Chapter 11

11

S teel

I pace up and down, looking at the clock. I’ll give her one more minute. Just one. What is taking so damned long?

I stop pacing for a second, thinking back on our earlier conversation. She was so sincere when she told me her story. It was like she didn’t want to tell me at all, which is completely at odds with a con artist. Fraudsters want to tell us all about their difficult lives. About the father who died too young and the mother who didn’t care. There’s always a story, and it’s always sad as shit. Designed to make you feel sorry for the person and designed to make you buy into the con.

It’s a mistake. Always a mistake. Don’t buy into the bullshit.

A father who abandoned her. Then the stepdad dies suddenly, leaving the mother and baby brother. Not only that, the mother has major health problems, as well. It’s one hell of a story. She really laid it on thick, and in a way that was incredibly believable. Good thing I’m not gullible. That I’ve been taken for a ride before.

But Miss Harris took too long to answer when I asked her if she was sure about marrying for money. I don’t like that. It was a simple question. She looked like she panicked for a few seconds after I asked. Like it isn’t something she wants. Her explanation worked. Not the part about needing money for her family – I’m not buying that. But the part about it being a difficult decision and somewhat intimidating? She didn’t use that word exactly, but it is what she meant, and I found myself buying that. I don’t think she plans on marrying anyone. I think she plans on winning me over and then finding a way to escape the island.

It’s fucking clever. It’s all so calculated and what I would expect from a female like her.

It’s a pity it isn’t going to work. I look at the clock and realize that two minutes have gone by. We can’t be late.

I knock on the door. “We need to leave in the next minute.”

“Coming,” she calls out. A few seconds later, she walks out of the bedroom, and I almost swallow my damned tongue.

I know why it took so long. She looks fucking incredible.

Subtle makeup highlights her best features. Her big, blue eyes, high cheekbones, and those lush-as-fuck lips. The dress is…it’s elegant, sophisticated, and just plain works. It shows off her narrow waist and high tits. It hides everything else, hinting at how good she looks underneath there.

“Are you done gawping at me?” she asks, a hint of humor in her tone.

Fuck!

An amused smile plays on her lips.

“I’m checking for concealed weapons,” I lie through my teeth.

She laughs. It’s throaty and so damned sexy. “You should check yourself, then.” Her eyes drop to my crotch for a moment before moving back to lock with mine. She gives me a look.

My mouth twitches. Funny! I’m not falling for her bullshit, so I press my lips together instead. No smiling. No laughing and absolutely no flirting.

“We need to go,” I tell her, unlocking the door.

Miss Harris nods and walks forward, almost falling on her face. She squeals, going down.

I react, grabbing her by the upper arms and hauling her back to her feet.

“Thanks,” she mutters, sighing. “I don’t have much experience walking in heels like this. To think that these are the lowest pair I was given. I’ll have to practice walking in them.”

I realize that I’m still holding her arms and pretty much staring into her wide eyes, so I let her go.

“Be more careful,” I tell her in a gruff voice.

With a tiny nod, the human walks out into the hallway; she takes it slowly and carefully. I take her by the elbow as soon as we are in the hallway.

“Afraid I’ll run away?”

“I’m afraid you might fall and break your neck in those heels. We’re running late and need to pick up the pace. You’re almost as tall as I am in those things.” I glance down at her feet. They look damned good on her, but she clearly has zero experience in heels.

She giggles softly for a moment. “I don’t think so. You must be at least six foot five, maybe even six foot six.”

I huff out a breath that sounds too much like the start of a laugh for my liking. “Actually, I’m six foot eight.”

“Wow! That’s impressive. I have to say, you clean up really nicely.” She gives me the once-over.

“You’d better keep your eyes up ahead. I don’t want you tripping over your feet again. I might not be able to save you this time.”

“I think you would. I saw how fast you moved. It was impressive.”

I don’t answer. I don’t like all the compliments.

She smells really good, but I prefer her natural scent. Warm sunshine and cinnamon dreams. I’m not too sure where that corny crap came from, but it’s all true. It is how she smells. After a week, it’s how the whole apartment has started to scent…namely, of her. I’m not sure how someone with such bad intentions can smell so damned good. It’s wrong.

We navigate our way through the castle, arriving at the reception area. I nod to the male who greets us there. His eyes go wide when he sees Miss Harris. I have to hold back a teeth-bared growl.

The human is in my care. Since I’m not a caveman, I keep my decorum, but only just.

Then we walk outside, and I keep a firm grip on Miss Harris’s elbow. She keeps up despite the high heels, which clack on the tiles of the porte-cochere. The shoes, coupled with the slits up the side of her long, billowing dress, give hints at her legs that are enough to make a male’s mouth water.

I keep my eyes up ahead. It’s better that way. I note that some of the males around us are looking damned hard at her. I’m pretty sure one or two of them drool as they do. I tighten my grip on the human’s arm, holding back a snarl. She is my charge, and therefore, I’m feeling protective. It is normal behavior. These males need to watch themselves. Have they gone soft on the training since I left? That must be it.

