The Boss (Chateau Book 3) Page 4

  Her chin tilted down to her hands in her lap.

  “I’m everything you want. Everything you deserve.”

  A sarcastic burst of air came from her throat, along with a slight shake of her head.

  My eyes narrowed on her face.

  “You might be right about that second part…”

  My fascination with her only grew. “Come with me.”

  She lifted her chin and looked at me.

  “When I leave. Come with me.” I could take her away from this place. Instead of a cabin, she would have a palace. Instead of a guard, she would have a butler. Instead of these weathered clothes, she would have the finest material kissing her skin. “Let me give you what I’ve promised.”

  The temptation returned again, staying a little longer this time, but it faded too. “No.”

  I gave her a way out—and she said no. “Why?”

  She shook her head and looked down again. “I won’t leave my sister here…alone. You take us both, or you don’t take me at all.”

  Disappointment flushed into the veins of my hands, and I resisted the urge to allow my fingers to curl into fists. I’d just opened the door to a life she could only dream of, but all she could think about was that unremarkable woman. “I don’t negotiate.”

  “Then don’t expect my answer to change.”

  Five

  The Smile of a Boy

  Melanie

  Days blurred together. Just like when the wind kicked up and blew snow everywhere, it made our surroundings blurry. Everything was out of focus. Everything was an opaque combination of faded colors. The only reason we knew the days of the week was because of the weekly Red Snow. It was our archaic form of a calendar.

  I sat at the bench and worked like I did every other day, glancing across the clearing to see Raven carrying the boxes to the table. Adequate nourishment had made her strong once again, and her throat seemed to have healed completely. It was a calm existence, work, sleep, repeat.

  If it weren’t for the Red Snow, it wouldn’t be that bad.

  But it constantly hung over our heads, lingered just behind our shoulders, haunted each of us every Thursday night. I never slept well on Thursdays. Not because I believed I would be next, but because someone would be next. It would happen—and there was nothing we could do about it.

  The boss stopped coming to my cabin.

  He was either busy…or I’d pissed him off.

  Probably pissed him off.

  I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t tempted by his offer. I was…deeply. To get out of the cold, to descend into a life of riches and luxury, to have a warm bed made up with satin sheets, have gourmet food whenever I wished… Who wouldn’t want that? When he looked the other way, I could run.

  But where would I go?

  Even if I never ran, it was better than being here.

  But I could never leave my sister behind. I could never enjoy any of the amenities he described when I knew she was stuck out here, her only ally the guard who seemed to care whether she lived or died.

  There was nothing I could do for her. I should just take the offer and run.

  But I’d rather work my hands bloody every day in the cold and look up to see my sister there.

  To see her face.

  Another blizzard came into the camp, howling outside the cabin with shrieks that couldn’t be drowned out by the fire. Every day after work, my fireplace was roaring with flames, my dinner was delivered, but it was different from what I used to have.

  It was steak, potatoes, corn, asparagus, fresh bread, a glass of wine, and a slice of pie.

  I imagined he was eating the same thing—so we were still connected even when he didn’t come to me. He tempted me with breadcrumbs, with fine delicacies the other girls could never have. The guards couldn’t even have them.

  I continued to work in the clearing, but I felt like one of the most powerful people in that camp. I was never touched, the guards never looked at me, my cabin was always prepped for my arrival, and he continued to prove that he could give me so much more.

  If I said yes.

  When the blizzard passed, I was given a shovel and put to work with everyone else. Digging the shovel into the snow and hauling the powder away was much more physically demanding than sitting on the bench and processing the cocaine, so I dreaded doing it. It gave me a workout that I’d never had in my life, leaving me sore for two days afterward.

  Hours into the day, Raven found me.

  Discreetly, she came closer and closer, moving into earshot. “You okay?”

  She always checked on me first. “Yeah, I’m fine. What about you?” I got a pile of snow in my shovel and carried it to the edge, while she did the same.

  “I’m going to get us out of here, okay?”

  I believed my sister was capable of anything, even the impossible, but I didn’t believe that. I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t want to sabotage her hope. It was probably the only reason she was still going, the fantasy of freedom.

  “I’ve been gathering supplies. When I’ve got everything, we’ll go.”

  I did my best not to have a reaction so the guards wouldn’t realize we were talking. “Raven, what do you mean—”

  “We’re going to run for it, okay?”

  “Run where?” I dropped my head as I shoved the shovel into the snow, covering my reaction by letting my hood tilt then cover the back of my head. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. We’ll die out there—”

  “I heard a bell.”

  “A bell?”

  “Yes. On the wind. I know it’s there.”

  I lifted the shovel out of the snow and stared at my sister, seeing the fearlessness in her eyes. “We’re going to get caught.”

  “We’ve got to try, alright? I’d rather try and die than live like this for god knows how long.” She lifted her shovel from the snow and carried it to the clearing. “Where’s your cabin?”

