The Vanity of Roses - Lily White Page 0,35

fucking addiction that I couldn’t satisfy no matter how many times I entered that ring.

I wrapped a towel around my neck to dry off the sweat and was reaching for a bottle of water as Isabelle stepped closer to me.

“You seem stressed. What’s bothering you?”

Well, you see, there’s a woman in the house that I simultaneously want to strangle and fuck, or strangle while fucking, or...

Son of a bitch, I had to get Lisbeth off my thoughts.

“I need something,” I said, the answer truthful but nonspecific. Isabelle smiled with the hope she could fulfill that need.

For the moment, maybe she could.

“Pain or pleasure, sir?”

Both. Not that she could provide them all at once. I’d have to settle for one until another time when I could endure the other.

My gaze flicked to the shelves that were ten feet in front of us, at the bench that sat along them where Isabelle could help me find some form of relief.

Following the line of my gaze, her grin stretched into a seductive smile. She didn’t need me to tell her where to go.

Walking over to the bench on long legs, she sat on the bench to face me, the crook of her finger inviting me to take what I wanted.

Pushing to my feet to step toward her, I wondered what she would think if she knew it was Lisbeth’s face I saw in my mind.

Lisbeth

In four hours, Holly had done a good job of showing me everything that was expected of the cleaning staff. Paying attention had been difficult, though. I wanted nothing to do with all the different scrubs and polishes she explained to me, my eyes constantly seeking out a way I could escape the house without being seen.

Every time we passed a door leading outside, I didn’t miss the men lingering nearby or the electronic keypads blinking red. The mansion was locked down tight, and I was sure it wasn’t to keep people out, but more to keep me in.

Two days ago, every door had been accessible without some suited guard standing nearby. I highly doubted some outside threat had occurred at the same time that I’d been forced into employment.

With no choice but to play well with others, at least until they believed the threat of my running away was far behind, I helped Holly clean several large bathrooms and the sauna attached to the athletic rooms, my body sore from stretching and scrubbing before bending and scrubbing some more.

“We’ll need fresh towels in the gym. Can you take some in there and stack them on the shelf while I finish here?”

I dropped the scrubber I was using on the glass walls of the sauna, my arm weighing a thousand pounds where it hung from my aching shoulder.

“Sure. Where are they?”

Holly pointed to a closet.

“You’ll find clean towels in there. The gym is right through that opposite door.”

Thankful to step away from scrubbing, if even for a few minutes, I stepped out of the sauna and headed in the direction she’d indicated.

Grabbing as many white towels as I could, I marched into the gym, the terry cloth tower in my arms concealing my eyes so that all I could do was watch my path on the floor as I walked toward the shelving units.

Someone was inside, if the grunts were any indication, a steady spurt of gravel followed by a deep exhalation.

I couldn’t see who was working out, but it didn’t really matter to me either. I had every intention of stacking the towels and getting the hell out of there.

Before I could reach the shelves, a female voice floated through the air.

I hear you’re planning on fighting in a few days. What the fuck, Callan? Are you insane?

The mention of his name stopped me in place, my heart shooting straight to my throat where it pounded like a jackhammer. I attempted to peek around the towels at the woman who spoke, but they only tipped in one direction, damn near toppling over before I could pull them in place again.

I tried not to think about the need I felt to see the woman who could speak to Callan that way. She had to be a girlfriend or somebody important and the curiosity was getting to me.

What makes you think I give a shit about your opinion? This has nothing to do with you.

Or maybe not.

He spoke to her like she was getting on his last nerve.

But, hey, at least he spoke to her, right? Not that he would

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