Page 60 of The Madman and his broken Princess
“Oh. But now I’m here, and I’m sure he wants to share dinner with me.”
She nodded jerkily. “Okay. I’ll let the kitchen know. When do you want to have dinner?”
I wasn’t sure when Nestore would be home. I didn’t have his number. I didn’t even have a cell phone. “As soon as he’s back.”
“Of course.” She smiled shakily. “Would you like something to drink?”
Why not. “Could you bring me a glass of the red wine my husband always drinks?”
“It’ll be with you shortly.” She backed away, then slid out of the room noiselessly.
I sucked in a deep breath. This entire place, even the staff, felt like it was straight out of a horror movie. I blew out the breath and squared my shoulders. I made a beeline for the two leather armchairs in front of the massive black marble fireplace and curled up in one, then opened the book.
The maid appeared beside me, making me jump.
“I’m sorry. The Master prefers us to move silently.”
“Well, I prefer not to be scared to death,” I said with a smile that softened my words.
She bobbed her head quickly, then put down the wineglass on the small marble coffee table between the armchairs.
“What’s your name?”
“Mindy,” she said, then rushed back out as if the prospect of small talk terrified her.
I took a deep sip of the wine, then relaxed against the soft leather. Age had softened the firm material. These two chairs, like the rest of the furniture, had already been in this place when my father and our family had moved in. Maybe they were from Nestore’s childhood, and that was the reason he couldn’t part with them. I opened the book and began reading the introduction, an overview of the history of rose cultivation.
The clock struck eight o’clock when a shadow moved past the open dining room door. I had left it open so I would see Nestore walking past.
After a moment, the shadow materialized before the door. Nestore stepped into the dim light of the dining room. I put down the book on the coffee table and rose to my feet.
He froze mid-step when he spotted me. His eyes scanned my dress, brows snatching together. The look on his face wasn’t one I had hoped for. It was hard to describe, on the verge of haunted. He shook his head as he stalked toward me.
“Don’t,” he rasped.
I frowned up at him in confusion. “Don’t what?”
He took my hand and pulled me closer, then began to tug at my clothes almost desperately. Eventually, the dress came off and pooled at my feet. My underwear, too, was red, and he stripped me out of it as well. I was speechless. Of course, I’d hoped this evening would end with my clothes on the floor, but not like this.
Nestore cradled my face, his eyes pleading.
“Never wear red again, Amelia. I saw too much red on your skin.”
Remembering how often I had been covered in blood, mostly Nestore’s, I shuddered and understood his aversion to the color.
“Wear white. Only white.”
I nodded. I touched his chest, feeling his heart race under my palms. “Only white,” I promised in a whisper, feeling his heart slow.
“I just thought…” I trailed off.
His eyes left my face, traveling the length of my naked body. He looked almost dazed when he met my gaze again. Desire filled his eyes and kindled my own.
“Are you mine alone?” I asked, terrified of the answer. Nestore had promised me the world when we had been locked in the basement. He had promised me his firsts.
Nestore’s brows puckered as if he didn’t understand the question. His fingers on my face tightened. “I searched for you for eight hundred and one days, Amelia. I dreamed about you every night. I almost went mad when I thought I wouldn’t find you, so what makes you think I haven’t always been yours alone?”
I shrugged. “You were with other women. Maybe you think you can punish me by continuing to do so even when we’re married.”
