I sigh wearily, pressing my fingers to my temples.
“I’ll need to ensure that it’s up to your living standards,” I state coolly.
“Since when do you know about my standards, Mr. Lewis?” she hisses.
“It’s my responsibility.”
She scoffs and shoots me a piercing glare.
“Oh, right. I almost forgot. You’re the most responsible man in the world. You know just how to handle business. I’ll leave it to you, then.”
Her sarcasm is spot on. She sends a message that’s impossible to miss. I give her a light nod without attempting to coax her. Her attitude toward me has turned
for the worse, and there is no one to blame but myself. I don’t want to provoke her and get into a fight in the car. Or at all.
Ever.
Hopefully someday she’ll get over it.
Chapter 9
NATALIE
I nhaling deeply, I allow the arid summer evening breeze to brush my face.
Mr. Wilson’s party was boring like any other high-profile gathering. My cheeks are sore from maintaining a fake smile for hours. If it weren’t for Mason’s appearance, I would have been bored to death as I waited for it to end while Derik went on with his usual business.
Standing on the balcony, I impassively watch the fountain in the courtyard.
The water dances with the lights in synchronicity–lively and peaceful at the same time.
How nice would it have been if I’d had a sibling? Maybe I wouldn’t have to live under a fascist like Derik Lewis. In fact, I might not even have to live my life on a track I’m not particularly interested in.
I bite my tongue.
I don’t know how long I’m standing there before I feel it start to drizzle. To be able to enjoy the rain without a flood of anxiety is rare for me. I find it strange that I feel sanctified as I stand there, allowing the downpour to soothe my body, envisioning each droplet washing away my worries.
It’s a little past midnight when I stir from my trance. I take a quick shower and slip into my nightgown, then decide to make a cup of tea to help me sleep. I silently make my way across the dim-lit hallway only to realize that the first floor is completely dark. I am not a scaredy-cat, but I feel a surge of anxiety spring through me when I step off the grand staircase onto the cold tile floor.
I press my hand to my chest, trying to calm my nerves. There couldn’t possibly be a burglar, Derik has the place locked down with security.
This villa is where I grew up, and I’ve always felt safe and at home…why am I so sketched out? Has it become haunted over the years?
I want to laugh at myself as I realize that my mind is getting the best of me.
Before I can take another step, a tingle dances down my spine and the hair on the nape of my neck stands needle straight. The silence is deafening, but I can feel someone’s gaze holding me captive.
I blink a few times to adjust my vision. The faint light coming through the large glass windows emanates through the living room, and I can barely make out the silhouette of a large figure seated on the couch.
“What the fuck?!” I shriek in surprise as the masculine form unveils before me. I clutch my chest to calm down and control my voice.
It’s Derik, looking as handsome and aloof as ever. He’s still in the black suit he wore to the party. His features are vague but with his slight movement, I’m able to make out the icy grin on his mouth where the light scarcely touches his face. He holds a glass in one hand, with his free arm resting on the backrest. His legs are crossed. His noble aura overflowing.
“What? Were you expecting someone else?”
His voice is low and gruff. He doesn’t hide the contempt in it.
“No! I just came down to make some tea,” I reply bitterly. Throwing out an exasperated breath, I march across the room past him, but halfway through I feel a strong grip on my wrist.
“What are you doing?”
I halt and turn to face his tall stature.
“Let me go. It hurts!” I cry in protest. His grasp is rather tight.
“Why are you still awake? Aren’t you tired from dancing and flirting with that bastard?”
I jump when he growls without the tiniest control in his voice. I don’t understand where this is coming from, but it’s clear he’s mad. This is the second time he’s raised his voice to me today.
“Why? Are you jealous now? Last I checked, you couldn’t care less about what I do or whom I’m with. After all, I am just a liability that you have the responsibility to look after,” I scorn.
The fact that he’s humiliated me by using me and then throwing me away like trash over the past several weeks is more than enough to ignite the rage that I’ve tried to suppress.
How dare he question me like a jealous husband?!
He scoffs. I’m swept up in a foreboding feeling of danger as his arm slowly wraps around my waist. I try to push him away in protest, but to no avail; my strength is nothing to him. The next thing I know, I’m pulled onto his lap, my back facing him, and I can’t help but feel the heat creeping up my face as I realized how provocative our position is.
My satin nightgown is barely covering my chest. It’s the middle of the night, and I hadn’t anticipated that anyone would still be downstairs.
