She leads me down the stairs on the opposite side of the landing. They lead down to a section of the house I didn’t see before. This part feels older, and the decoration is more fitting to the period style of the house.
Ehlga shows me into a grand dining room fit for royalty or some A-list celebrity. There I meet Desmier’s scrutinizing stare.
Today, he’s wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He’s dressed like he’s going to work in an office.
Tearing my gaze away from his, I look around the room and take in the oil paintings of pirate ships and beautiful landscapes. There is a row of antique plates on one wall with images of ducks.
The large, long mahogany table holds a delicious spread of pastries that remind me I’m starving, but when I return my gaze to the dangerously handsome man sitting at the head, my appetite disappears.
“Sit here.” He points to the chair next to him.
Pulling in a deep breath, I make my way over and lower myself into the cushioned seat.
Ehlga leaves us, but the door is still open, and I can hear people milling about.
I keep my breathing measured so I can think about all the things I need to ask. This is an opportunity for me to talk, too. And surely, there’s no way he can think it’s acceptable for me to blindly follow along with this charade without more information than he’s given me.
“Sleep well?” He sets his elbows on the table.
My eyes flick down to the tattoo of the rune on his wrist. “As good as can be.”
He sits back and stares at me. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
That makes me want to eat even less than I did before. “What will I need my strength for? You do realize you haven’t actually told me what you plan to do to me, except for this ridiculous notion of marrying me.”
“Why is it so ridiculous? Your marriage to my brother was arranged.”
“Yes, but I’ve known him all my life. There’s a massive difference.” And I know Viktor’s not psychotic. This guy is. “He also didn’t treat me like an animal.”
Desmier chuckles, bringing a hand to his temple. “Good for him. Sounds like a real gentleman. I can assure you, I’m nothing of the sort.”
I want to tell him I could have guessed that without being given any clues, but I think better of it. He has the type of arrogance that’s deadly, and I’m no match for it.
He reaches down next to him and lifts a little bag I recognize instantly. It’s one of the bags I took to Grantham Hall. It has my personal things inside, like my phone.
My God, I completely forgot about my phone. What kind of girl does that?
My phone is something I check a hundred times a day, so I can’t believe I haven’t even thought of it once during the time I’ve been here.
Instead of giving me the bag, Desmier opens it and takes out the little box of my contraceptive pills. Since he knew to find it in the little secret pocket, I assume he’s searched through my bag and has looked through my things.
My blood boils when he flips the lid of the box open and takes out the blister packet containing my pills.
“What are you doing?”
“The days are all mixed up.”
“What’s your point?” I don’t know why he’s concerned with such a thing. Not keeping track of dates is a bad habit of mine and the same reason diaries and calendars don’t work with me. It’s not a problem for my pills because I take one a day religiously.
“Did you take yesterday’s pill?”
“Why is that any of your business?”
“Everything you do is now my business, and I don’t want other miniature problems on our hands.”
Oh my God, I’m so naïve. Of course, he’s so concerned about my pills because he doesn’t want me to get pregnant.
The light of lust burning in his eyes sparks thoughts of him taking me in the hardcore way he said he would. Quickly, before it can take root in my mind, I push the explicit image away.