Ravensdale's Defiant Captive

He was putting an end to this before it got started.

Holly Perez was going straight to jail and he was making damn certain she wasn’t collecting two hundred pounds—or anything else of his—on the way past.

CHAPTER FOUR

HOLLY WAS HELPING Sophia by preparing the vegetables for dinner while the housekeeper had a lie-down. Not because Julius had commanded her to get to work but because Sophia clearly couldn’t do much with her wrist in a restrictive brace. Holly remembered all too well how painful a damaged limb could be. The simplest tasks were a nightmare and if you did too much it could compromise the healing process.

Besides, she quite liked cooking, for all that she’d told Julius she couldn’t boil an egg, or words to that effect. She even liked cleaning. The repetitious nature of it was somehow soothing. It had helped her many a time as a child and teenager to put some order into the chaos of her home life. Her mother had got to the point of not being able to cope with the running of the home so Holly had taken it over. From a young age she knew how to cook, clean, tidy cupboards, fold washing and iron. It had also been a way to keep her stepfather from criticising her mother for not doing things properly around the house. If the house was as perfect as Holly could make it then a day or two might pass without a showdown.

What Holly didn’t like was being ordered about. Controlled. No one was going to command her like a serf. If she chose to do something, then she would do it because it was the decent thing to do, or she wanted to do it, not because someone was trying to lord it over her.

As if Holly had summoned him with her thoughts, Julius came striding into the kitchen. ‘I want a word,’ he said. ‘In my office. Now.’

She blithely continued peeling the potato she was holding. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’ve still got the tomatoes and the courgettes to do.’

He came to the opposite side of the island bench to where she was standing and slammed his hands down on the surface, nailing her with his gaze. ‘When I issue you an order, I expect you to obey it immediately.’

Holly held his intensely sapphire gaze with an arch look. ‘Why can’t you talk to me here?’ She lowered her voice to a husky drawl. ‘Or are you worried your housekeeper will come in and catch us at it on the kitchen bench?’

His eyes went to her mouth for the briefest moment before flashing back to hers, twin flags of dull red riding high on his cheekbones. ‘I want you out of here by morning,’ he said. ‘I’m withdrawing my support for the scheme. You can find some other fool to take you on or you can go straight to jail where you belong. I don’t care.’

‘Fine.’ Holly put down the peeler, untied the apron Sophia had given her and tossed it on the bench. ‘I’ll go and pack my things. Sophia can take over here. I’ll just go and wake her from her nap and tell her. Her wrist was giving her a lot of discomfort earlier so she took a stronger painkiller. I reckon she’s been doing too much because she doesn’t want to let you down. But, hey, that’s what she’s paid for, right?’

He glanced at the half-prepared meal before reconnecting with Holly’s gaze. ‘You—’ he bit out. ‘This is one big game to you, isn’t it?’

Holly leaned over the bench so her cleavage was on show. He reared back as if the backdraft of a fire had hit him in the face. ‘You know what your trouble is, Julius? You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? It makes things a little less formal between us since we’re living together and all, don’t you think?’ She heard his teeth audibly grind together as she fluttered her eyelashes at him but she carried on regardless. ‘Your problem is you’re sexually frustrated. All that pent-up energy’s gotta have an outlet. You’re tearing strips off me when what you really want to do is tear my clothes off.’

His expression was thunderous. ‘I have never met a more audaciously wanton woman than you. You have zero shame.’

Holly gave him an impish smile. ‘Aw, how sweet of you to say so. Such flattery is music to my ears.’

He muttered a savage swear word and pushed his hair back from his forehead. It looked as if it wasn’t the first time he’d done it that evening. The thick, glossy strands were in a rumpled state of disorder. His whole body was taut, rippling with tension. He reminded her of a tightly coiled spring about to snap.

‘Here’s what you’ve got wrong about me,’ he said, facing her again with a hardened glare. ‘I can resist you. You might think all those come-on looks will make me fall on you like some hormone-driven teenager, but you’re wrong.’