MARIGOLD
My chest vibrates with the sound of a soft purr. I peek one eye open to see Heirloom lying on my chest staring at me. Even though I try to save as many of them as I can, I don’t own a cat of my own. It's hard to own one when you do a bit of couch surfing. The handsome little guy is purring so loudly it could wake the dead.
Dead. My heart is suddenly in my throat at the reminder of death. Heirloom himself is proof enough that I hadn’t had some crazy-ass dream of a wild night. It had all been real. Everything had happened so fast. How could someone so easily grab someone and BAM, snap their neck? But that’s exactly what went down.
That’s some serious hand-wrist strength or something. I can’t even open a jar of pickles without banging the bottom of the jar a million times or running it under hot water. Where would one learn to do such a thing?
Wait a minute, what if all of that part was a dream? Maybe I passed out and never even escaped from my kidnapper to begin with. That would explain why getting away had seemed so easy and then the whole neck snapping thing, which Mrs. Lou had brushed off. Yeah, I definitely dreamed it. Okay, I’m lying to myself. It all happened.
“Heirloom.” I whisper his name. “You saw it too, right? He killed that man.” He butts me with his head, obviously saying yes but also asking me for pets. I give him what he wants. I’m noticing a trend with the men in this house. They all get what they want.
After I give him a few small pets, I sit up and glance around the bedroom. I don’t see my captor, but I do see a pile of neatly folded clothes sitting on the nightstand. I glance down at what I’m wearing and realize I’m not in the clothes I had on yesterday. I must have passed out and he changed me. I’m in an oversized shirt that smells of Avery, but I feel that my panties are still on. I would give him a piece of my mind about changing me, but the man has seen every part of me naked at this point.
And I’ve seen him kill a man with his bare hands. Not even hands! It was only one. Oddly impressive. No, not impressive, crazy. Yes, he’s most definitely a sociopath, I remind myself. In no way was it even a little bit hot that someone for the first time in my life was so quick to defend me without so much as a thought. Avery was in action in half a second.
Then I… I close my eyes, covering my face with my hands and groan. He’d gotten me off. Right there after it happened. How have I gone from being a cat burglar to a violence groupie? Stockholm syndrome. Yep, that’s my theory, and I’m holding strong on that one. I’m not going to touch the fact that I actually don’t feel bad about Mr. Hoover being dead. I’m more worried about the fallout than anything.
“Morning, my little thief.” I drop my hands from my face. Avery comes striding into the bedroom.
“Morning, sociopath.” Hey, if he can give me a nickname, I can do the same.
“Already with the terms of endearment. I knew you’d come around to what is happening between us.” He leans down and presses his mouth against mine. Without thought, my lips part, and I let him taste me. I might kiss him back a little, but that’s because of the whole Stockholm thing. “You need to get out of this bed, or I’m going to end up fucking you,” he grits out.
I sit there for a second.
“You’re not ready for that. Now shower and get dressed. I’ll see you downstairs in the kitchen in twenty minutes.” He steps back from the bed. “Don’t make me come looking for you. I enjoy the chase far more than you’ll ever know.”
With that, he’s back out the door, Heirloom jumps down and follows him. Once he’s gone, I come back to my senses. I have to keep space between me and that man. When he’s around, I forget things and then want other things. He’s dangerous in more ways than one.
Quickly, I grab the clothes from the nightstand and rush into the bathroom. I shower and use some supplies he’d clearly left out for me. Does he have female clothes lying around or something? That thought has me poking around in his closet after I’m done getting cleaned up and dressed.
There are only male clothes hanging from the rack. I open some of the draws that line the closet and find the same. I wish I could say I’m impressed, but cleaning places like this is nothing new to me. I’ve only noticed that Avery has more antiques and artwork than others do.
“Jackpot,” I say when one drawer is loaded with all kinds of watches. You were witness to him snapping a man’s neck with one hand. Are you really going to try to steal something after that? my mind chides me.
I bite my bottom lip and think it over, only taking one watch as my eyes catch on a blue velvet box. I go for it next, opening it. My mouth falls open when I see a giant diamond ring in the shape of a teardrop. I can tell from the band that it too is antique, but it’s without doubt a wedding ring. Why does he have this? Is he about to propose to someone?
Over my dead body. That thought flutters through my head. I toss it out because that would be easy for Avery to make possible. So instead, I pluck the ring out of the box and close it before putting it back. I return the watch, because it would be more noticeable if missing. I slip the ring into the pocket of the shorts he’d laid out for me. They’d fit perfectly as did the soft pink blouse.
When I hit the bottom step, I smell bacon and cinnamon. I follow the yummy smell into the kitchen, where I find Avery speaking to Mr. Lou while drinking a cup of coffee at the giant kitchen island. Mrs. Lou is at the stove still preparing breakfast. They all turn to glance my way when I enter the room.
Avery stands from his chair, making his way over to me. Again, he leans down and kisses me. What the hell? He keeps saying that I’m a thief, but he’s the true thief here. He’s always stealing kisses from me. I let out a small moan when he pulls my body flush to his. He’s so damn warm, and I have no clue why I have this sense of safeness around him. I should be terrified.
“Breakfast is almost done.” Mrs. Lou cuts into our small makeout session. I jump back away from Avery. He holds up the ring I’d slipped into my pocket. That sneaky bastard. Who the hell is this man?
“Hey, I stole that fair and square,” I huff.
“No need to steal it, little thief. It’s yours.” He grabs my wrist, lifting my hand and slipping the ring on my finger. My wedding ring finger. It fits as perfectly as the clothes on me.
“What does that mean?” My heart starts to race.
“I think you know what that means.”
I shake my head no, 'cause I don’t.
“After last night, there really is no choice.” He’s marrying me to keep me quiet?
I suppose that answers some of my questions as to who the hell this man is. He’s not only a crazy sociopath, but he’s going to be my husband. I know that for a fact.
The men around here always get what they want, and for some reason, Avery Harbin wants me.