Chapter 16

D arian’s assistant pops her head through the door after lunch to announce that Darian is taking me out for the afternoon.

It marks one of the few rare occasions I’ve been let out of my gilded cage since this nightmare began. Darian keeps a short leash.

Is it even a nightmare anymore? The truth is, I’m not excited because I get to leave the house; I’m excited because Darian wants to spend time with me.

I squash those traitorous thoughts. I can’t let myself forget that Darian Delacroix forced me to marry him against my will after he had my friends murdered.

After applying mascara to my lashes and my favorite raspberry-scented lip gloss, I put on a yellow knee-length sundress and leave my hair loose. Lucious blonde curls cascade down my back, and my skirt swishes around my knees.

I wonder briefly what type of women Delacroix likes as I lift my hair from my neck. Is he a leg or a boob man? Does he prefer blondes or brunettes? The man is a mystery.

A sinfully hot mystery.

There’s a knock on my door, and I turn just as it creaks open to reveal Darian standing in the doorway. I lean against the vanity table, taking in his crisp white shirt, slim tie, and black pants. His enticing cologne fills the air as he steps into my room and glances around, looking out of place, like one of Satan’s hellhounds in a Barbie house. When his eyes meet mine, they darken, and as he remains silent, my heart begins to thud.

“Miss Sanders didn’t tell me where we’re going, so I wasn’t sure what to wear,” I say.

“What you’re wearing is fine.”

Okay then.

I push off the desk and waltz up to him, painfully aware of my tingling nipples. Darian watches me like I’m a dangerous predator—one that makes him wary but intrigued.

“So,” I say when I’m within touching distance, “where are you taking me, Mr. Delacroix?”

His eyes narrow as I smooth his slim tie. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, much too innocently.

“You’re playing nice. I expected to walk in here and find you cutting up your clothes or planning your great escape.”

“Can a wife not treat her husband nicely.”

“You? No.”

A smile creeps onto my lips as I walk past him to retrieve my purse from the chair. Darian follows me like a hawk, his eyes warming my back and the curve of my ass.

Whatever sizzles between us is too poignant to ignore. Do I even want to? Sure, he’s a controlling asshole and a member of the organization I set out to destroy, but he’s also hot as hell, and it would be a shame not to fuck him out of my system before killing him like I should have done the moment I first entered the Exodus party.

Besides, if I’m going to find out what happened to my dad, Darian is my best lead, and I can’t get him to trust me if I don’t try to seduce him first.

Straightening up, I clutch my purse as I turn around. Darian clears his throat and looks away, but his eyes soon trail back, almost as if he can’t help himself.

“Tell me,” I say as I saunter up to him, “is there perhaps a library where we’re going?”

Darian holds his breath while I remove invisible lint from his shirt.

My gaze lifts to his. “I have an affinity for literature.”

“Yeah?” he croaks.

I almost laugh. Almost. I’m not unaffected by his presence and sheer size as he towers over me with his broad shoulders and tall height. I have to crane my neck to look him in the eye, which my clit likes, judging by the throbbing heartbeat between my thighs.

“What type of literature specifically? Thrillers? Women’s fiction?”

“Try erotica.”

He chokes on his breath before he spins around and walks out. “We’re setting off in five minutes.”

Pressing a palm over my mouth, I suppress a bout of giggles. The man is too easy to rile up.

The car ride is tense.

I don’t know where we’re going because the man beside me won’t engage in conversation. I’ve tried, but he’s a locked vault, and all my questions are met with one-word answers. I get the distinct feeling he’s nervous about something, which makes me nervous. The anticipation messes with my head.

Darian sits with his legs spread, his thigh pressing against mine. Every time he shifts, his cologne thickens in the air, making it even harder to breathe in this confined space.

I straighten when the car rolls through a set of large iron gates with greater security than the White House. “Where are we?”

Darian checks his Rolex. “This estate belongs to Mr. Visage.”

My eyes widen, and I swing my head around to look at him. “He’s the man who purchased Lauren.”

We come to a stop in a circular driveway next to a set of steps, and Darian exits the car without another word.

I stare out at the large estate, admiring the elegant architecture and impressive columns. Large windows reflect the manicured gardens, the sun glinting on the shiny surface.

Warmth unfurls in my chest as I gaze at Darian, who greets Mr. Visage with a firm handshake. Something tells me we weren’t invited here; Darian arranged this dinner because he wanted to please me.

The driver opens my door, and I take his outstretched hand as he helps me out of the car. After I thank him, he tips his hat in acknowledgment. My eyes shift to Darian, who is already looking at me while his friend continues to talk.

A blush creeps up my neck from the intensity of Darian’s frosty gaze as I walk closer, ignoring the other man’s dismissive glance in my direction. Darian seems focused solely on me, but then my attention slides past him to the woman waiting by the door. A smile spreads across my face so wide that my cheeks begin to hurt.

I slam my purse against Darian’s chest and then take off running. Lauren is here; she’s really here, and she’s okay.

I swoop her up in a bear hug. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“Let me look at you.” Releasing her, I grab her shoulders, unable to believe my eyes. It’s only been weeks, but it feels like an eternity. Laurens’s wild auburn hair tumbles over her shoulders. She’s makeup-free, with freckles smattered across her sun-kissed cheeks. Dressed in a simple dress and sandals, she looks effortlessly beautiful.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve been so worried.”

She looks past me at the men, and the light in her eyes dims before she smiles again. “I’m fine. I promise. Let’s go inside. I’ll give you a tour.”

Lauren shows me around the grand estate while the men barricade themselves in the office to discuss business. Maids make themselves scarce when we enter rooms. It’s a beautiful home without much heart.

“What’s it like being a Pawn?” I ask as we walk through the rose garden out the back.

