Willing Captive(11)

We’re gonna be spending a lot of time together? …Well shit.

His eyes bore into mine, his brow bunched in a way that I know he’s expecting me to say something nasty. If I were more myself, I probably would, too. But right now, I’m so damn tired that sarcasm evades me. That’s pretty damn tired, if you ask me. My eyes are suddenly heavy, too. I puff out a long breath. “Whatever, boss man. Can you please show me where my room is? I need a shower and sleep.”

He steps towards me and reaches for my arm. I flinch back and his brow furrows. I tell him, “Don’t do that. I’m not going to run and I’m sick of being manhandled. Just escort me, please.”

His arm still outstretched, he nods once, and drops it before walking ahead of me. “Follow me.”

Following him up the stairs, I can’t help but look around. All the rooms are open and immaculate. The beds are made, the bathrooms are sparkling, and the windows gleam. This place is beautiful and has such a homey feel to it. I suppose it really doesn’t matter. I’m not fooled. I know what this place is. You can dress a prison cell any way you like, but it’s still a prison cell. Speaking of cells, I need to get my hands on a cell phone and I know Nox has one. Being sly as I can, I ask innocently, “So where do you sleep?”

His eyebrows raise in question. Once I realize how that question could’ve been construed, I flush bright pink but don’t say a thing. His gaze falls to my cheeks and he grins. “I sleep in the west wing with the rest of the guys. You’ll be in the east wing with Boo since she’s the only other woman here. I should warn you, though, that you won’t get much privacy while you’re here. If I see your bedroom door closed, I don’t care if you’re half naked or not, I will open it. The only place you’ll get some consideration is in the bathroom and while you’re in there, you’ll be timed. You’ve been warned. I don’t like closed doors. Locked doors in this house get broken down.”

My heart skips at that statement. Oh, I really don’t like it.

What choice do you have?

I’d say none and then some. When I walk in front of one room in particular, I stop and stare with a gaping mouth. Nox walks ahead of me and up the hall where he announces, “This is your room.”

Obviously having noticed I’m not behind him anymore, it takes a few moments, but he clears his throat right at my back. I don’t look to him. I can’t. Literally. I’m a moth drawn to a flame. This room is…is beautiful. I’ve found my temporary happy place . I feel his curious gaze on me and answer his unasked question. “It’s beautiful.” This comes out strained.

Looking over my head and into the room, Nox sighs. Not an annoyed sigh but more of a relaxed sigh. “Yeah. I like it too.”

Books everywhere . The walls are lined with them. I’m not talking a couple of book cases, but wall-to-wall books. And it’s not like it’s a small room either; it could double as a ballroom. The walls are actually shelved and I can’t see any free space. I wonder aloud in awe, “How many books do you think there are?”

His voice carries a hint of amusement when he replies, “At least ten thousand.”

And my ovaries explode .

Slightly weak-kneed, I hold onto the doorframe and choke out, “Wow.”

I know it’s highly unusual for people to get this excited over books. But if you’re a reader, you get me . I don’t need movies. I don’t need TV. But books…I can’t live without books. To me, a book is better than any movie. All I need is a good book, my imagination, and I am set free. I’m in literature heaven. And thank God, this may be the only thing that keeps me sane while we’re here.

“You’ll have plenty of time to read while you’re here. C’mon.” With loose hands on my hips, he pushes me along. I look back in the doorway one last time and mouth ‘I love you.’

Oh, screw sleep. I have to explore that room once I’m unstinky.

He squeezes my hips to stop me from walking and pushes me left into a bedroom.

It’s beautiful.

I feel the concealed amusement coming off Nox in waves. And I get it. He thinks I’m going to hate this room. Well, screw you, buddy, because I so don’t. I know I may not look like a girly-girl but the truth is, I don’t really mind that stuff; I just can’t be bothered with it normally. I’m usually so busy with work, that all I want to do when I get home is curl up on the sofa with a good book.

Reading trumps anything.

On occasion, I like to listen to music of my mp3 player, but I don’t have it with me, so I guess reading is all I have. And I’ll take it. Gladly.

Walking forward, I face-plant on my bed with a huge sigh. Rolling over, I stare up at the top of the soft pink four-poster bed. The window has been left open, no doubt to try to get rid of the musty, unoccupied smell, and I watch as the wind moves the sheer draping.

I really do like this bed.

Sitting up, I look around at my new room. It’s simple. It’s tidy. It’s similar to my old room at what I like to call the ‘normal’ house, which is, of course, the house we lived in before dad moved us into the mansion formerly known as Alcatraz two-point-oh.

There is an open door that I can see leads to a sparkling bathroom with a shower. Next to the bed is a white wooden night stand; there’s a small walk-in closet and a smallish white dresser. Which suddenly reminds me, “I like the room. Thank you. But what am I going to do for clothes?”