Page 57 of Daughter of a Monster

Without thinking, I press my hands against his firm chest and push. It barely moves him, but he shakes his head in disbelief, as though he can’t quite fathom what I did.

“You shoved me,” he says with indignation.

“I did.” I emphasize the words with another shove.

He allows me to push him back a step, a wicked smirk twisting his lips. “Don’t provoke me, Miss Berkley.”

I shove him again. “Why not? Is it because I’ll awaken the beast, the animal that can’t be controlled?” I laugh, arousing his ire.

Breath snorts through his nostrils. His eyes are wild and dark. They dart between mine and my chest feels as if it’s going to explode with the intensity of it all. Without warning his hands snap to my wrists, dragging them over my head and he pushes me against the wall. The length of him covers the length of me, smothering me with his hardened body.

“I’ve warned you, Miss Berkley. Don’t provoke me.”

“Or what?”

I’m sick of this back and forth. I’m sick of the unknown, the teasing, the paranoia. I press against him, relishing the sensation it sends through my body. I shudder as his scent invades me. It does something to me and I twist and grind against him.

He lowers his head, growling in my ear as his erection presses into my belly. “One day I will tie you up, your hands above your head, just like this.” He jerks my hands further up the wall, his fingers tight around my wrists. “And I will tease you.” His breath is hot on my skin. “Touch you.” One hand stays to secure my wrists while the other runs down my arm, leaving my skin tingling in its wake and my body trembling with need. “Taste you.” His jaw rubs over me roughly, scratching my cheek with his stubble until he catches my mouth with his own, kissing me, devouring me, consuming me. “And will not let you go until you stay still under my touch. Maybe then you’ll feel a fraction of what I do.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he tears himself away, storming off down the hall, leaving me to watch. I’m left breathless, my heart pounding, my skin covered in the faintest prickling of sweat. Even watching him walk away sends shivers of desire through me.

I’m trapped, pressed to the ground by his body drilling into mine. His hand covers my mouth, distorting the whimpers and moans that escape my lips. The ground is damp beneath me. The sky is blue above. The sensation of his hardness is more than I can bear. I arch my back, pushing against him even as he holds me down, my desire welling, threatening to explode.

I shake my head, pulling myself out of the vision and focus on Jericho’s retreating back. I want to chase after him, confront him. But instead, I wait until he’s no longer in sight and his footsteps have long faded. If anything is going to tell me if Jericho is in cahoots with my father, I’m going to discover it in his office. And now is the perfect opportunity to find it.

chapter nineteen

BERKLEY

His office is ridiculously organized, which somehow makes it harder to find anything. I open drawers and scan the contents, searching for any hint this man is connected to my father. Nothing stands out. There are files on the profitability of businesses I’ve never heard of, countless pages of printed spreadsheets, their numbers meaning as much to me as a foreign language. But finally, at the bottom of a drawer, thrown in almost like an afterthought, I open a file, my name, my true name jumping out at me from the messily hand-scrawled notes.

Notes from my therapist. Notes that show my deepest secrets, my darkest thoughts. Ones that record my flashes, my fears and all the difficulties I had once the news came out about my father in alarming detail. Notes that no one should have access to.

I slump to the chair, the truth of what it all means seeping into my bloodstream.

He knows everything about who I am.

Gideon was right. Teaching Ette to dance was just a ruse. I keep scanning the documents, my heart dropping just that little bit more with every tidbit that gets exposed. Observations on my mother. Arrangements he made to make sure I came here. Truth that he hid.

With a racing heart, I switch on the screens positioned over his desk. All the red lights turn green. The monitors flicker as they come to life, each screen split into four, showing a different room in the Sanctuary. Surveillance cameras. There are rooms I’ve never seen. Plain. Barely furnished. Cells.

I grip the edge of the desk. My skin starts to tingle.

He’s just like my father.

Quickly, I scan the other monitors. The kitchen. The dining room where I danced for him. The stairwells, the ballroom, even the dance studio. But the one that creates that swell of nausea is the one focused on my room.

He’s been watching me.

Fear grips, its tentacles wrapping around my heart like a vice.

I need to leave.

Again.

I must run and I’ve got to do it before he finds out that I know the truth. I’ve been too willing to stay, once again too enamored with the life I’m living to question the cost. Shoving the file under my arm, I look up to find Jericho standing in the doorway, glaring at me.

“What the fuck have you done?” he growls, stalking forward.

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