Page 24 of Ruthless Legacy

“It belongs to the three of us,” he answers, carrying me into a room where there is a large black four poster bed. Looking around the room, I somehow know instantly that he sleeps in here when he comes here. He carries me straight through to a bathroom where there is a modern walk-in-shower, and he places me down on the sink unit before turning and switching the shower on.

“There are towels in there, I’ll leave some clothes out for you to change into, I’ll put them on the bed.” He gestures through to his room.

“I’m not sleeping here. I need to go home,” I tell him with a frosty glare.

He smirks. “You’ll do whatever I decide, Scarlet. If I decide to keep you up here for the next two weeks, then that is what would happen.”

I fold my arms and laugh. “Oh, really? I think my grandfather would have something to say about that.”

He cocks a brow. “Oh, he wouldn’t say anything. In fact, he’d probably encourage me.”

I frown at him. I hate it when I feel like he is insinuating something that I don’t understand or know. And honestly, I have no idea what kind of man my paternal grandfather is, so he could very well be right. He likely knows him far better than I do right now.

“I’ll be downstairs,” he tells me with a gruff bark before he stalks out of the room, leaving me alone.

I enter the shower and sigh as the warm water cascades down my body. Closing my eyes, I imagine two arms snaking round my naked waist. One heads south to my sex whilst the other cups one breast, making me shiver with pleasure. A cold sharp slap of reality hits me as I realise I am standing naked in Archer Savages shower and imagining him touching me. What the actual fuck? Have I lost my effing mind? I grab the shower gel and scrub my body vigorously, imagining I am erasing away any thoughts of Savage in any way other than him being my enemy.

I dry myself off and walk into his room to find a black designer label t-shirt laid out on the bed. Yet again I end up dressed in his clothes. Why does it feel like he is branding me in every which way possible? I use my fingers to brush through my tangled hair and then I head downstairs to seek out the devil in his lair.

I find him sitting in an armchair by the fire. He leans his arms on his thighs and he stares into the flames, looking like he is miles away from here. I clear my throat and his sharp, dark eyes snap to mine. I feel his gaze briefly drift down my body before he returns them to meet my eyes.

“I’ve made you a warm drink.” He gestures to the table beside the sofa, where a cup sits. I could kill for a brew, so with a brief nod I enter the space and, taking the cup, I sit down on the sofa and curl my legs up beneath me. When I look up, it is to find him watching me.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.” He reaches to a notepad beside him and pulls out a folded piece of paper and holds it out to me. I cock a brow and wait. “Your options for your challenge.”

I want to tell him to shove the paper where the sun doesn’t shine, but curiosity gets the better of me and I snatch it out of his hand and sit back in my seat. I open the folded white paper and read:

Option 1: Sex with each of the Aces.

Option 2: Break into the Silver mansion and steal the silver horse on the mantle piece.

Option 3: Steal the headmaster’s car and crash it into the school fountain.

I laugh. Well, option one is definitely a firm no! Now option two or three are both up my street. I am not a novice at breaking into houses. It was a little game I used to play with some guys I used to hang out with back during my stay at my third foster home. But option three calls to me like a beacon. Stealing a car is like child’s play for me. I love the rush.

“What if I decide not to take on any of the challenges?”

He half-smirks as he lifts his cup to his mouth. “Then we’ll bring the challenge to you, and you’ll lose your option to choose, and trust me Scarlet, you won’t like the challenge you’ll have forced upon you. Besides, Wilbur has insisted you are initiated, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?”

I nod my head. Something tells me he is right about not liking the other option. I fold the paper back up and place it on the table beside me. “How do I prove if I have completed the challenge?”

“If you go for option two, you’ll bring that statue to me. If you go for option three, well, we’ll see the car at school. Option one, well, I’d be a participant, so I think I’d know when that one’s done.”

I laugh at his humour. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath. I suggest if you have an itch, you get sweet George to scratch it for you.”

He licks at his bottom lip as he watches me. His eyes burn with mischief. “If I have an itch, Scarlet, I have plenty of offers available to me. I don’t need some orphan Annie to fulfil my needs.”

And there you have it. The cold sharp slap of reality to remind me he is nothing but a cold, calculating arsehole. “I want to go home.”

He arches a brow. “And where might that be? Do you even have anywhere to call home?”

I glower at him. I hate that he seems to know what buttons to press with me. We’ve barely met and yet it feels like he knows me and what makes me tick, whereas I know nothing about Archer Savage. I, however, plan to change that. I will learn what his weaknesses are, and when I need to, I’ll use them against him.

As I fall into bed that night, one person plagues my thoughts, and that is Archer Savage with his icy demeanour and God-like complex. A part of me hates him, another part of me is all too interested in who he is and what makes him tick. Do I take their challenge? Do I want to be a part of their elite yuppy group? They have made it crystal clear from my first day that they don’t want me here. What is their game? Is it sad that some part of me longs to belong, to feel a part of something, because I haven’t had that in so long?