Hell (Black Heart Romance)

Still, I wouldn’t imagine Lucian living in one of these houses. I can’t imagine him living in a neighborhood at all, really. He doesn’t strike me as somebody who would participate in the neighborhood cookout. I can’t imagine him bringing a case of beer to his buddy’s house to watch the game on a Sunday afternoon.

After several minutes, the houses start moving farther apart. Some of them are behind gates, iron fences. A few of them are so far back and half-hidden by oak trees that I can barely see them from the road. Yes, this strikes me as being more his speed, and sure enough, the driver turns the car toward an open gate and starts rolling down a gravel driveway.

He’s taking me to Lucian’s house. That’s what this has to be about. Unless I’m being loaned out to somebody else, which I guess is possible but isn’t anything Lucian warned me about before now. I wish he would have. The sense of my entire life being in his hands is not one I enjoy. I hate not knowing what’s going to come next.

But I also have no power in this situation, so all I can do is sit with my hands tightly clenched between my knees, trying to make myself stop shaking.

We pull into a large roundabout in front of a mansion that brings to mind the word obscene. It’s absolutely massive, with two wings jutting out from a central structure. It’s not tacky, though—there are pretty little shrubs and rose bushes in front, carefully trimmed hedges. He does like things a certain way, doesn’t he? Everything has to be in its place.

So, where the hell do I fit into all of this?

I don’t have to wait long to find out. The driver opens the back door and holds out a hand to me, which I take as a signal to climb out. Once that’s done, he leads me through the front door and into an entryway with an enormous iron chandelier in the center. The floors here are marble, polished until they shine, almost slippery as I trot behind the man whose name I never learned. Not that it matters. It’s not like I want to see him again.

He leads me up a sweeping staircase that curves in a semicircular shape, then down a long hallway. There are so many rooms. I wonder how many people live here. My entire apartment could fit into the entryway, easy.

At the end of the hall, there’s a pair of closed doors set in a wood-paneled wall. It’s all very masculine, for sure, but also warm. Almost comforting. I wouldn’t have expected that. The few times I’ve imagined Lucian’s life outside of the club, I always pictured him in some cold, soulless penthouse suite.

“Come in,” Lucian calls out when the man knocks on the door. Just the sound of his voice brings everything flooding back, our entire last encounter. My confusion, shame, fear.

The driver steps aside to let me into the room, which I can tell at a glance has to be Lucian’s bedroom. But it isn’t the king-sized, four-poster bed that draws my attention at first.

It’s the woman standing next to Lucian at the foot of the bed, silent as I enter.

He never once mentioned anything about adding a woman. There are a lot of things I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.

He notices my apprehension, probably because I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s older than me, probably closer to his age, and not exactly ugly but still not my preference. I guess he decides to take pity on me. “Not to worry,” he says, clasping his hands in front of him. “She’s a doctor. I brought her over to examine you.”

I don’t know whether or not I’m supposed to speak, so I decide to keep my thoughts to myself. So he wants me examined. Like he’s not sure if I’m healthy, I guess. I would get insulted, but I’m too nervous. Being around Lucian does that to me.

He’s probably thinking about what he did, what he made me do. Will he want more of that later? Why else go to the trouble of bringing me out here? He could’ve had the doctor call me into her office.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor assures me with a smile. “It won’t involve anything you haven’t been through before, I’m sure. I need you to undress for me.”

I glance toward Lucian. Either he reads my mind, or he never planned on sticking around in the first place. He leaves the room without saying anything else or even looking at me. I can hear his footfalls fading down the hall as I take off my T-shirt.

She’s right. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. First, she draws a few vials of blood—when I look surprised, she only waves a hand. “To make sure your vitamin levels are where they need to be. You do look a little sallow. Do you get enough sun?”