Get married. Fuck my husband when he wanted sex. Look pretty on his arm.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
For three years.
Then, it was nothing but me, Opal, and blue skies. She could do her art restoration and work in a fabulous museum, and I’d follow wherever she went. I’d tinker with my own art, maybe take some classes on things that interested me. Or not. Mostly I just wanted to be free. Free of the disgust and filth of my life back home. Free of the stripper pole. Free of living a life I didn’t want that had been thrust on me at a tender age.
A wave of nerves flooded my system as the limo turned down a long, pristinely manicured road that showed nothing but green hills and perfect landscaping as far as the eye could see. Until an enormous white stone mansion came into view at the top of the slight hill we’d climbed.
The car came to a halt at the front of what looked almost exactly like the White House. As in, the White House the President of the United States lived in, only much older. The front had four giant stone columns that were at least two stories high. They met a triangle-shaped stone fa?ade like I’d only ever seen in movies. It was two to three stories with at least half a dozen rectangular windows on each side of the enormous entry. To the left of the circular drive was a three-car garage that was attached at an angle from the sprawling front.
I gulped and stared in horror at the extravagant home, knowing instantly how very out of place I would be here. My fingers itched to text Madam Alana and explain that she needed to give the money back and put me in a new auction with people who weren’t quite so rich. This mansion looked like it could have had a king living in it at one time. I’d never stepped foot in anything so nice.
“Hey there.” Nile rubbed a knuckle along my arm soothingly. “You still with us?” He smiled softly. Probably the first sweet expression I’d seen from the man.
I tried to prevent my lip from trembling but failed. His eyes widened, and he took my hand, bringing it between both of his. “Whatever it is, darling, you can speak freely with me. I will do my utmost to make you as comfortable as possible.”
Kindness, from Nile of all people, broke me.
I was done.
Emotionally drained. Physically exhausted. Mentally destroyed by the entire experience. I was so far outside of my norm I felt completely helpless, vulnerable, and lost. Three things I prided myself on not allowing to best me on an average day back home. I was the type of girl who put on her big-girl panties and handled things. Staring out at a mansion in the British countryside… Fucking bonkers.
“This is too much,” I breathed, the words coming out in a frenzied rush of air.
He squeezed my hand. “It seems that way now. It won’t with time.” Nile patted my hand and moved to open the door.
I clung to his hand and jerked his arm so he’d stop and face me again.
“Why me?” I croaked and shook my head. “None of this makes any sense.”
Nile reached out with his free hand and cupped my cheek. “ You were available at the right time, my dear.” His gaze traced my features as he ran his thumb over my cheekbone. “And you are quite possibly the most magnificent beauty I have ever seen.”
I swallowed against the dryness coating my throat. “But I don’t fit into this world.”
“You will. I’ll make sure of it,” he whispered with a confidence I didn’t feel. His lips twitched, and he dipped his head to look over his dark-rimmed glasses at me. Then he did something I never would have expected.
He leaned forward and placed his lips over mine. For a long moment we both just stayed still, allowing our lips to touch, becoming acquainted. Until he tilted my head where he’d held my cheek and took my mouth in a blistering kiss. Pressing firmly against mine until I opened my mouth just enough for his tongue to barely touch my own. Nile flicked his tongue against mine, and I mewled into his kiss. I lifted the hand he wasn’t holding to the back of his neck, clinging to his warmth and strength. He tasted of peppermint tea and self-assurance. Two things I’d now associate with Nile Pennington alone.
Before the kiss got out of hand, he pulled back and smirked. “How do you feel now, Ms. Dawson?”
I blinked stupidly while he pulled off his glasses, plucked out a cleansing cloth from an inner pocket in his jacket, and wiped away any smudges.
“Honestly?” I murmured.
“Always. I haven’t the time for half-truths or lies.” He grinned.
I glanced over at Noah who was still asleep down at the end of the limo, his hair a mess, and his head wedged against his elbow that he’d leaned against the window.