Indebted - Piper Stone Page 0,12

then immediately walking into the room, closing the door behind him.

I remained chilled to the bone, incapable of rationalizing what had occurred what seemed like a lifetime ago. Just as a series of tremors forced me to fist my hands, my fingernails digging into my skin, the door opened once again.

“He’ll see you now. When he’s finished with you, I will return.” As I’d noticed before, he didn’t seem to be able to look me in the eye, his pasty white skin even paler than before.

Finished with me. The statement held far too many dark crevices, shadows threatening to swallow me whole. I took confident strides inside the room, although every bit of my bravado was false, even jumping when the door was shut behind me.

I didn’t seem Mr. Masters at first, the only light in the room coming through the slender openings in the two windows, the same style of depressing drapes covering both. Even the lamp positioned on the very corner of the stark, polished surface of the desk added little more than ambiance. I heard the rattling of my breath as it echoed in my ears, could feel the rapid beating of my heart. The only other sound was the constant ticking of an old-fashioned clock coming from some dark alcove.

After a few seconds, I allowed myself to gaze around the room. From what little I could see, everything was just as beautiful as every other location in the house, only devoid of a single bit of life. There were no photographs of family and friends, no stereo system or flat screen television. There were simply books in various sizes, neatly organized in the massive bookshelves.

Even the floor covering was melancholy; rusts and browns, forest greens and bitter orange swirling in violent strings of color. I found it impossible to take my eyes off the 3D-like pattern, almost sucked into some kind of puzzle as if the rug were coming to life before me.

“I see you find my Ziegler Mahal tapestry fascinating. I find that curious. Tell me, what do you see as you capture the design?”

I was almost floored at the sound of his voice; not only the deep baritone that wafted over me like a warm blanket but the distinct Irish accent as well. The combination was far too sensuous, evocative, leaving me aroused. I swung my head in the direction where I believed it came from, holding my breath. He was there, a man standing in the shadows, watching me.

Studying me.

His silhouette was barely illuminated, but I could easily tell he was a man of stature.

“I’m sorry?” I managed, realizing I was swaying slightly. Even from where I stood, I felt a dangerous vibe surrounding him.

“That was a simple question, Alessandra, and you are a highly intelligent woman. I will ask one more time in a slightly different manner and there will not be a third. What do you see in your mind’s eye as you capture the nuances of the design? Please take another look.”

I continued to have difficulty getting over his sultry tone even as I obeyed, gazing down at the swirling mass of colors. What was he trying to do? Was there a correct answer, a test of some kind? Within seconds, my imagination filled with renderings, images coming to life. I was breathless, my throat almost completely closed off as what appeared to be massive snakes slithering over each other, entangled masses of reptilian bodies hissing.

Shaken, I clawed my throat as the dancing creatures began to unfurl from each other, sliding dangerously close to my feet. This couldn’t be real. This was a game, a sick and twisted game. Why?

I took a step away, breaking the hold, trying to calm my ragged breathing. I hadn’t realized he’d taken the opportunity to move closer until I gathered a whiff of his cologne, the woodsy scent filling my nostrils. A slight gasp left my lips as I turned my head in his direction, trying to get a good look at him. He remained in the shadows, one side of his face completely hidden from view.

“I...” Swallowing, I had the distinct feeling that he was a man with no patience. “Creatures almost coming to life. Fascinating really. Beautiful as well.”

He exhaled. “Do you believe that starting out our relationship with a lie is in your best interest?”

“Na... No, sir.” Where has the term of respect come from? Was I actually afraid of a man I’d yet to formally meet?

“That is good to hear,