Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

AURORA

I half expected to see smoke curl around his legs, snake up his body, and enclose his head in a demonic halo. That was how demons appeared, right? There was no way the man was human. It was unnatural to look that… perfect.

He was tall, dwarfing my stepfather by at least a foot. The moonlight reflected off his glossy black hair, giving it an unnatural cobalt blue appearance. The shadows gave his face a sinister look with harsh angles under his cheekbones and lowered brow. His suit was so impeccably tailored it appeared almost fake. It was too stiff and smooth, not a single wrinkle in the trousers. As if the person wearing it was a bloodless statue.

Mr. Winterbourne stepped further into the hallway.

No one said a word.

He raised his arm and another shadow detached from the wall. I put a hand to my mouth, stifling a start. This man was dressed entirely in black. Mr. Winterbourne said something to him in hushed tones. The man nodded and then raised his hand to his ear and spoke softly into some kind of hidden earpiece. Moments later the hallway was flooded with light.

I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes to the brightness.

The moment my eyes focused, I realized Mr. Winterbourne was staring straight at me. I turned to look behind me, desperately hoping someone else had somehow entered the house, but no. When I turned my head back, he was still staring.

His dark, hypnotic gaze pulled my soul from my body. There was no other way to describe how cold and empty I felt. As though he were drawing all the life and energy from me and the only way I would get it back was if I followed him into the fiery depths of hell.

I was being dramatic and silly, of course. We were reading Jane Eyre in school right now and the gothic drama of the book clearly had gone to my head. Although damn if I wasn't feeling like Jane caught in the mesmerizing trap of Rochester's glare.

I lowered my head, hoping to break his gaze. As I hazarded a peek through the curtain of my hair, I could see he was still staring. My cheeks warmed. I had only ever heard his name mentioned occasionally. I knew Mr. Winterbourne owned the company where my stepfather was the chief executive officer. So whatever this was, it didn't concern me, which suited me just fine, since I feared if I stayed in his presence much longer, I'd be reduced to a pile of ashes. "I'll just go to my room."

Mr. Winterbourne's voice was like a hot steel blade, sharp and cutting. "Don't. Move."

I froze in place.

Alfred mopped his sweating brow with the end of his tie. "Mr. Winterbourne, we weren't expecting you. We would have been at home to welcome you to our home, but I see you're already in our home, so welcome to our home." He made a weak gesture with his hand.

My eyes widened. I had never been fond of my stepfather, but he'd always struck me as a confident man of business. One look from Mr. Winterbourne, and he was reduced to a babbling idiot. Although I couldn't blame him.

My gaze shifted from Alfred back to Mr. Winterbourne.

He was still staring straight at me.

Was there something wrong with me? I internally rolled my eyes. I probably had food stuck in my teeth. I ran the tip of my tongue over my front teeth to check. Then licked my lips.

Mr. Winterbourne hissed air through his clenched jaw as his dark gaze narrowed.

I shivered.

Somehow the atmosphere had become even more charged with negative tension.

My mother stepped partially in front of me, cutting off his gaze. She placed her hands on either side of her boobs, smashing them together and pushing her cleavage up under the guise of smoothing her open Chanel jacket. "Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Winterbourne?" Her question oozed with illicit suggestion.

Looked like Mommy dearest was angling for husband number four in front of husband number three. Mr. Winterbourne was a little young for her. He looked to be in his thirties. My mother usually went for older men. I was sure his ca-billions had something to do with it. I didn't know much about the man other than he was a billionaire several times over. The company my stepfather ran was only one of hundreds he owned. Evidently he collected them the way other people collected stamps or coins.

Staring past her as though she didn't even exist, Mr. Winterbourne kept his stern gaze on me. "You have something of mine."

I blinked.

Why did it feel like he meant me?

That was insane. Why on earth would he possibly mean me? This was the first time I had even laid eyes on the man. I kept both arms at my sides as I furiously tapped out a Beethoven sonata with my fingertips against my thighs. This whole situation was painfully awkward. All I wanted to do was escape to the safety of my bedroom.

I could almost feel the physical weight of his gaze lift from my shoulders the moment he finally focused his attention on my quaking stepfather. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

My stepfather shifted back, stepping on my toe. I yelped and moved to the side. Now I was standing on my own as my mother shifted closer to Alfred. She placed a warning hand on Alfred's shoulder and responded, "I am sure we don't know to what you are referring."

The hint of a smile lifted the corner of Mr. Winterbourne's mouth.

It was terrifying.

He flicked a nonexistent piece of lint off the collar of his perfect suit and answered, "And I'm equally sure you know precisely what I'm referring to. Even a man of my considerable wealth would notice ten million pounds missing from my accounts."

I gasped.

