Page 6 of Unravelling Nell (Fairford Affairs)

Her chest tightened at the thought, her fear like a fist around her heart. But she took a long, slow breath, letting it out through her mouth. Micah could fuck right off; no way would she let the mere memory of him ruin this for her. Time to put on her big girl panties and go inside.

Squaring her shoulders, Nell walked up the flagstone path like a soldier marching into battle. She admired the fall decorations as she went by—mums of every color, enormous pumpkins, dozens of gourds, all arranged artfully enough to belong on the cover of a magazine. But she didn’t let herself slow down. If this happened at all, it had to benow.

More pumpkins lined the wide steps up to the porch, paired with gorgeous black metal lanterns, the thick pillar candles inside already lit for the night. Nell glanced down the length of the farmer’s porch as she crossed it, taking in the assortment of rocking chairs and cushioned loveseats. This place seriously might be a dream come true.

When she pushed her way through one of the double front doors, her mouth dropped open the tiniest bit. Jesus, it was even fancier than she expected. White marble tiles with dark gray veining stretched across the entryway, gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. A wide, curved staircase waited at the other end of the lobby with a dark, polished wood banister and what looked like an antique stair runner, like something out of an old movie. Her gaze traveled up to the crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. A legit fucking crystal chandelier.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, clutching her shabby duffel bag a little closer to her side. This place screamed Aubrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. She should be wearing Dior and dripping in diamonds, not wandering into the place in her own special brand of thrift-store chic.

“Welcome, Ms. Beaumont.”

Nell shrieked, whipping toward the unknown voice with a racing heart.

“Shit, sorry!” A vested and bow-tied man in his twenties stood behind the reception desk, holding out both hands in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A blush crept up her neck to her face. “Sorry,” she said back, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I, uh...I startle really easily.” That was the understatement of the century. Compliments of her years living with Micah.

Surprises from him had never been a good thing.

She only hoped her fight-or-flight response would calm down eventually, but it was as strong now as the day she finally left that asshole. Forcing herself to smile, she crossed the marble tiles toward the front desk. The slender man behind it had a deep crease between his brows and guilt shadowing his eyes. “Really, it’s not your fault,” she assured him. “I didn’t see you there.”

That crease between his brows smoothed away, and he smiled. “I appreciate that, Ms. Beaumont. So, accidental jump scares aside, how was your trip?”

“Long,” she said, slumping theatrically. She left for the airport at five that morning and was too amped up to sleep on the plane or in the car. “But uneventful. I’m so glad to finally be here. And please, it’s Nell.”

His smile grew a little less customer service, a little more genuine. “Zach Potter. We spoke on the phone last month.”

Oh, she definitely remembered who Zach was. She’d read the acceptance letter he sent so many times the paper tore along one of the folds. “It’s good to have a face to go with the voice.” She tried to make her own smile as warm and kind as Zach’s, but she was too on edge. Where was Rafe? When was all the Dom shit going to start? Perhaps she should’ve included on her application how calm an exact schedule made her feel...and how anxiety inducing deviations to that schedule were.

Zach seemed to sense her unease, probably from the way her gaze kept flicking over toward the stairs. “Rafe is waiting for you up in your room,” he told her. “He doesn’t expect you for several more minutes, so we have plenty of time to get you checked in.”

Some of the tension left her shoulders, and she had a feeling her smile looked a little less like that of a deranged psychopath. “Thank you,” she said, trying to show him with her eyes how much she meant it. “I don’t know what I’m so nervous about. It’s not like I haven’t done this before. Probably just sleep deprivation.”

Yeah, that was a giant fucking lie. But she didn’t need other people knowing—or even guessing at—her private business.

If Zach could tell she was full of shit, he chose not to show it. Instead, he helped her get checked in, having her sign a liability agreement about the risks of unprotected sex and the various elements of BDSM, a multi-page consent form listing all the limits from her application, and finally a list of the house rules.

He gave her a moment to shoot off a final text to Mistress Freya, confirming her safe arrival at the Manor, before locking her phone in a safe under the desk. She knew coming in that any sort of recording device was banned on Manor property, and she certainly understood. Nell wouldn’t want a video of herself deep in a scene showing up on the internet. But still, she couldn’t help feeling bereft without it.

Her fingers found Dale’s card in her purse again. “I understand the whole no phones or camerasthing,” she started, “but if I need to make a call—”

“There’s a phone right here you can use anytime you want,” Zach said, gesturing toward the front desk. “Or if you need privacy, I’d be happy to let you use the phone in my office.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the open door behind him.

The knot of anxiety in her chest loosened enough for her to take a deep breath. “Perfect. Thank you.” She wasn’t stranded here. These people were nothing like Micah. Everything was on her terms now.

Her terms, her choice, her rules.

With another deep breath, she gave Zach a stronger smile and said, “I’m ready to meet Rafe now if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Your suite is right at the top of the stairs.”

Nell resisted the urge to hide her old duffel bag and cheap purse from Zach’s view as she crossed the lobby. She may not be as fancy as the other people who came here, but she refused to act ashamed. If this duffel was good enough to carry her few remaining possessions out of Micah’s house and across the country, it was good enough for Fairford fucking Manor.

Brushing her fingertips along the smooth, curving banister, Nell climbed the stairs with her back straight and her head held high. Some primal survival instinct deep inside yelled at her to run, to not go down this road again. It wasn’t worth the risk. Better to be celibate and alone for the rest of her life than to gamble on even a fraction of her history repeating itself.

But her pussy seemed to be calling the shots, cause the next thing she knew she stood in front of her suite’s door. Before she could talk herself out of it, she twisted the knob and shoved the door open, stepping inside.

Relief enveloped her whole body the moment she saw him, the feeling so intense she nearly sagged against the doorframe. He couldn’t have looked less like Micah if he actively tried.

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