Life was like a board game. Strategy was everything. She was my key.
“Hello, Enissa,” I said, leaving my hand out for her to take.
She wiped her palms down her sides before returning my gesture. Her hand slipped into mine, and immediately energy zipped through me. It felt like static electricity shock but sharper.
Instinctively, I yanked without releasing, forcing her to fall toward me. With my other hand, I held her against me as I fought the multitude of things I happened to be feeling.
Reacting to my forcefulness, she pressed her palm to my chest and pushed off me.
“You are not Charles Beacon,” she stated firmly while pulling her hand from mine.
I nodded but didn’t elaborate on who I was. Well, at least she knew who she was doing business with. I had wondered if she really knew she signed her life away to a senior citizen. I had heard of those age-gap fantasies, but of everything I learned of Enissa Mitchell, she wasn’t chasing a man for a happily ever after. No, she had reasons, valid ones to enter into this agreement. I actually found a little admiration inside of me for the woman and her dedication to family.
It was something you didn’t see much of these days.
“When will he arrive?”
Ahhh, she wanted to stick to business. Another admirable trait. It was rare to find people determined to keep their word in today’s world, where everyone looked for a loophole or an easier way out. The path of least resistance wasn’t always best.
“In a month, maybe two. That all depends on you.”
Her faced paled. She shook her head and then looked around like she was trying to find an escape. There would be no leaving for her … not until I said so.
“You’re safe with me, Enissa,” I said, aiming for reassurance.
She didn’t meet my gaze, and I swore she muttered under her breath, “I’m not safe with anyone.”
Curious statement she made, even if she wasn’t expecting me to hear it. Charles Beacon didn’t intend her any physical harm that I knew of. While I was certain she felt vulnerable in her situation, I didn’t like her statement. Not feeling safe.
She lived a life with two loving parents. Nothing I dug up gave any indication she was facing any form of abuse. Until this agreement, Enissa Mitchell lived a drama-free, textbook life. The kind of shit kids like me dreamed about.
“What is expected of me until that time? Are you the butler? My security?”
I paused to study her. I could ease her tension.
Easily.
Except, I wasn’t that kind of man.
And this whole situation, well, it wasn’t even about her anymore. She just didn’t know that.
She stood in front of me with her shoulders square. While she didn’t make eye contact easily, she wasn’t avoiding my gaze in a way that screamed insecurity. No, her demeanor was more put off like she would remain strong no matter what came next.
“I’m the man to break you,” I told her honestly.
Technically, that was Charles Beacon’s intention in tucking her away with a stranger for a month. I didn’t have a single intention of following his plan. I still figured she deserved the truth, though, and the truth was I would break her. Break her in ways she never knew she needed. Her breath hitched, causing her plump tits to rise and remain in place. For a moment, I actually craved her fear.
Alas, she gave me no satisfaction in any emotion or reaction beyond the slight shift in her breathing. Commendable … even if it was driving me nuts.
I imagined if I were to take my hand to her neck and press my thumb to her pulse spot, her heart would be racing. I waited for her to move. I waited for some sign that she understood what she agreed to with Charles Beacon.
Stock-still, she remained in place as if she was challenging me to what came next.
It made my cock hard.
She was fierce.
Her strength only made me question her situation more. Most women in her situation would show fear, humiliation, and desperation. She didn’t. In fact, she was harder to read than I anticipated.
She was a challenge.
And I fucking loved a good challenge.
“I’ll show you the house and to our room.” I smirked, waiting for her to ask me about the reference to our room.
After all, she was not my ward. She was his.
She took the first step in front of me as if she was ready to take on the world; it was then it hit me.
She was not a possession of Charles Beacon’s. She was not some arrangement with the old fucker.
There were many things she was not.
And only one thing that I could say she currently was without a doubt.
That was…
Mine.
3
Enissa
His eyes stared at my ass up the entire flight of stairs. Truthfully, I had no clue where I was going. I simply wanted to escape the tension and power between us, so I moved past him into the entry.
It was this huge open space with a spiral staircase to the right in black iron. My attention went to that, and I moved. I didn’t care where I was headed. I wanted distance between us. I could feel his stare burning my flesh, but ignored it and stopped at the top and allowed him to go in front of me. Two wide doors stood in front of him, and as he pushed them open and stepped to the side, the room came to life.
This wasn’t just a bedroom. No, it had a huge seating area that looked out over the water. Windows lined one wall completely, giving a beautiful panoramic view of the ocean. The windows were currently wide open, and I felt myself instinctively inhale deeply.
The breeze came through, and I just knew if I were left alone, sleeping here would be peaceful. At one time, when I was a baby, my mother would put on the sounds of the ocean to get me to fall asleep. It did the trick every time even as I grew up.
A ginormous bed with four pillars sat in the center of the room facing the view. I’d bet it was absolutely breathtaking to see. There was an area with a couch, side tables, and a recliner to the right and two doors to the left.
My lips opened, but I stopped myself. I didn’t even know this man’s name. How was I supposed to ask him any questions?
“What’s your name?” I asked, going to the window and getting a bird’s eye view of the beach.
Something crossed his features, and I couldn’t read it as he answered, “Garrett.”
When I looked at him, I didn’t see a Garrett. I saw more of a Diesel or Hawk. Something with a punch. Garrett seemed too plain for all that was this man. Not that I’d ever tell him any of that.
“Okay, Garrett. The doors?” I pointed to my left.
“Bathroom and closet.”
Making my way there, I opened the first one to the left. The closet was about as big as half my house back home. The top racks were all empty, but the bottom had all different kinds of men’s clothing. “What, do you have something to wear every day of the year without doing laundry?” The words tumbled out of my mouth.
I heard a muffled chuckle, and as much as I wanted to turn around and see it, I didn’t.
“The top is all yours.”
“My clothes will take up this much”—I held my hands out about a foot—“room.”
“I saw you only had the one bag. Were you planning on shopping?”
Shopping? Was he serious? There was no money to pay for my mother’s illness and if there were, not one dime of it would go to me getting new clothes. I wasn’t going to share this information with him.