2
She was in so much trouble. She could barely think through the fear clouding her mind. After leaving Mr. Hottie lying unconscious on the floor, she’d taken off without thought. Well, she’d had one thought, get the hell out of there. But she’d taken off in a different direction than she’d come, finding herself in a completely new wing of the castle.
Why did they need two hundred rooms and forty-two fireplaces? Okay, that was probably an exaggeration, but by the time she’d run into ten different rooms searching for a window that opened, it had felt that way.
And why did none of the windows open? They seemed to be all sealed shut. Surely that was a damn fire risk? Finally, she found one that would budge. But only a few inches.
“Come on, you stupid, motherfucking window. Open.” She had no idea how long that jerk would be out for, but she did know she didn’t want to be here when he woke up.
No, he was not going to be happy with her.
“Going somewhere?”
She froze. The window wasn’t really open enough for her to slip out. But she was almost prepared to give it a go.
“Come on, now. Surely, you’re not in such a rush that you have to leave via the window. Let me show you the door.”
Yeah, right, like she was going to fall for that offer. She wasn’t stupid.
She turned and froze at the sight that greeted her. She’d thought she was going to find Mr. Hottie standing behind her. But, now that she thought about it, that hadn’t been his voice. This voice was deeper and had a harsher quality. Almost as though the owner wasn’t used to talking that much. And looking at him now, she could well believe it.
His hair was pulled back from his face in a ponytail so she couldn’t tell exactly how long it was, only that it had to be past his shoulders. He had more facial hair than Mr. Hottie. But he looked like him. The same hair color and a similar build. Maybe a little taller and broader through the shoulders. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and a green tattoo weaved its way down his arm and over his hand. She found herself slightly mesmerized by that tattoo. Maybe it was just easier than looking into his terrifying face.
He stepped forward, and she moved away. Away from the window. Shit. That wasn’t her best move.
“I must admit when the alarm went off, I wasn’t expecting to find you, little rabbit.”
Little rabbit?
She frowned and looked up into his face. Oh, God. Mistake. Big mistake. He might look a little like the guy in the kitchen in appearance, but this man’s eyes were cold, calculating, and scary as fuck.
She swallowed so loudly she knew he could hear.
“Who sent you, little rabbit? Hmm? What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
Jesus. This guy was a freaking lunatic.
She moved along the wall. She didn’t know where she was going, she just knew she had to get away from him, there were no handy pans around for her to grab this time.
“I’m the new cook.”
He paused for a minute. “The new cook?”
What was she thinking? Why had she said that? But what else could she say? That she’d broken in looking for gold? Oh, and, by the way, she’d also knocked out a guy and left him on the pantry floor.
“We didn’t hire a cook.”
This came from a new voice. She glanced over to the doorway as a man dressed in a white shirt and dark pants stepped into the room. Unlike the wild man, this man was impeccable. Neatly shaven, his hair cut and styled, his pants ironed with a straight seam. He could have stepped out of some fancy magazine.
And he had his arm around a dazed-looking Mr. Hottie, supporting him as they both walked into the living room.
“That’s her,” Mr. Hottie said with a groan of pain. “That’s the bitch who knocked me over the head with the pan.”
She was snapped out of her silence by that bitch comment. “You had me pinned to the wall with your head between my breasts!” He deserved everything he got.
“For fucks sake,” Wild Man said in disgust.
“It’s called foreplay. I thought she was into it.”