Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,27

the mood strikes. If I see you pass by my office on your way to the library, and the urge to have you comes, I will follow you to that sweet smelling room and send you to your knees surrounded by my many first editions. I will sink into your tight throat and expect you to swallow what I give you, no matter who is around us. If I walk into the kitchen and see the curve of your ass as you bend over to take an apple from the crisper, I will hold you in that position, likely rip a hole in your pants rather than take them down, and I will fuck you to a place where you will not care that the cook and his assistant are witnessing the explosive act.”

When she shook her head, her gaze imploring him not to follow through on anything he’d just said, he dealt with her visible distress by laying a hand over her eyes so he couldn’t be affected.

“You are Lucian Fane’s pet, Yasmeen. That title is a threat in itself because it means any attention I am not giving my business interests will land on you. How fortunate pleasing your owner seems to come so naturally. I have yet to see you have to make a real effort.”

He brushed a kiss over her brow to get one last taste of her on his lips then went for the door, warning over his shoulder, “But that time will come.”

♦ ♦ ♦

After a shower spent wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into, Yasmeen followed her warden’s instructions and dressed comfortably. From the fully stocked closet of items all in her size, she chose a pair of black leggings, black leather boots with a three-inch heel, and a warm, bulky knit in winter-white.

You are Lucian Fane’s pet.

She was gnawing on her lip as she hesitantly left the security of the bedroom, hating that she was no longer outraged by the title. When he claimed he was her owner, her hair sprang up. But when he called her his pet, she was beginning to like it. Both reflected ownership, but to her, being a pet meant he’d chosen her for companionship out of scores of others. Being owned, well, that was all about control and she wasn’t looking to be some wealthy mobster’s puppet, sexual or otherwise.

The way in which the tenderness between her legs thumped with a needy beat proved her a liar, but she pretended not to feel it. She had to find a phone. She needed Miranda’s ear. Badly.

She didn’t get the chance to unload her problems on her best friend, but Yasmeen did get hopelessly lost roaming the deserted hallways that seemed to grow darker and quieter by the second. By the time she caught a whiff of freshly baked bread and followed the delicious aroma down a narrow set of stairs—that weren’t the ones she and Lucian had used earlier—she was furious and trying not to hyperventilate. If there was anything she hated more than the dark, it was being alone in the dark.

She entered a massive kitchen that looked as if it had been plucked off a lot at Universal Studios. Of course, the medieval set with its mix of stone walls and modern appliances was staffed with a couple of grumpy-looking cooks.

“Excuse me. Hello.” The two older men turned to stare at her, an eight-burner gas stovetop behind them. “The bread smells heavenly,” she said first as her stomach growled loudly. She was too upset to care that they must have heard it. “Could you tell me where I would find our—” She slammed her lips shut, catching herself before giving Lucian that stupid fucking label. “I’m looking for Lucian. Do you know where he is?”

They looked at each other and shrugged a little before coming back to her. One of them rubbed his big belly. His small smile made her skin crawl. Of course, no English.

After receiving a couple of hated once-overs, the smiling one licking his lips as he tried to see her breasts through her sweater, she left without another word. Fucking idiots.

She spent another fifteen awful minutes wandered, trying locked doors and looking through stained-glass windows that showed nothing but darkness outside so that she couldn’t even tell if she was at the front or back of the fortress. She attempted to distract herself by wondering if her neglectful host meant to give her a room of her own during her