Dangerous Temptation (Dark Dream 1)

It was a room out of a fairy tale, a calm, feminine oasis in the otherwise masculine doom and gloom of the larger house.

Despite myself, I loved it.

Walcott laughed lightly at my slack-jawed reaction. “I’m glad it meets with your approval. I aired it out the last few days, but a bit of that unused musk might remain, so feel free to open the window over there by the vanity. The hinge sticks a bit, but most things in this pile of rocks need a little tender loving care, so don’t be alarmed. Just give it a little jostle and it will open right up.”

As he spoke, I shucked my stained Converse and walked over the pale blue, gold, and cream carpet, wiggling my toes in the plush ply. My fingers found the velvet of the footboard, rubbing the softness between my fingers.

A lump formed in my throat, surprising me. It was strange to get emotional about a carpet or a headboard, but they represented so much more than material items.

When I was little, I’d known luxury. Mom had been obsessed with labels and Dad filled our home with them from the clothes in our closets to the car in our driveway. We had a big house with a big yard in a posh neighborhood filled with commuters to the city and their trophy wives.

When I’d asked my dad for a pony for Christmas when I was four, one had appeared in our driveway with a great pink bow around its neck.

Then, they’d found us.

The Morellis.

The family that hated Dad with every fiber of their being.

And they would stop at nothing to end each other.

Even if it meant targeting Dad’s bastard children.

I could still remember the cold, triumphant grin on the Morelli thug’s face when he’d cornered me on the playground at my elementary school and tried to convince me he was a friend of my father’s and that I should go with him.

I could still remember what happened when I refused.

A shiver ripped through me as I stopped in my new room, hardly aware of Walcott asking me if he should start a fire in the mammoth fireplace for me.

Dad had moved us to Texas after that, far away from the home state of his enemies and from him. We’d seen him less and less over the years.

Losing the ridiculous wealth was nothing to me.

Losing time with my dad was everything.

And then, five years ago, both were gone entirely.

The headboard under my fingers, the carpet beneath my feet both brought those memories crashing back to the forefront of my mind, leaving me aching and hollow with all kinds of grief.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to admit I’d live on the streets if it meant I could have my parents back.

Instead, I had this opulent bedroom, a baby brother who counted on me for everything, and a new guardian I trusted about as much as I’d trust Satan himself.

A long, weary sigh escaped my mouth.

“Miss Belcante,” Walcott asked, stepping in front of my vacant stare to get my attention. “Are you alright?”

Before I could answer, Tiernan’s dark velvet voice entered the room. “She’s fine. You’re dismissed, Walcott.”

Walcott had no discernable reaction to the impolite dismissal, flashing me a little smile as he turned to leave. He shut the door behind him.

Tiernan locked it with a flick of his wrist, then leaned against the paneled door and glowered at me with his arms crossed. The diamonds at his cuffs winked cruelly at me.

“That was rude,” I pointed out, casually moving to the other end of the room from him as if I were interested in the gossamer curtains and not interested in getting as far away from his dangerous magnetism as I possibly could.

He didn’t reply.

In fact, he was utterly silent and still as I moved from one window to another, fingering the expensive curtains, peering out the old, rippled glass to the stark autumn grounds below. A crow sat on one pointed end of the iron fence around the property, his beady eyes following me from pane to pane.

Even he wasn’t as disconcerting as the animal in the room with me.

Finally, I turned to face him, crossing my own arms over my breasts and affecting the same lean as he did but against the vanity.

“Can I help you?” I snapped, irritated and tired and beneath it all so sad I didn’t even think a good cry would release the sorrow in my bones.

“I was just thinking exactly that,” he finally said, raising his right thumb to rub it across his plush lower lip in that way he had that made my mouth go dry and other, secret, parts of me go wet. “Unfortunately, I doubt you have the ability to live up to my expectations, let alone exceed them.”

“Good thing I don’t give a crap about your expectations,” I said with a pretty grin. “Everything I do, I do for my brother. Whatever is left? That’s for me and me alone.”