Deep in thought, she lets her fingers drift over the fragile petals of a flower. “It could be worse.”

“Worse?”

She shrugs, not looking at me, and then she starts to say something, but my eyes snag on a bruise peeking out from her collar. I shift it aside, horrified when I see the yellow and purple blotches.

“He did this to you?”

Pushing my hand away, she rights her collar to hide it. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Lauren, he beats you.”

She glances at the windows behind us, her throat jumping on a swallow. “Just…let’s talk about something else.”

“No, we’re talking about this.”

Her eyes take on a hard edge. “What did you think would happen, huh? He purchased me on Reckoning night, like an item to be owned. I’m a Pawn, Cecilia. We’re the lowest of the low. Maybe some Pawns are treated with respect, but I’m a whore and an object for his vile sexual perversions.”

Tears swim in my vision as I glance at the estate behind me, but there’s no sign of anyone else. Lauren struggles to meet my gaze, so I pull her to me and hold her tight. “We’ll get you out of this. I promise.”

“I’m in contact with the Antichrist.”

I gasp, releasing her. “You’ve spoken to them?”

She nods and lowers her voice. “They’re planning a rescue mission.”

“They are?”

“Yes. Not just for me, but for you, too.”

My chest tightens when she smiles at me with such hope that I want to look away in shame for feeling these mixed emotions. I should jump for joy at the prospect of being taken away from Darian’s clutches.

“Did they say when?”

“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “But soon.”

“I don’t know…”

“What don’t you know?” she asks, frowning.

I look away, but she cups my cheeks and says, “Hey, this is good news. They’ll set us free. It’s what we want, right?”

When I fail to respond, the crease between her brows deepens as she presses, “Right?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I finally nod and take her hand. “Of course.”

But it’s not ‘of course.’

Nothing about this feels right.

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I explain.

It’s a poor excuse, but the idea of Darian coming to harm makes my stomach queasy.

Lauren frowns and begins to respond, but masculine voices interrupt her. Darian looks between us, a question in his eyes as Mr. Visage walks up to Lauren and guides her back to the house with a possessive hand on her lower back. “Dinner is served.”

I break open the clam’s shell, poking at the orange flesh inside. I’ve never liked seafood, but I’m not about to complain in the presence of a man as scary as Mr. Visage. He has an air about him that sets me on edge. Maybe it’s the cold way he observes Lauren while she eats or the clipped tone he uses with the servers, but he makes my skin crawl.

Meanwhile, Darian indulges him in conversation, and I watch curiously as he sets down his cutlery and rests his arm on the back of my chair.

With his calm demeanor, Darian makes socializing seem effortless, but I know it’s just a game for him.

My husband, who is now toying with the tendrils of my hair, is a master manipulator and strategist, yet I can’t quite grasp what he’s set out to conquer.

Is it business with Mr. Visage?

Or my heart?

He removes his hand from the back of my chair and rests his big palm on my thigh while discussing a shipment from another state. It’s unnerving how unaffected he sounds as his hand inches higher up my leg.

He already has me wet, and I try my hardest not to squirm as I lift my wineglass to my lips, but I’m trembling so much that I place it back on the table.

As his pinky brushes up against my panties, my mouth falls open with a silent gasp.

His smooth baritone swims around me like a warm, exotic evening breeze. I spread my thighs, struggling to regulate my panting breaths. How a man can reduce me to pure need is scary and exciting.

He dips his pinky inside my panties and runs it up and down my slit. I glance at Mr. Visage, who breaks open another clam and then reaches for his tumbler of pure vodka.

Delacroix slides his pinky inside me. “You seemed hesitant about my offer earlier. I’m willing to double my offer to ensure the sale.”

Vodka spills everywhere as Mr. Visage chokes on his drink. “Excuse me?” he says, placing the drink back down and mopping at the wet stains on his shirt and lap with a tissue. “Double the price?”

“It’s a good deal. No one else will offer you that kind of money for a Pawn. You’d be foolish not to accept my offer.”

A Pawn? Who is he talking about?

“While it’s a tempting offer,” he replies, placing the tissue on his plate and easing back, “I don’t see what’s in it for you. She’s no different from the other Pawns.”

“I have my reasons.” He slides his pinky out and circles my clit with his fingers. “Do we have a deal or not?”

Mr. Visage studies Delacroix with an unveiled interest, almost like he can’t figure him out, then chuckles and shakes his head. “Like you said, only a fool would say no to such a lucrative deal. She’s all yours. Though be warned, she’s spoiled goods now.”

“Duly noted.” Delacroix removes his hand from my panties and holds it out for the man to shake, and my cheeks heat at seeing my arousal glisten on his long fingers. What is he doing? I’m not a professional at reading the energy in a room, but the dark shadows clinging to my husband bode badly for Mr. Visage.

Darian smirks while they shake on whatever business deal transpired, neither man willing to let go first. Is it another power play?

They finally separate, and my husband stands up, smooths down his tie, and thanks Mr. Visage for his hospitality. Then he turns to Lauren, smiling politely. “Kindly pack your bags. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

I gawk at Darian. Did he buy Lauren from Mr. Visage for me? How much money did he offer? He said double his original bid. How much was that? And why?

A small voice whispers that he did it for me, but I brush it away. Why would he go to such lengths? What has he got to gain? You, you idiot. Your heart is the prize. Delacroix is playing to win.

But why? Why does he want to win my affections? My trust? Why does he care? What’s in it for him?

My heart swells two sizes, and tears prick my eyes at the thought of him bringing me here to see Lauren. But not only that, he also went to great lengths to get her back…for me.

Averting my gaze, I blink rapidly.

Maybe I underestimated Darian Delacroix? Perhaps he’s not as bad as he leads the world to believe?