There are three black SUVs waiting for us in a line right outside. I open the door to the back seat of the vehicle in the middle. Males dressed in sleek, black suits stand waiting. They all have communication devices in their ears. I am handed one such device as I round the SUV.

I nod my thanks and take a seat next to Miss Harris, putting the device in my ear where it belongs. All I have to do is to press the side to speak. There will be no comms unless warranted. I’m hoping for a silent trip.

“Buckle up,” I tell Miss Harris as I lean back in the comfortable soft leather seat.

She does as I ask without question. Then we’re pulling out in a convoy.

The vehicle is cool. There is a light whir as air blasts from the vent, offering respite from the outside humidity.

The sky is a deep shade of royal blue, speckled with dark clouds that gather together as I watch. There is a distant rumble of thunder. A storm is rolling in.

“I didn’t bring an umbrella,” the human grumbles, her gaze on the sky as well. “Or a raincoat or my wellies.” She holds up a foot. Her dress falls away, revealing toned calves and those damned high heels.

I look away, adjusting my tie. “I think you’ll be okay,” I tell her. I’ve seen the houses these rich pricks live in. They don’t get their expensive shoes dirty…ever. They have large garages with multiple vehicles and elevators and shit. They have grand covered entrances. There is no mud.

Although I am acutely aware of Miss Harris, I find myself falling into my familiar routine. My eyes track each and every female we pass. I study their faces. I look for her. I’m always looking and one day I will find her and so help me, I’ll bring her to justice, even if I have to do it myself.

Thankfully, the trip doesn’t take too long; we soon enter one of the well-to-do neighborhoods. The clouds above seem to darken the further we drive, and the distant rumble in the sky grows louder. We drive past mansions that stand behind high walls and gates.

As we pull up to one particular estate, I can’t help but notice fear flash in the human’s eyes as she takes in the place. Her breathing increases, and she swallows thickly. The gates open slowly, groaning in protest as they reveal the imposing stone structure down a long, tree-lined driveway.

The rain starts to fall in earnest as we pull up to the front of the mansion. As suspected, the entrance is completely covered, so Miss Harris won’t get wet.

Large double doors open, and a male walks out. He is well-dressed in a sharp, pin-striped suit with a matching waistcoat. Gold cufflinks glint under the light spilling from the large hallway. His hair is short and styled, with strands of gray at his temples that speak of his age, contrasting with the youthful appearance of his face. This isn’t unusual for us shifters. We generally age well and live longer than your average human. As he approaches, I can see a certain crispness in his demeanor, the way his eyes narrow with scrutiny.

I get out and go around, helping the human out of the vehicle, steadying her as the rain picks up. I can’t help but notice her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are wide. I can scent the nervous energy radiating off her.

The male’s eyes narrow further as he appraises the human as if she were a piece of furniture or a fancy car.

He must like what he sees because he smiles. “Welcome,” he says. “You must be Miss Harris. I’ve heard so much about you.” When we reach him, he takes her hand and kisses it.

Hand kissing? Really?

How old is he, anyway?

“Um…hi…yes, please call me Jen…it’s Jennifer, but Jen will work,” she babbles, sounding as nervous as she looks.

The male is still holding her hand in his. “I’m Count Augustine. You may call me August.” He beams. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Come with me; let me show you around my humble abode.”

Humble, my ass.

This bozo could be her father. What was Ice thinking introducing them? Perhaps Miss Harris doesn’t care about age.

As expected, Augustine ignores me flat. I am just the staff. He doesn’t protest when I tag along. Hopefully, the general briefed this male that I would be accompanying them at all times. We go on a tour of his mansion. The rooms are huge. There are a ton of them. All the bedrooms have ensuite bathrooms. There’s a movie room. Who needs one? An indoor pool. A gym with a sauna and a cold plunge pool. A bar area. An outdoor pool. A formal lounge and a regular living room. A dining room. A conference room. The list goes on and on and on. I’m sure Jen – the human – will be happy with all the steps she’s getting in.

As predicted, he has a huge garage and no less than twelve impressive-as-shit vehicles, but Miss Harris doesn’t look impressed. She looks a little bored.

“Now, this vehicle is my baby.” Count Augustine runs his hand lovingly down the sleek hood of a black Corvette. “It’s a work of art, isn’t it?”

Jen nods and takes a deep breath before finally replying, “Yes, it’s... impressive.” She smiles, running her eye over the various cars, all lined up.

“See those two open spaces at the end?” The count points. “Those would be for your cars, Jen. You can pick anything you’d like, although I would suggest an SUV for running the kids around and a sports car…just because you can.” He winks at her.

Jen keeps the smile plastered on her face. “It’s a little soon to be talking about kids. You’re the first bachelor I’m meeting.”

