Page 19 of Owned By her Enemy
Rapunzel: Me too. There was something about today, though. A magic.
Yeah. She’s right.
I can’t even remember the last time I was so relaxed. I wonder if she’s thinking this day is special because she’s escaped Tottenham Tower, is outside of London, or at the beach. Or whether she has realised that this isus.
Surely she can see the difference? She had weeks of wedding planning when she was free to come and go and buy herself anything she wanted.
She doesn’t make a new video, but I hear the faint melody as she listens to the one we took today. When I glance out at her, she’s looking away. Putting aside her phone, she shivers.
A thread of discomfort rubs at me. Is it a betrayal to pretend to be someone else? Just her friend when I want so much more.
Her shiver doesn’t last long. Along with toasted cheese sandwiches, a bowl of brightly coloured salad with plenty of the good stuff, and a plate of chocolate truffles, I bring out a furry cream blanket slung over my arm.
I wrap it over her shoulders before flicking her nose, softening the affection with playfulness. “Can’t let you get cold, can we.”
She leans into me, so I pull her onto the wooden bench to sit beside me at the table, just touching. It’s so casual. Natural. I can’t tell if she feels the warmth emanating between us.
I make no apology for the simple food, and I don’t suggest we go inside. Lotte eats the greasy food ravenously.
As we eat, I tell her about beaches I’ve been to that I think she’ll like when I take her—Thailand, Croatia, Chile, and South Africa—and her eyes go dreamy as she listens. I try to describe what I imagine: the long sand stretching away, the sun, the waves. The two of us, together. That I’ll take her to these places, and she’ll stare at the distant horizon, stained with a pink and blue sunset, and we’ll be a couple.
And that’s when I see a flicker of something dark in her eyes. I’m reminded that to her, this is an arranged mafia marriage, and she is a prize of war.
When the food is nothing but buttery streaks and coco powder on the plates, and the limp bits of lettuce left in the bowl, I bring out hot mugs of tea and the conversation lapses into relaxed pauses.
She holds out, but eventually rests her head on my shoulder. And I enjoy her trust far too much, stroking her hair.
“Come on. Sleep time,” I say into her ear.
“Yes. Yes, right.” She stumbles and shakes a bit. “Let’s go in.”
Inside the house she seems okay, but when I approach her after closing the massive glass sliding doors, she’s frozen.
Like she can’t move for fear of what I might do. Or not do.
Oh shit.
I restrain a sigh of frustration. We’re back to square one.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa if you’d be more comfortable,” I say, coming to a stop before her where she stands in the middle of the lounge. “There’s no hurry.”
“Nik, you said if I begged…”
My eyebrows raise. This is a sudden turn around.
“I want you. Please.” She reaches out and grabs my shirt, pulling herself in. For a second, I don’t move. This is so nearly right, so almost what I crave.
Every atom in my body is demanding that I just take this at face value. Even as I can’t resist, as my arms come up to encompass her, kiss her, holding the nape of her neck and stroking my tongue hungrily on hers. She tastes sweet and heady. I’m high on this kiss and the heat that has shimmered between us all day flares arousal right into my cock.
I retain just enough sanity to draw back and look into her eyes. There’s doubt there, but desire too, and she nods. Touching our foreheads together, I breathe in her strawberries and vanilla scent. I’m helpless to resist her.
“I promised if you begged, and I’m a man of my word. Come.”
On the stairs, the air is a little stale, and she tenses. Probably just because this house isn’t lived in all the time. Her breathing goes erratic, but as we step into the bedroom, and she sees the open full-length windows leading to a balcony, it evens out again.
The room is shrouded in shadows and lit by moonlight, and I release her to let her explore. The massive bed to one side, an expanse of shimmering carpet, and beside a discreet wall that presumably leads to an en suite, there’s a freestanding bath, roll-topped, pointing to view the ocean.
I flick on a light and settle on the edge of the bed, watching.
