Page 185 of Merciless Desires

“They will be taken straight to your rooms,” the man said without looking around.

Rooms? He said rooms? As in, plural?

I hurried after him into the darkness of the hall. Instantly, the sound of my footsteps rang around the walls as my heels echoed on the polished floor. In the dim light of the chandeliers, dust floated around us, and I fell in love.

Buildings were my passion. Architects and designers, my heroes. It only took me a second after reading the contract to start researching Blackcap Hall, but astonishingly, I found nothing. I would have devoured any information I could get my hands on.

“Before we go any further,” the man said, “I need to take a few personal items from you.”

I frowned. “Personal items?”

“Yes. I need all digital devices, recording devices and your passport.”

“My passport?”

His response was to hold his face straight and his flattened palm out.

I bent down and searched through my handbag for my British passport and iPad and handed them over.

He was deadpan. “Phone.”

“What if I need to call home?”

“We’ll arrange for you to use one of ours.”

I stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t seriously want to take my phone from me? That was my lifeline. My connection to Remi, to the university, to my mum. It held all my photos, lists and eBooks.

“I have everything on my phone,” I said, my voice pleading.

“Master’s orders.” His reply was followed by a slow blink.

With much trepidation, I handed over my phone. It would only be for two or three days, tops. I could live without it for that long. In fact, I could probably do with a digital detox, and I could always fill Remi in on my newfound womanhood when back on dry mainland.

I followed the man through the cavernous entrance hall. Darkness intensified as we entered the mouth of a corridor and followed the pale flicker of sconces along both walls. Our footsteps echoed dully as we went. Eventually, we came to an archway that reached from the floor to the high ceiling. Beyond it was a winding staircase that curled upwards. I had to tip my head back slightly to take in the narrowness of the space we stood in. It reached up hundreds of metres but couldn’t have been more than ten feet in diameter. Doors punctuated every floor, each one getting darker and smaller the further up they went.

“Where are we?” My voice was breathy as we started up the loudly creaking staircase.

“The North Tower, miss. Where you’ll be staying.”

I swallowed, almost choking on my dry throat. The damp air clung to my shivering skin and the darkness shrouded any confidence I’d mustered up to that point. Now, I was, quite frankly, shitting myself. What the hell had I been thinking? I was standing in some eerie castle that was barely on a map, preparing to meet a reclusive rich man who wanted to take the virginity of a woman he didn’t know. Who else knew that was the reason I was there? Did the driver? The helicopter pilot? The guy showing me to my room? Sorry, rooms.

My cheeks heated and I focused intently on putting one foot on one step, the other foot on the next. By the time we reached halfway I was already out of breath and thankful my bags were going to find their own way to their destination.

“Not far now,” the man said, his eyes flashing at the sound of my ragged breaths.

I gripped the curling banister for extra ammunition, then the man stopped abruptly and fed a key into a door to the side of the staircase.

“After you.” He held the door open and I stepped past him into a room that couldn’t have been more starkly different to anything else I’d seen so far. Light streamed in from enormous leaded windows, silver damask wallpaper reflected the sun and the light from the imposing chandelier. An intricately carved wooden desk sat to the right, while a black velvet sofa stretched across to the left. My feet sank into thick, cosy carpet and the scents of red, pink and stone roses collided from where they overflowed from the giant vases positioned in every corner.

My heart stopped beating for a few seconds longer than I’d have liked but I couldn’t blame it. The room was breath-taking.

I twisted slowly, open-mouthed, to face the doorman, only to see the handle turn as he closed the door leaving me alone. Alone and confused. What now? I was in heaven but for how long? And where was the man who’d paid for me?

I heard a throaty cough and jumped half out of my skin. The sound drew my gaze to a doorway at the far side of the room. My feet felt suddenly heavy as I debated whether to attempt to move them or not. My heartbeat rattled in my ears, slowly obliterating all external sound.

“Come in here Rose.”

I sucked in a breath before forcing it out slowly. The voice, while commanding, sounded young. Maybe mid-twenties. Not what I’d expected at all. Why would a young guy with a deep, measured, confident voice need to pay someone for sex?

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