“I suppose you are right, although, in a mere two short weeks, you will be expected to choose between all of us. The mating ceremony will follow soon after. I’m not getting any younger, Jen. It’s been my dream to have a mate and children to continue my legacy. I would not want to wait.” His eyes are bright with excitement. “I would want you pregnant on our wedding night. I know that many of the males taking part will feel the same. Never fear; you would want for nothing. Your every whim, every desire, will be met. I would cherish you.”

He carries on talking. I don’t really listen. I notice how shocked Miss Harris is, although she tries to hide it. She didn’t know any of this. I would go so far as to say that she didn’t know about having to get pregnant straight away. It probably interferes with her plans of escape. That would be my guess. If she can’t get away between now and the ceremony, then she’ll run once she’s married. That’ll be more difficult once she is pregnant. I’m just guessing but I’ll bet I’m right on the money.

“Are you alright?” the count asks. “You look a little pale. Are you hungry? Maybe even thirsty, as well? My manners.” He puts a hand to his chest. “Come this way. We’ll get you off your feet. My chef has prepared beef wellington with black mushrooms and truffles. As accompaniments, he’s prepared creamed spinach and fondant potatoes. Then, for appetizers, there are scallops with a pea puree. The best is the dessert. It’s my personal favorite, a chai panna cotta with a honey crumb. You’re going to love it. Come with me, my dear.” He takes her by the arm.

“Sounds wonderful.”

Only Miss Harris doesn’t eat fancy food. She doesn’t eat such rich meals. I don’t think it bodes well that he didn’t even ask what she wanted.

Once we reach the dining hall, I note that two places have been set out. The count pulls the chair out for Miss Harris, who looks only too happy to finally be able to take a seat. I note that she doesn’t look around much. We’ve passed several pieces of art by well-known painters, but she hasn’t so much as looked. Is she really this good? Is she playing it down? Or is it something else?

“I want to tell you a little about my family. About our history and…” He pours Miss Harris a glass of chilled white wine without asking if she wants it. Then he drones on and on and on until my ears start to bleed. It’s clear that Count Augustine loves himself.

The scallops are served. The human makes a valiant effort to eat her entrée. She smiles and nods, but I can tell that she’s bored to tears. I keep looking at my watch. When will this end? The count talks the hind legs off of several donkeys. It’s all about his family tree. His family crest and how important they are.

“My cousin Hector’s mate just had a female child. We have two female children in our family.” He sounds animated. “There is a good chance that I will sire a female, too. I want a big family, Jen. Five or six children.”

“Five or six…wow. That’s…it’s…” She licks her lips. I note that she hasn’t touched the glass of red wine he poured for her once the wellington was served.

“It’s something we can talk about,” he finally says around a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It would be a partnership. Of that, you can be assured. We would make an excellent team.”

Yeah, right! Partnership. Team. He doesn’t know the meaning of these words. This male isn’t used to being told no about anything ever. He is the type who always gets what he wants.

My cellphone starts to vibrate. I step out of the room, keeping my eye on the only exit. I’m pretty sure that the count will start yelling if Miss Harris jumps out of a window. I smile because Miss Harris isn’t going anywhere in those shoes.

I see that it’s the general calling. I walk a little farther away, keeping half an eye on the female.

“Hello,” I say, keeping my voice down.

“How is it going?” the general snaps.

“Fine,” I say. “All good.”

“And Miss Harris? Does she look the part? Did she put in the effort?” he asks.

I frown. “Yes, she looks the part.” Why would he ask such a thing? “She wants the money and to be a part of this arrangement, so why wouldn’t she look the part?”

“Just checking. Miss Harris is not like us. She’s um…” He pauses. “From the other side of the tracks. I don’t fully trust her and don’t want her to embarrass me.”

“She isn’t. She needs the money. Said her family on the Mainland isn’t doing very well. Something about a sick mother.”

He laughs. “Miss Harris doesn’t have a sick mother. Her parents are deadbeats. Her older brother, too. They’re all perfectly fine. Her mother looks like an older version of Miss Harris.”

“Older brother.” I pull in a breath. “I was under the impression that her brother was much younger than her. She called him her baby brother.”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for her crap.”

“I’m not falling for anything,” I say under my breath. “I told you that I don’t care either way. I have a job to do. The end!” So, she was lying. I knew it. I fucking knew it. I’m not sure why I’m so shocked to hear it. Or why I even tested the theory to begin with. That’s what this was; it was me checking up on her story. I wanted to know.

Miss Harris laughs from the other room. She asks the count another question, playing the role perfectly.

“You don’t have to worry about me or about her. We both know what’s expected of us. If I fall for her bull and she escapes, you can cut my head from my shoulders.”

“You can be sure I will.” His voice is low and icy cold. “Once is a mistake, but twice…”

“I’ll get her down the aisle. I will make sure she honors her agreement with you.”

“Good.” The line goes dead.