She frowned, glanced at the others. Her gaze lingered on Penny for the briefest moment before coming back to me.
“I want to go home. You can’t keep me here forever.”
“Yes, I can. Now stop being a child and get back inside.”
Her jaw clenched.
That was the wrong thing to say.
She started to tip the wheelbarrow.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t care about the priceless artifacts. Objects were replaceable, money was unlimited, and frankly, I agreed with Winter. We had too many precious things lying around cluttering up our home. If I had my way, we’d burn the lot and start over.
Except my mother loved the antiques, and my sisters had some foolish notion about keeping my mother happy, and so the crap must stay.
And beyond all that, this was a provocation, an attack on my dignity and honor.
It had to be answered.
I sprinted at her.
This whole stunt was foolish. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would piss me off. And as I charged her like a mad rhinoceros, I realized that maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she wanted.
Too late. I crashed into her from the side and tackled her into the pool.
The wheelbarrow tipped. The books dumped. I couldn’t save them.
We slammed into the water together. She struggled and thrashed. My suit was soaked—another few thousand dollars down the drain, not that it mattered—and Winter was doing her best to drown us both.
I kicked hard and got to the surface. She gasped for breath, her hair matted and soaked, her lips pulled back in a snarl. We grappled, and I managed to hold her against my body, pulling her tight and pinning her arms at the side as I treaded water. I was a strong swimmer and twice her size.
She glared pure hate. It was glorious. I felt her breasts against my chest.
“Let me go,” she said softly, her tone a lion’s snarl.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I didn’t break any of your precious rules.” Her glare turned to a victorious smirk. “Are you going to lock me in your basement anyway?”
My lips were inches from hers. Beneath us, down at the bottom of the pool, priceless books and other assorted artifacts grew fat with chlorinated water.
“I’ll tie you to your bed and use you as a plaything. Or maybe you’d enjoy walking around my bedroom on all fours, my perfect little pet.”
Her eyes widened a touch as she moved closer. Her plump, pink lips brushed against my own and her voice was pitched low and soft enough that only I could hear.
“How would your family feel about that? Taking your captive by force.”
My hands gripped her lower back tighter. “I don’t think I’d need to do much convincing.” But my eyes drifted to the others, still standing and staring. Penny was livid, Erin was bored, and Anthony was loving every second of this. The rest of the staff ranged from horrified to scared to death.
“I’d make you work for every single inch you took from me.” She sounded so quiet and so fierce, and I felt myself stiffen in response, unable to help it. Her body was soft against mine and I could almost taste her lips, and the water dripping from her hair sent wild chills of desire down my spine.
“Good. It’s no fun without the fight.” I release her and kicked away. “Now get out of this damn pool.” I swam to the shallow end and walked up the stairs, water running off my suit in heavy rivulets. I pointed at a group of huddled staff members gaping nearby. “You three, get in there and pull out all that shit. Save what you can, donate or trash the rest.” I pointed at Winter’s guards. “You two, escort our guest to her room. Ensure she doesn’t leave for the remainder of the day.”
“Lock me away,” Winter called out, “but I won’t make this easy.”
I set my jaw and ignored her.
Damn right she wouldn’t. I expected nothing less.
Penny strode after me and caught up before I reached the house.
“What was that?”
“A tantrum.” I stomped my feet. My shoes were fucking ruined. Six-hundred-dollar handmade Italian leather. I’d really liked them.
“No, not that. The pool. It looked like you were about to kiss her.”
“Don’t be stupid. She’s a tool.”
Penny grabbed my arm. “Be careful. Don’t cross any lines.”
I pushed her hand away. “I don’t rape women, but thank you for the vote of confidence.”
She said nothing as I strode into the house, squishing along the carpeted floor. Mother would be livid about all this, but what could she do?
Winter was not to be harmed. Unless I ordered it.
And maybe I should.
Maybe that was what she wanted.
5
Darren
The conference room in Servant Manor used to be the small ballroom. When my father was still alive, he’d decided the house didn’t need three big, empty, dance-floor-filled monstrosities and had everything ripped out and replaced with modern conveniences. The fireplace remained, along with some of the original mirrors and lighting details, but otherwise it was completely transformed.