11
Mecca
As much as I hated to admit it, I was looking forward to seeing my husband. Although I had no prospect of fostering anything meaningful with him, I was glad that he was at least good to look at.
Honestly, there was never a Caucasian man that I had found myself interested in. Was I prejudiced? I didn’t think so, but I was willing to admit that I had stayed clear because of what was hammered in my head all my life about staying away from White men.
Now, here I was, in a situation where I was married to a man I was taught was supposed to be the facilitator of my downfall. As a young girl, I had believed it, but with the gaining of wisdom, my mind unlearned the foolishness. I still had my hang-ups, but thankfully, I was smart enough not to be as closed-minded as I once was.
As much as I hated thinking it, there was something about Arjen that drew me in, an attraction that I had denied since the day we met. I thought my type was tall, dark, and chocolate, so I shouldn’t have been attracted to Arjen in the least. So why the hell was I? It was a nagging question I hadn’t found an answer to yet, and it vexed the fuck out of me.
Our sleeping arrangements didn’t help things because I found myself doing strange shit throughout the night, like snuggling up to him and tossing my leg over his. I would snap awake and put some distance between us and he would pull me right back in and sling his arm around me. This morning his hard dick was poking me in the ass, and I didn’t even move away from him because I liked the shit.
I had avoided him in the waking hours, but like most situations in my life, it was time I manned the fuck up and faced my husband like the strong woman I had groomed myself to be.
There was no reason for me to arm my car once I stepped out. Arjen had given me the perfect spot inside the large garage, and it fit in perfectly with the rest of his fleet.
I glanced up and smiled, allowing the retinal scan to capture its image so I could enter the house. If Arjen thought I didn’t know about his state of the art alarm system, he had sadly underestimated my drive to be in the know.
My heels clicked differently on the expensive marble floor of Arjen’s house, now my house. I strutted through the kitchen and into the living room and spotted the guard posted up near the front door.
“Evening, Mrs. Vallin.”
“Good evening,” I spoke and gave a quick wave. The guard returned my wave as I headed towards the stairs. I sensed his eyes glued to my ass after I walked past, but I couldn’t blame him because I had a healthy dose and didn’t mind leaving a man smiling.
My abrupt stop and turn back jarred the guard, who attempted to divert his eyes, but failed miserably to hide where his gaze had been aimed. I had surprised him enough that his mouth had dropped open as he struggled for something to say.
When I walked towards him, he placed his hands behind his back like I was an approaching drill sergeant. I stepped to within a few feet of him.
“Can I ask you something, and you give me an honest answer?”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice shook with tension as he eased back a few steps to put space between us. What could possibly make this big imposing man so afraid of me?
“Why does it seem like all of you guys are afraid of me? Afraid to get anywhere near me.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he fought for a reply. He took another cautious step back and cleared his throat.
“If I tell you, ma’am, you can’t tell Loud, I mean, Mr. Vallin, that I told you.”
Loud?
“You have my word. This conversation stays between you and me.”
He took another deep breath as his gaze traveled up the stairs and remained for a long silent moment.
“Mr. Vallin said that we are not to physically touch you unless it’s a life and death situation, and if he catches any of us looking at you inappropriately, he’s going to kill us. Slowly.”
The guard’s serious gaze widened at my quick burst of laughter. This man couldn’t have been serious.
“And you believed him?”
He nodded, his head motioning quickly before his eyes darted back up those stairs.
“It’s true, ma’am. He’ll do it, and you would never know it was coming. Why do you think we call him Loud? Mr. Vallin doesn’t make threats he doesn’t follow through with.”
“Loud? Why do you call him Loud? He’s not a loud-mouth, so is it an acronym for something else?”
“Acronym and nickname. It stands for the, Lord of Untimely Death.”