the one I’ve seen the most outside of Mathias. Which is how he roped me into playing video games with him every afternoon while Mathias holed up in his home office with Luca, Hugo, and Jonah, poring over Petit Enterprises company files.

The details of what they’re searching for are a bit vague, but that’s probably for the best.

I don’t need to get more wrapped up in Mathias’s life than necessary since I’m sure he’ll eventually get bored with this thing between us. I’ve seen enough of his life at the manor to know we’re as different as humble apple pie and Michelin-starred truffles.

He grew up in this massive mansion full of expensive artwork, state-of-the-art security, and a no-nonsense housekeeper who manages the eight people who sweep in and out every day to clean and cook for the entire household.

I grew up in one small apartment after another, running from eviction notices, as my parents struggled to figure out the simple concept of not spending more money than you earn.

Sure, Mathias was also raised by an evil man bent on revenge, but a mom and dad bent on tearing each other apart and putting their kids in the middle leaves its own sort of trauma.

The point is Mathias travels on a level of society where the bar for moral integrity may be low but the bank accounts are high, and I’m just a regular girl who felt uncomfortable treating myself while in Paris.

Maybe that’s why Mathias’s brothers weren’t exactly thrilled when they first met me.

They were friendly but wary, clearly confused about my connection to Mathias. And now that they’ve overheard me pleading my case to return home, it’s obvious they’re uneasy with the entire situation. Apparently, kidnapping doesn’t sit well with a group of men raised to kill.

Who knew?

Granted, Mathias doesn’t refer to getting me out of ‘that hellhole’ as kidnapping buttomato/potato, or something like that.

“We’re not saying this is okay. Period.” I slam my thumb on one of the controller buttons to send my race car surging forward. “Mathias is being stubborn, so it’s a matter of waiting him out. He’ll come to his senses eventually.”

Rafe snorts. “You don’t know Mathias.”

I groan as his black car cuts me off on the huge television screen. “That’s the point. Besides, I don’t know what he expects me to do around here. I can’t play video games with you all day.”

“You have two million dollars in your bank account,” a familiar voice calls. Mathias stands straight and tall in the doorway with a bottle of water in his hand. “Do something with it. Plus, you’ve got movies, games, a pool. Think of it as an extended vacation.”

“One I have to take against my will.”

He shrugs as if to say ‘I don’t know what to tell you’ before changing the subject. “Did you eat lunch?”

“Yes, mother. She ate a chicken quesadilla with me before we started playing,” Rafe interjects, rolling his eyes at Mathias’s mother henning.

“Good.” Mathias pins me with a look of approval that brings heat to my cheeks, sets the water in front of me, then stalks back to his office. One of his many check-ins officially completed.

As I turn back to the game, embarrassed by my immediate response to his one word of praise, I contemplate my future.

Am I willing to go back to North Carolina and start fresh? Yes, of course.

I’ve recovered from my minor breakdown, which honestly happened at least once a month with Bailey. It took that long for everything I bottled up to explode into a blubbering, hopeless mess. But now I’ve had my release, and I’m good to go.

Don’t think about releases!The prudish voice of an old Sunday school teacher screeches in my head.

But it's already too late. The memory of Mathias’s hard body grinding against mine, his thick fingers stroking me from the inside out. It sends more heat traveling lower to settle between my thighs as ghost sensations prickle along my skin.

Every morning, I wake to a mood boosting orgasm, thanks to his talented hands, and I can only imagine what his tongue or cock…

Ugh, no!

More unwelcome,inconvenientthoughts.

I refuse to let hormones cloud my judgment when I get enough of that with my imbalanced brain chemistry.

The point is I'm ready to forget my minor lapse of independence. I’m perfectly capable of handling my affairs by myself.

Mathias knows it.

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