A minute later, Vasile was back, jogging toward me, and I wondered if he thought I may not be here when he returned. But where would I go? It was freezing, the middle of the night and I had no idea where we are.
He looked down at my feet. “Couldn’t find your boots. Which is why I was going to carry you to the door.”
“I’ve been carried quite enough for one day,” I spat back, knowing I was acting like a petulant child but I didn’t want to give him any satisfaction. Instead I marched right up to the front door, grabbed the lion’s head knocker, and gave it a few good whacks.
Behind me, Vasile blew out an exasperated breath.
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re stubborn?”
Anybody ever tell you that you’re irritatingly sexy?
Still with my hand on the knocker, I turned to face him, giving him my sternest glare.
“If you’re not going to tell me where we are or what we’re doing, you can be damned sure I’m going to figure out for myself.” And I added a few more knocks for dramatic effect.
Vasile cleared his throat, then approached me where I stood at the front entrance way. Through the small beveled glass sidelights, I saw no candles or signs of life.
As I knocked again, I imagined the sound echoing through the empty rooms. But Vasile stilled my hand mid-knock and reached past me. He turned the knob and the door swung open.
“You didn’t think I lived with that dickhead brother of mine, did you?” he asked. He held the door open for me. Now that I was in my slippers and he was still in his boots, he was even taller than I remembered. I passed easily under his outstretched arm and into the front foyer.
“You live here?” I asked. Now I saw that there were indeed low burning embers in the two massive fireplaces I could see from where I stood. Though the house was sparsely furnished, it was quite beautiful in every way.
“Yes,” he said, locking the door behind us. “Among other places.”
I found him both frustrating and alluringly mysterious. So much so, in fact, that I had to remind myself that he was a villain, and the only reason to spend time with him was to seduce him, ruin myself and run off in disgrace, never to set foot anywhere near the Greengallows again.
Every time he spoke, it was like there was a whole world of information he was keeping to himself. And yet, I didn’t feel like he was lying to me. Just… telling me what he wanted me to know. Lies by omission possibly, yet somehow I felt he was doing it for my own safety.
And something about that was intensely erotic to me.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I stepped away to explore, but before I could get away he’d grabbed me once more.
I let out a wild-animal roar that echoed through the mostly empty rooms. I maneuvered my way around to wrap my arms around him again in another hold that came from my grappling classes. This time, though, I didn’t have the element of surprise and in a few long strides he made his way to the end of a huge leather sofa.
With a forceful heave, he flipped me over and I landed with a cushy thump on the tufted leather. I glared at him upside down, with my chest heaving. He planted his hands on the sofa arm and glared back.
“Can we knock that shit off, please?”
With a growl, I thrust myself off the sofa and set about exploring again. I was fuming at first, annoyed at myself for missing my chance, but with every step I took I forced myself to calm down. If I wanted to keep control of this situation, I had to keep my wits about me. Anger was the most blinding emotion of all and I had to let go of it as fast as possible.
Fortunately, the house gave me plenty to focus on instead. As I made my way from room to room, Vasile followed, re-igniting fires in most of the rooms as we went, intense but not threatening.
With my body and movements, I tried to convey as much confidence as I could, but it was just an act—I was nervous, in an unfamiliar place, and with a man who looked at me and treated me in a way that had me feeling things I’d never felt before.
But as I walked, I tried to act as if I owned the place. Truth be told, I wished I could own somewhere so luxurious and beautiful.
His heavy footfalls followed me, big authoritative thumps on the polished floors. It was a reminder that he was just that—a man. A real man. Not some boy I was dancing with at the New Years’ dance, not some suitor barely into adulthood.