I leave him to it, striding across the foyer when I see Lenora finishing up her conversation with Cara and gesturing towards the reception desk. I back up into the alcove under the stairs across from Clive, shrouded in darkness. I want to make sure he doesn’t grow some balls and renege on our agreement, not that I think anyone here isthatstupid.
“Ooh, a zen garden. Do you find it helps soothe away your stresses?” Her eyes are bright and wide as she beams down at Clive. Some of the light Lenora’s presence had stifled returning.
“Not so much today,” Clive all but grunts in response as he clutches his hand to his chest, the tug of his awkward smile unnerving as he tries to hide his pain. His eyes search for me in the darkness as I stay hidden. He knows I’m here watching his every move. Thankfully, that’s enough to keep him compliant. Pretty little Cara here doesn’t need to witness all my crazy on her very first day.
The air around her, even at this distance, carries a floral sweetness, lavender and honeyed almonds, enticing me to get a little closer. I greedily suck down a lungful as I watch her animatedly converse with Clive as she gazes around at the high beamed ceilings, admiring the stained glass inserts in the conservatory’s new build as he rattles off an answer for each of her many questions.
Jeremy, resident handyman, local peeping Tom, and now the guy Lenora has decided will paw through Cara’s belongings, is sodangerously close to having my fist rammed down his throat, it’s laughable. Rummaging around her suitcase on the table behind her, his shock of red hair the only part of him visible as he lowers himself to snoop. Wide brown eyes emerge from behind the case as he pulls out a black lace thong, a suggestive grin from ear to ear spreading across his face as he motions excitedly for Clive’s attention. Cara’s none the wiser as he lifts the fabric to his nose and inhales, filling his lungs greedily. Clive’s eyes bug out of his head as his gaze flicks to where I'm hiding.
I step out, fists clenched, ready to commit murder. Jeremy gulps, fear draining the warmth from his features, his face paper-white when our eyes meet. He drops the underwear and seals the case.
“Ma’am,” he cordially addresses Cara, handing her the suitcase and scurrying away like the rat he is.
Cara doesn’t know it yet, but she was mine the moment she climbed out of that rust bucket of a car. The second I saw this beguiling woman, I knew I was fucked. That little voice in my head screamed at me to claim her there and then; to throw her down and make sure she would never again be able to wash my scent from her skin. To indelibly carve my name into her soul. I’ll let her find her wings here, but, if necessary, I won’t hesitate to clip them when the time comes. My little Red will know soon enough who she belongs to. My obsession with her grows every second she’s in my presence, and the thought of someone taking her away from me makes that murderous haze descend over my vision. Would I ruin her sweetness if I held ontoo tight?
I wonder how much darkness my new plaything can withstand.
I’m Ezra fucking Wolfe, and I get what I want, even in this prison—and right now, all I want, is her.
CHAPTER FIVE
CARA
When I was told the Knox brothers would show me to my room, I hadn’t expected two towering, identical men in brown fur-felt hats and matching leather boots. Their short jet-black hair is mostly hidden beneath the brims, their broad torsos clad in blue scrub shirts—the standard issue with the Blackwood Asylum branding; it’s the only real hint that they are patients, not staff.
I follow behind the handsome cowboys silently as they show me to the southside of the building, cataloguing all the details to share with Suzy later; fucked-in-the-head hotties are kind of her go-to man candy. I notice a number of rooms with doors ajar, any furniture that remains inside them covered with dust-coated painter sheets.
“Are there other staff on my floor?” I ask meekly, shuffling along under the weight of my suitcase and the stack of books tucked under my arm as the din of the main hall fades off into the distance.
“Not currently. But there always seems to be a rotation with the workers here at Blackwood.”
“I’m surprised they put you all the way over here on your lonesome. Lenora usually likes to keep her staff close,” the other guy adds, sharing a conspiratorial smile with his twin.
I try not to read too much into it; the fluttering nervous energy in my belly is more than enough to keep me occupied until I can get to my room and start making the space my own. I don’t need to add the intricacies of my awkward social interactions into the mix.
“Caleb,” twin one states with a thumb pressed into his chest. “The less dashing one is Cooper,” he chuckles, shoulder-checking his brother playfully. The intricate black and grey skull and flame tattoos creeping up their necks contort as they twist their heads to face me. Their dark emerald eyes ringed with amber sparkling as they assess me.
“Ca-ra,” I stumble with my name as though it’s new to me, my voice small as my gaze bounces between the two men.
“Ca-ra,” Cooper repeats, toying with the drawn-out sounds as though he’s tasting each syllable on his tongue. With a heated grin they turn and continue to walk briskly down the hallway.
I keep hot on their heels, but they tower over me, and one of their strides equates to two of mine. We approach a flight of stairs, and they abruptly stop and turn. As though it’s a synchronized dance they’ve perfected, Cooper reaches for the stack of books, and Caleb takes my suitcase, neither one saying a word as they turn to ascend the stairs.
“I have every hope that your stay here will be an interesting one. Ezra doesn’t speak to just anyone,” Cooper notes as he glances back at me with a mischievous, off-kilter grin.
“You must be special,” Caleb adds cryptically, his carbon copy smile just as attractive as his brother’s. Their back and forth should unsettle me; I’m not clueless enough to not realise that the importance of their exchange is in what they aren’t saying. It’s the side glances, the clearing of their throats, and thesubtle shakes of their heads. If I were to be faced with these men in a dark alley, I’d likely be running in the opposite direction; their trickster energy is bold, and coupled with the darkness that lingers beneath their surfaces, I find it hilarious that I am following them without question, to a room so far away from my getaway vehicle.
Flattening my hands down my dress, I consider their earlier assumption that something about me sparked the attention of Ezra Wolfe and say with conviction, “Nothing special about me.”
They chuckle in response, likely assuming I’m being modest, but they couldn’t be further from the truth. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, with shapely hips, an athletic build, and a generous handful of boobage, I should have confidence enough to hold my head high. Sadly, that was beaten out of me years ago, my sense of self crushed beneath the feet of all the men who paid Doc for a turn with my body. The only reason I even bother looking at my reflection anymore is because when faced with my almond, sea water blue eyes, I truly feel connected to my mother. I could get lost in them, contemplating what an existence might have looked like if I’d have had a different start in life.
I note Ezra doesn’t seem to see the trauma I carry around on my shoulders. I allow myself a moment to consider that maybe the guys are right and that our exchange outside in the courtyard was him showing his interest in me.
I’d love to see myself through his eyes.
“Still with us, sweetcheeks?”
With a squeak of surprise, I stumble into Cooper, shaken from my thoughts as they stand outside room 127. My home away from home for the foreseeable future. Caleb, the more guarded of the two, glares at his brother, another subtle head shake thrown his way. Cooper rolls his eyes and breaks the intense stare they are sharing by turning to me.
