All Souls' Night - Renee Rose Page 0,38

onto the rocks, what is his view of, dirt?

We walk down the curved staircase and around to a heavy wooden door. He opens it and pulls me in. Complete blackness surrounds me. I can’t see anything. I take a deep breath. The air is damp, cold. I shiver.

“Humidifier.” He reads my thoughts again. The humidifier in itself isn’t strange, a lot of people sleep with humidifiers running. The air is damp enough in Washington State that we don’t need them there, but my cousin in Colorado had one installed that runs through her full house.

We are walking again. I still can’t see anything, not even my hand in front of my face. “Ouch!” I stumble into something. The foot of the bed.

“It is a California king bed, Butterfly. It is the only thing in the room.”

“Where is the light switch?”

“There isn’t one.”

“The windows?”

“None.”

“So… you just sleep in a room with just a bed? Nothing else?”

“There are no windows in here. No light source. It has its own thermostat. I keep it cold and moist. These are the conditions I sleep best in. I can’t expect you to sleep with me, these conditions aren’t for everyone. I will make love to you, tuck you in and retire to my chamber. Do you know, back in the day, men and women, even married, didn’t sleep in the same bed? It isn’t that different of an arrangement.”

There are chills going up my spine, and it isn’t from the temperature. The room is closing in on me, the feeling of claustrophobia is squeezing around me like an iron fist. I can’t see anything, it feels like I am in a dungeon or a prison cell. I want to get out of here as fast as I can, but I am disorientated, I don’t know where the door is. I feel myself being lifted in his strong arms, he’s carrying me out of the room.

I blink twice, a third time, letting my eyes get accustomed to the light in the hallway. “When I wake from my rest, I come this way.” He puts me back on my feet, takes my hand again, and leads me to the door next to the room we just exited.

“This should make you more comfortable.” He flips on the light switch. The room is gorgeous. A huge four-poster red mahogany bed sits in the middle of the room, with matching furniture surrounding it. There’s a beautiful leather couch against one side of the wall.

“There is a walk-in closet over there with my clothes in it, and the master bathroom is through that door.” Bentley gives me the tour. “This is where you would assume I am sleeping, if I hadn’t told you. There’s a hidden door in the walk-in that connects to where I sleep. I can sneak in and out of it…”

“I wouldn’t want that. I don’t want you to sneak around or hide things from me, ever again. Please promise, no more secrets.”

“Butterfly,” he takes my hands in his and looks at me, “I can’t promise no more secrets ever. There might be times where I have to keep a secret for your safety, or because of work. But, I can promise you that to the best of my ability, I will always be truthful with you. Does that work?”

His pleas hurt my heart. My strong, strict dominant has never pleaded with me for anything. He has always been very demanding, never asking. Here, he is asking me for understanding and grace. I nod my acceptance. Truth be told, I love him.

“You can sleep in here or in the room I designed specifically for you. If neither of those work, we can remodel a room of your choice. If you ever get comfortable enough to sleep in there, that is fine. If not, I won’t be upset.”

“There are so many choices. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you’re a billionaire. I’m just trying to make enough money to pay off my student loans and have a comfortable living. Being a successful journalist has been important to me for so long, even though I will never make a hundredth of what you have, it has never been about the money to me.”

He chuckles. “What you do with your life is important, yes, Butterfly. The most important part of life isn’t how much money you make, or how far up the corporate ladder you get, or how much success you have in the workplace. The