Page 4 of Bought By the Owner's Son
Kirk watches me wide-eyed, his mouth open like a fish trapped on dry land. I turn from him in dismissal and climb down from the stage, walking out of the huge chapel. The guard standing beside the huge column of the entryway steps aside to let me pass.
“Mr. Devereaux,” he says with a sharp nod.
“Marcus,” I reply with a brisk nod, not changing my stride. He falls into step beside me and opens the door as I get to the main entrance. “Thanks.”
I head out into the night, the darkness pulling me into its embrace. Light from the chapel reflects dimly into the parking lot, and I make a beeline for my black SUV. She stirs softly in my arms just as I reach the car. Opening the passenger door and gently placing her in the seat, I strap her in with the seat belt. Then I round the car and take a seat beside her.
She moans softly, and I watch her blink her eyes open and slowly take in her new surroundings. Her eyes meet mine in the dark confines of the car.
“Don’t be scared,” I assure her softly. “My name is Lucian Devereaux. What’s your name?”
“Elena,” she says, her voice hoarse.
Her brows bunch and her eyes stay unwavering on mine. “Where are you taking me?” she asks weakly.
I can’t help it. I reach out and tenderly stroke her black hair. “Don’t worry, angel. You’re safe now,” I whisper into the quiet car. “We’re going home.”
I know I can’t let her go.
Chapter Three
Elena
“Hmm…” I moan softly, slowly coming awake.
I roll over on soft sheets, feeling small and lost in the luxuriously large bed. Gradually, I open my eyes, and the first thing I notice is the absence of ache in my head as I take in the brightly lit room. I push myself upright, shifting until my back presses against the headboard, and I look around, my eyes widening in surprise. The bedroom is bigger than any I’ve ever been in. An image of my apartment, basically a cardboard box with barely enough room to fit in a small closet and a twin bed, flashes in my mind.
I let my gaze move around the bare room. Except for the feather-like queen-sized bed and the luxurious furniture, the room has an impersonal feel. Just like its owner.
With that thought, the events of last night flood my mind—the cold-eyed stranger who swept me off my feet, and how strange it is that I feel safe with him.
Lucian Devereaux.
Not only did he catch me when I lost consciousness, he made a public declaration that I belonged to him. I also remember that he brought in a doctor to check me out the moment we arrived in his mansion, though I must have fallen asleep shortly after that.
Despite the gaps in my memory, I know a dangerous man when I see one. Yet I find myself wanting to get closer to him.
I wonder what it’d be like to see him laugh. Would his piercing blue eyes brighten up and crinkle at the sides just like they do in my imagination?Unlikely.
He’s difficult to read—a man whose face is set in stone. I shouldn’t fantasize about him, but I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach at the thought of him. His mere presence sets my heart racing and my body burning with a need I don’t fully comprehend.
What about him affects me so much?
Sure, he’s handsome—and more than that. He’s Adonis in the flesh. A freaking god. Any woman would fall for that gorgeous face and perfectly sculpted body, right?
Even one with half a brain who doesn’t remember how she got into this mess.
I let out a sigh, struggling against the void opening up in my chest. I’m safe now, and that’s all that matters. Still, something tells me I shouldn’t let my guard down. Lucian Devereaux is a consuming fire, and if I’m not careful, I’ll soon be engulfed in his flames.
Exhaling softly, I push the soft, white sheet off my body. I need to get it together and focus on regaining my memories. I don’t have the luxury of fantasizing about a devilishly handsome man who’s obviously way out of my league. I frown down at the white shirt covering my body.
“Did he…?”
Heat flushes my cheeks at the thought of Lucian changing my clothes. Still, I suppose it’s better than waking up in that obscene dress I was made to wear last night.
I push off the bed, the smooth hardwood floor cool against my bare feet. As I walk out of the room, my mind wanders, and I find myself in another large room that adjoins the bedroom. It’s a bit livelier than the bedroom, with three dark couches arranged around an exquisite glass table, and art displayed on the cream-painted walls.
My gaze catches on a particular piece—a landscape with rolling hills and green fields. There’s nothing truly spectacular about it, except for the sharp brushstrokes and bold details that make it stand out.
