Page 4 of Colton
I open the door to my room, stepping inside the sanctuary that is both my refuge and my prison. The heavy curtains are drawn, blocking out the moon’s faint glow. I cross the room, the carpet muffling my footsteps, and flop down on the bed. My back protests, and I grit my teeth, cursing myself for forgetting the welts on my back. But then I force myself to endure it, relishing the sharp sting as blood oozes through my shirt and onto my sheets. I smile, tears stinging my eyes as I stretch my skin, forcing the wounds to open further.
But then, a thought cuts through the darkness—Mary. The new maid. The one whomightbe different. And with that, a tiny spark of something unnamed flickers to life within me.
I close my eyes, letting the darkness take me. Tomorrow, I will meet her, and I will see if she is different. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll have some fun with her.
Chapter 3
Luella
I’ve been here for an hour, and I still can’t believe my plan is working. I glance around the luxurious study, taking in the over-sized leather armchairs positioned by the ornate fireplace, the thick heavy drapes that line the sash windows, and the solid oak desk before the largest window.
How the other half live, I think, staring down at my cleaning caddy. It’s got the usual stuff—polish, antibacterial spray, wipes, glass cleaner and cloths. I have to look the part and that means cleaning. Properly. I don’t want to be dismissed before I’ve even begun.
The place looks relatively tidy, but the open windows have allowed dust to settle on everything, meaning I need to polish it all back to its former glory. I purse my lips and move to the desk, eyeing the door just in case someone passes by. I know Xavier Blackwood and his son are in the house, along with a chef and a handful of guards.
I pull open the desk drawer using the golden handle, frowning when I see it’s empty. I hardly expected to find evidence of his sickness in a desk drawer, but to be bare? I didn’t expect that.
Suddenly my ears prick up, and I close the drawer, twisting to focus on the ornaments adorning the desk. A paperweight in the shape of a naked woman—how fucking apt. My stomach churns as I polish her breasts, apologizing like she can feel it. God knows I should take the damn thing with me. Why should he have this after what he’s done?
But then I sense him, like a darkness hovering at the doorway, reminding me of when I was a kid and I used to close my eyes and pretend to be asleep when the darkness came. I’ve gotten good at sensing predators, but I play dumb and don’t turn around until he speaks.
His presence weighs heavily in the room, and I haven’t even seen him yet. He’s watching me, thinking he’s got the upper hand. If he comes into the room, I’ll hear him, and I can prepare myself for his disgusting attempts at seducing me.
Urgh.
But then I put the naked paperweight back, vowing to take her with me when I leave this place in ashes.
And I will leave this place in ashes.
I hear his arms crossing, the tell-tale sound of fabric crinkling and him adjusting his weight.
I swallow.
This isn’t Xavier.
“Well, well, well,” a voice purrs from the doorway, confirming my thoughts. “You must be the new maid.”
I whirl around from the cabinet I’m polishing, palm spread against my chest like he’s surprised me. My heart thumps like crazy, and I meet the man behind the voice.
He’s so tall, he grazes the top of the doorframe, tilting his head so his dark curls frame his perfectly sculpted face. His bone structure is incredible, all sharp edges and high cheekbones. But it’s his eyes that capture my attention, and I’m unable to lookaway. They’re a deep steely gray, but darkness swirls around the pupil, making it hard to see where it starts and ends.
I swallow as his gaze rakes over me, taking in my leggings and baggy T-shirt. I should feel self-conscious beneath such a gaze, but he’s so brazen about it, I don’t. He tilts his head like a predator, and I realize that’s exactly what he is—the devil disguised as an angel.
“Yes, I’m Mary.”
His lips curl as he lets out a low whistle, his eyes never leaving mine. “Mary...like the Virgin? I wonder how long you’ll stay pure in this house.” He smirks, as if testing me, watching for the slightest crack in my expression. His voice…it’s making my insides twist with desire, and I hate that. I don’t have time for men, especially not men who look like he does. And he's the son of a monster, no doubt one himself.
Get on with your job.
I give him what I hope is a sweet smile and chuckle graciously. “Exactly like that.”
He holds my gaze. “I’m?—”
The bastard’s son.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m here to do a job, so if you wouldn’t mind?” I gesture to the door, hoping he gets the message. Men like him want timid girls. Girls who fear them. Not girls like me.
“That was rude,” he comments from the doorway. “I was only trying to introduce myself.”