All eyes turned to me. My cheeks flamed as I choked out a whispered, "Sorry."

Alfred puffed out his chest. "That… that… that money was a… was a… was a…"

"Bonus," chimed in my mother.

"Yes, yes, yes… a bonus," finished Alfred. He played with his tie to cover his shaking hands. "Naturally I assumed it was a bonus for all my hard work."

Mr. Winterbourne raised a single eyebrow. "Cost of labor is up. Revenue is down. The stock lost twelve percent in value during the last fiscal quarter. And yet you want me to believe that ten million pounds just magically appeared in your account one day and you innocently assumed it was a bonus?"

Alfred lurched forward, settling a sweaty palm on the sleeve of Mr. Winterbourne's suit, crushing it. "You have to believe me, sir. That's what happened."

Mr. Winterbourne pulled free of his grasp. He raised an arm and gestured with two fingers. "These men are here to take you into custody for embezzlement and fraud."

Several men dressed in black with guns on their hips emerged from all corners to surround us.

My mother placed a hand to her forehead. "Oh, my God, the scandal. We'll be ruined."

Alfred grabbed Mr. Winterbourne's arm again. "I'm innocent. I tell you it just appeared in my account out of nowhere."

"And yet you didn't return it?"

"I'll return it now… well… most of it. I… I… spent some of it."

"You've spent over three million of it in the last two weeks."

What the hell? How in the world had my mother and stepfather managed to blow through three million freaking pounds in two weeks? I guessed that explained the matching his and hers Lamborghinis that showed up a few days ago.

Alfred shook so badly his teeth chattered. "I know. I know! I'll pay you back."

"How? Your current bank account and real estate assets equal barely a million and a half."

"I'll sell my wife's jewelry!"

My mother's hand flew to the garishly large diamond necklace around her neck. "Alfred!"

"Shut up, Meredith. Do you want me to go to prison?"

Mr. Winterbourne silently motioned for the men to stand down.

They moved a few feet away but remained an ominous presence.

He tilted his head as he rubbed his jaw. "I'd need collateral, something of value, as a show of good faith that you intend to pay back the money you stole."

Alfred ripped the Rolex off his wrist. He then snatched my mother's wrist and yanked off her diamond-encrusted Rolex as well. He held them out. "Here, take these."

Mr. Winterbourne barely glanced at his offering. Once again, his gaze locked on mine. "I was thinking something more along the lines of a pound of flesh ."

I took a step back.

As I was taking another, Alfred wrapped his fingers around my upper arm and yanked me forward. "Have you met Aurora? My young, beautiful stepdaughter?"

Horrified, I struggled within his grasp. "Let go of me!"

"Shut up, you ungrateful bitch," snarled Alfred. Whiskey and stress had given his cheeks and nose a blotchy red rash.

My mother stepped forward. For half a second, I thought she would actually defend me, maybe even slap Alfred for suggesting something so outrageous. I was wrong.

She slipped her hands over Mr. Winterbourne's suit lapels. "You don't want some teenager. Wouldn't you prefer someone with more experience? Someone who knows how to please a man?"

He removed her hands from his body. His cold gaze swept over her. "I said something of value ."

Before my mother could respond, one of his men stepped between her and him. The man held her back as she raged at the insult. Spittle formed in the corner of her lipstick-stained lips as she furiously questioned Mr. Winterbourne's manhood.

Alfred yanked on my arm again. I stumbled and fell at the feet of Mr. Winterbourne. I looked up to see him staring down at me like some vengeful god, which was fitting since I was being offered up as a virgin sacrifice on my parents' altar of greed.

He bent down and reached for me.

I scurried back, not wanting him to touch me. I couldn't explain it, but I knew deep down if he touched me, all would be lost. I would be forever marked.

Alfred reached for my hair, pulling a fistful. "Get up!"

I cried out as I grasped the clump of hair at the roots and tried to pull it from his sweaty grasp.

With no warning, Mr. Winterbourne's fist lashed out, catching Alfred under the jaw and sending him flying backward to slam into a nearby wall. Despite the flash of violence, his voice was calm and in control. "Don't fucking touch her."

Stunned, I forgot to move out of the way as his warm hands closed around my shoulders and lifted me back to my feet. After smoothing my hair back into place, he gently kissed my forehead. "You're safe now."

It was something you said to a child to get them to stop crying after skinning their knee.

And the last thing I was feeling in his presence was safe .

Directing his next comment to his men, Mr. Winterbourne ordered, "Keep these two occupied while I assess the… value … of their collateral offering."

With no further protest from either my own mother or stepfather, Mr. Winterbourne placed a possessive hand at the small of my back and guided me into the shadows at the end of the long hallway and then up the darkened staircase.