He doesn’t move. “Think of this as a job, Candace. I am your new employer. You can’t have a phone at work. You can’t have a past at work. If you want to quit and walk out that door tomorrow—fine. But while you are married to me, you will follow my rules.”
“Your rules seem ridiculous,” she snaps back. “You’re not going to chain me to a basement wall somewhere, are you?” Her forehead pinches, and a flash of alarm shows, as she considers this new possibility.
“I can assure you, there will be no basements or imprisonment involved. Though if you’d like to be tied up, that is certainly something I can arrange.” He presses his lips together in an attempt to halt the grin.
She likes that. She pretends she doesn’t, her glare intensifying, a snort of irritation coming out, but she fucking likes it. Right now, if he walks forward and pushes her back in that chair, his fingers sliding up her bare thigh, to the crotch of those silk panties, she’ll be wet. Just the thought of it, of her stretched across his bed, her skin pink, her ankles spread … it is getting him hard. And that is going to be a serious problem, his reactions to her. He is supposed to be marrying her for a purpose, something he's forgetting every time their eyes meet.
“We should head out.” Drew pockets her phone. “There’s a storm coming we should get in front of.”
“Where are we going?” She pushes to her feet, and there is almost a childlike quality to her movements, a hesitant excitement at the adventure ahead.
“Nashville,” he supplies. “My—our house there. And don’t worry, it doesn’t have a basement.”
She rolls her eyes at the response, slipping the cheap purse over her shoulder and stepping past him. Drew follows, a warning in his gaze. A warning Nathan chooses to ignore.
CHAPTER 13
There’s no basement, no chains, just a line of private planes, Nathan’s second lackey—Mark—helping me inside. The trip doesn’t take long, and Nathan doesn’t pull out his dick, the entire ride completed without any interaction at all. It appears I am marrying a non-talker.
Marrying. I swallow, and look out the window, unsure whether to pinch or slap myself. Is this actually happening? The decision leaves an odd taste in my mouth, my tongue unsure whether to celebrate the flavor or spit it out.
The limo slows, coming to a stop before a large neighborhood gate. Nathan glances up from his phone, listening to the conversation between his security man—Drew—and the guard. “Drew’s giving them your information.” He glances at me, and it’s the first eye contact we’ve had in hours. “They’ll quickly learn your face.”
My chances of death and dismemberment diminish slightly. I let out a breath, then think of something. “My car—it’s still at Sammy’s.” I picture my sad Subaru, bird droppings collecting on its blue paint, pollen coating its surface, drunk patrons writing crude remarks in the dusty windows.
“We are having it, and all of your belongings, moved to a storage unit.” He looks down at his phone, as if that snippet of information doesn’t dump out my innards and stomp right through them.
“Who is doing all that?” I turn in my seat, facing him, my question ignored. I reach out a hand, covering his phone’s screen. He sighs, his jaw tightening, and when he glances up, the irritation in his eyes almost causes me to back off. Almost. “I have personal items in there. I don’t want one of your guys going through all of my stuff.”
“Fine,” he snaps, and holds out his phone. “Call one of your friends. Tell them they have a week to pack up your shit. I’ll have movers pick up any boxes from your old house then.” He waits, his phone outstretched, and it looks a hell of a lot nicer than my new one.
I glance down at it, then turn, leaning on the armrest and looking out the window. “Never mind.” I blow out a breath. “Just have your guys do it.” My pride can’t tell him the truth. I don’t think I have a friend who’d want to bother with it.
We slow down again, a monstrous mansion to our right, and stop before another set of gates. A bit overkill. The gates open and I lean forward, curious.
The limo pulls around the drive, thick bushes passing, the home unveiled as we roll forward. It's a voyeur’s dream, glass the primary building material, and I look through the house and at the view, rolling hills and the glitter of a lake visible. “Your Windex budget must be out of control.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He reaches out, placing a hand on my bare knee, halting my reach for the door handle. “I’ll have Drew show you around. He can answer any questions you may have.”
“You’re not coming in?” I watch as he releases my knee, his eyes already back on his phone. My door is opened, and I hold up a hand to block the glare.
“I’m heading to the office.” He nods in the general direction of the house, and it’s as strong as a push. I accept Drew’s hand and step from the car, distracted by the thought of Nathan as I inhale everything about this new world.
Honeysuckle, the scent faint on the air, the bright green lawn punctuated by blocks of flowerbeds, all spilling with colors and textures, the soft sound of a sprinkler humming in the background. The home is white and modern, the glass walls showcasing low-slung furniture and bold art. A few years ago, I’d flipped through an Architectural Digest and torn out pages of a home like this. A few years ago, I’d have given anything for it. Now, I would have been happy with hot water and a genie to remove all of my debt.
Nathan wasn’t removing my debt, but he was doing one step better—taking care of my father. On the drive to the Destin airport, he’d presented me with two brochures, one for a facility an hour outside of Nashville—one for a facility in Jacksonville, close to Dad’s current home. I pocketed both, deciding to let my father decide, but not before I saw their rates, the figures causing my stomach to knot. For Nathan, it may be nothing. For me, and for my father, it is everything.
“Coming?” Drew stands at the front doors.
I force a smile, and step forward.
The tour doesn’t take long, the common areas quickly addressed. Media room. Gym. Great room. Dining room. Kitchen. We swing by Nathan’s office, and skip one hallway altogether.
“What’s down there?” I slow, and Drew all but pushes me forward.
“My room, and the laundry. You won’t have need of either.”
“You live here?” I stop, visions of newly-wed romantic time clashing with the idea of bumping into Drew in the middle of the night.
“Will that be a problem, princess?” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I can see why Nathan would hire him, his intimidation factor high, his build impressive. In my wedges, I still only come to his shoulder.