  “Raven, I—”

  “Melanie, I’m not leaving unless you come with me. Be brave, okay?”

  I carried my shovel to the edge of the clearing and tossed the snow onto the pile. I’d done my best to convince the boss to take my sister too, but he wasn’t just stubborn, but uncompromising. If Raven didn’t at least try to escape, she would stay here until her neck was in that noose. “Is your guard helping you?”

  “Kinda…in a way. You need to be prepared at a moment’s notice. You need to be prepared to run like our lives depend on it—because they do.”

  When I returned to the cabin at sundown, I stepped into the room and immediately shed my coat, because the hard work had actually made me warm, made me sweat throughout the day. The fireplace was burning, and my dinner was on the bed. I pulled off my jacket and tossed it on the floor. Then I reached for my shirt to pull it over my head.

  “Be aware of your surroundings.”

  I dropped my shirt back down then clutched my chest as I turned to look at him in the armchair behind me, sitting there in his long-sleeved black shirt and black pants. His bomber jacket was thrown over the couch. It took me a few seconds to catch my breath.

  He grabbed his glass of scotch and took a drink, his deep-brown eyes glued to my figure. His eyes were almost the same color as the contents of his glass, like automobile oil with an earthy hue. His eyes roamed over my figure as he licked away the drop that he missed. “Continue.”

  My hair was caked with sweat, and my clothes were uncomfortable because they were soiled with a hard day’s work. As hungry as I was, what I really wanted was a shower. There was a lone tub in the corner with a shower curtain. I used to take baths when I couldn’t figure out how to get the fire going. “I’d like to take a shower.”

  He raised his glass and slightly gestured toward the tub. He was exactly the same each time we interacted, possessing a quiet hostility with clipped responses. There were no good moods or bad moods.

  “Do you mind coming back later?”

  His only response was taking a drink o
f his scotch.

  “Then can you at least look away?”

  “No.”

  I released an annoyed sigh, because I was so uncomfortable in my own skin that I really wanted to rinse off.

  He drank his scotch and watched me.

  I grabbed my towel and did a quick change, dropping my clothes next to my bed then moving to the tub, a black towel wrapped around my body. I turned on the shower head and waited for the water to get warm.

  He held his glass but didn’t take a drink, his eyes piercing me like my appearance in that towel was enough to fuel his attraction. His desire was palpable, somehow in the air like the steam from the shower. It was just a piece of cotton, but he looked at it like it was lingerie.

  I got behind the curtain and draped the towel over the edge. The warm water hit me, and I felt all my muscles relax with the heat, felt the clumps of sweat leave my scalp and the roots of my long hair. With the curtain closed shut, I could forget he was there, have a moment to myself after the long day.

  When I was finished, I dried off as best I could before I grabbed the clothes I brought with me. I put on the gray pants and the black tank top before I wrapped my hair in the towel. Then I opened the curtain and stepped out.

  His look had only intensified in the meantime. His eyes were borderline angry, and one hand had tightened into a fist on the armrest. It was so startling that I actually stilled before I continued to move to the bed.

  His eyes followed me.

  I sat on the edge then combed out my wet hair so it would be free of tangles.

  “You have a beautiful silhouette.”

  My eyes immediately went to the curtain, imagining the light from the fire creating a distinct shadow of my body, like it was film on a projector. That was something I hadn’t considered.

  It didn’t seem that erotic, but he looked at me like it took all his strength to stay in that chair.

  He was the most dangerous man on this planet, but I somehow felt safe in his presence, even when I was wrapped in a thin towel. He had the physical authority to force me to do whatever he wanted, but he never tried. He always asked for permission, and when he was denied, he respected that decision. He was the reason I was there in the first place, but he also gave me more power than anyone ever had in my life. When he’d first come in here, I sobbed because I thought I was about to be raped. But I was given more respect than any other man had shown me.

  If they could get away with it, most men would do the unthinkable. Without the law and the police, without retribution, they probably would regularly force women against their will. The boss had nothing to keep him accountable, no repercussions whatsoever, but he still didn’t do it. That actually implied a lot about his character.

  I pulled the tray of food toward me. “Why won’t you do it?”

  He repositioned his head slightly, but his gaze never flicked away. One hand remained on the empty glass, which he must have consumed while I was in the shower. “Rape and sex are two different things. Rape is about taking. Sex is about giving. I want to give you things, chérie.”

  It was a question I shouldn’t have asked, but his answer put me further at ease.

  “I want to make you feel beautiful. I want you to give yourself to me completely. I want to make you come. I can’t do those things if it’s not mutual. We can’t have the passion or the fire unless you want me too.”

  “I’ll never want you.”

  A subtle smile moved on to his lips. It only lasted for a few seconds before it disappeared.

  I knew what that look meant.

  He didn’t believe me.

  When I entered my cabin the next evening, I made sure to take in the entire room.

