Wishing Well(43)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Vincent


Staying away from Penelope following our meeting in the garden was far more difficult than it should have been. I was a man acclimated to handling women, a seducer who had grown tired of the easy games, yet with that particular woman I couldn’t quite rid myself of a constant question of whether or not she’d accept my invitation and take me to her bed.

Seeing her in the halls of Wishing Well wasn’t easy, watching her as she pushed her housekeeping cart, and spent her time polishing and sweeping, her heart shaped ass bouncing with every step and every swipe of cloth on some soiled surface. It amused me far too much when I’d pass by and see her eyes tracking my path, the shy smiles she gave me that I never returned. It was always more fun to keep a woman guessing.

To pass those days without giving in to my need to taste her, I spent some time visiting my other hotels and properties that would never bring me as much joy as Wishing Well. Several nights, I’d taken different women to bed when I wasn’t within easy view of a young woman still making up her mind. None of those women could please me. They were too easy. Too greedy. Too experienced for what I had in mind.

Only Penelope would satisfy that craving inside me, only her wide eyes, her startled gasps, her introduction into a lifestyle that would test her every boundary and make her mine.

One day remained before the night of the ball and I was seated at my desk in my office at Wishing Well when my door popped open and John peeked his head inside. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Is there a problem?” I asked, my eyes focused on financial documents that were giving me a massive headache.

“It’s Maurice,” he stated calmly as he shut the door behind him. “He’s chased off another counselor.”

Sitting back in my seat, I released a heavy sigh. “Is the counselor injured in any way?”

John shook his head, “No. This one didn’t get close enough for Maurice to touch, but before leaving the hotel, she told me that Maurice was demanding to speak to you. She claimed he was complaining that he hasn’t been let out of the basement for over a week. He’s refused to work with anybody until you go down to see him.”

Pinching the skin between my eyes, I clenched my teeth. After the night in the garden when Penelope found both Maurice and I near the well, I’d been avoiding my brother. He was adamant that I give him Penelope as if she were some gift, but I refused to surrender the girl just so he could destroy her as easily as he had others. “I’ll go see him, John. Thank you for letting me know.”

Inclining his head, John left without saying another word. I spent several minutes in the silence of my office before finding the strength to leave my seat and head down to the basement to face my brother.

Stepping into the entryway that was as dark and elegant as a rich man’s tomb, I noticed the lights had been turned off for the sake of the flame sconces, the dancing shadows cutting across Maurice’s face where he sat on the brown leather sofa waiting for me.

“I want her,” he barked, taking no time to jump back to the last argument we’d had following that night in the garden.

Patiently, I responded, “I’ve already told you, she’s not that type of girl. You’ll end up killing her when she fights back. I can’t afford to lose another employee, Maurice. The bodies are stacking up.”

Rage twisted his expression. “Her,” he said simply, refusing to listen to anything I was saying.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, I stared at him, careful not to show my frustration. He took what he considered to be rejection too close to heart and could react without thinking. “This is why I haven’t taken you up to the garden for a week. You’ll need to let her go. How can I trust you not to make a scene if you won’t even calm down while in your cage? You chased another counselor away.”

“And I’ll keep doing it until you let me have her. I won’t kill her.” His voice lowered in volume as if he were speaking to himself and not me. “I won’t.”

Lifting his green eyes to mine, he argued, “The others were an accident.”

My heart squeezed at the sorrow of his tone. Maurice never could control himself. It wasn’t his fault those accidents happened. For as intelligent as he was with formal education, he was terrible when it came to emotion or social norms. It’s why we had to keep him locked up like an animal. He didn’t know any better. “I know,” I answered. “Which is why you have to trust me that Penelope is the wrong woman for you.”

What I didn’t tell him was that a large part of my refusal was the fact that I wanted Penelope for myself. I could never reveal that particular truth. It would drive him to violence.

It broke my heart to see his expression fall, to see the shame Maurice felt. Regardless of how difficult a problem he had been in my life, I truly loved my brother.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, moving across the room to take a seat next to him. He trained his eyes on the elevator doors, refusing to meet mine. Filling the silence, I offered, “I can find someone else. You just need to give me a few days. The annual masquerade ball is tomorrow and it’s taking up most of my time, but after it’s over, I’ll find you another woman. Okay?”

“D’accord ,” he answered, switching back to our native language.