  My tray of food was there, filet mignon with a cream sauce and a side of pasta with veggies. There was also a thick piece of chocolate cake and madeleine cookies. A stack of books was on my nightstand.

  He was there too.

  Sitting in his armchair, his empty plate on the end table beside him. A bottle of scotch was next to him, along with a half-empty glass. The most striking thing about him was his bare chest.

  His big, strong, muscular bare chest.

  His pectoral muscles were each the size of a plate, the muscles defined and wide, cut into his flesh with a sharp knife. Now that he was shirtless, it was easy to see the way his strong body came together, the way his bulging arms connected to his powerful shoulders, the way those connected to this enormous chest that looked like the concrete wall of a parking garage. He was relaxed in a seated position, but his stomach was so naturally tight that it was flat as a board. The grooves of his eight-pack were just as deep, as if an artist had taken a knife and dragged it through his flesh, cutting into his body like it was the trunk of a tree. He was in sweatpants instead of jeans, low on his hips, showing those deep lines over his hips. He’d just eaten his dinner, and his stomach was still a flat surface.

  I flinched at his appearance. I was used to seeing him decked out in black, used to discerning his strength through the tightness of his clothing. Now I could see his slightly tanned skin, a golden color to his complexion. His jawline didn’t have a shadow, and his hair was a little shorter like he’d gotten annoyed with the length and shaved it off.

  His eyes were the same as always. Dark. Angry. Authoritative.

  I moved to my bed, where my tray sat, feeling timid all over again.

  His chin was propped on his closed knuckles. Veins like rivers flowed from the back of his hand, along the mountains and valley of his arms, over his shoulders, and then up his neck. Thick like a horse but cut like a marathon runner, he was the strongest man I’d ever laid eyes on. There had never been a man in my life who looked anything like him, even the best ones. He was a different cut of premium meat, composed of a substance harder than steel.

  I couldn’t look away because I was both intimidated and mesmerized.

  He didn’t reach for his drink. His eyes were reserved for me, like I was the one half naked. After a few minutes of the fire burning in the hearth, of the rising intensity of his presence, he spoke. “Let me take you to bed, chérie.”

  I shifted my gaze away and forced myself to stop staring.

  He grabbed his glass and took a drink.

  The more time I spent with him, the less I viewed him as the boss, the man in charge of this hellhole. He became someone else entirely. Now he was this sexy stranger I should stay away from, but his magnetism continued to draw me in, deeper and deeper, into an invisible black hole from which there was no escape. Even if I could run out the door and hide in the wilderness, his pull would still reach me, because it was innate. His branding iron had seared me, and that mark would be implanted in my skin forever. Without touching me, he had felt me everywhere. Without sharing a kiss, he had tasted me everywhere. His fingertips were deep under my skin, wrapped around my bones. “Let my sister go, and I will.” His desire was the only leverage I had. It was a sacrifice I’d make for her, especially since it didn’t feel like that much of a sacrifice.

  “I will say this once more and never repeat it. I don’t negotiate. This—” his eyes burned into me further “—is irrelevant to the world outside this cabin. My rules are not broken. Your sister is stuck here forever. There is nothing you can do to negotiate her freedom. You should take my offer and save yourself.”

  I looked at him again, feeling powerless once more. He gave me that power, but then he also took it away. “Why would I want to bed the man who’s keeping my sister captive?”

  “She was never a target of the Hunters. You were. The only reason she’s here is because you two were together. Blame me for her captivity if you must, but I had nothing to do with it. I can’t let her go because it will cause chaos in this camp.”

  “Then why can you let me go?”

  He dropped his hand from his chin and straightened. “I said nothing about letting you go.”

  I shifted my gaze away, the heat burning my throat, the overwhelming weight suddenly hitting my
shoulders and causing my back to bend. It was on my chest, making it hard to breathe, and the pain was so sharp that it made me whimper. Tears sprung to my eyes as my body faced what my mind couldn’t.

  She would never forgive me.

  And she shouldn’t.

  My hand cupped my mouth as I started to cry, seeing the flames begin to blur as the moisture coated my vision. Flashbacks of that night came back to me, me with the two men who’d bought my drinks throughout the night, and Raven standing there…telling me not to go. I basically told her to fuck off. Girl, you need to chill. Your mind is playing tricks on you. I cried harder, remembering the look on her face as I said that. Stop telling me what to do. I’m a big girl who doesn’t need you to take care of me anymore.

  Her response to that sealed my fate, because then I just went with them out of spite. Obviously, I still do need to take care of you because these guys have got psycho written all over them, and you’re too stupid to see that. I’m sick of this shit, Melanie. I’m sick of you making stupid decision after stupid decision. I’m telling you, I saw that motherfucker outside our apartment, and he’s gonna put you in an oil barrel or something. There’re a million guys out there, you’ll find someone new tomorrow. I covered my face with both hands, sobbing harder, hating myself more as the memory haunted me.