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“No. She hasn’t been for…” being unsure of exactly how long I’ve been focused on the dangerously attractive woman now being guided away from family portraits is what prompts me to say, “a bit.”
“I see,” he curtly replies. “Very well then. I will provide assistance to Miss Brynley myself and then handle the reprimanding of Miss Penny’s absence accordingly.”
“Thank you.”
Another hum of acknowledgement is followed by the ending of the call.
“This will be your room,” J.T. finally announces, pulling my attention back to the monitor where it belongs.
At least for the moment.
“It’s the nicest – for guests – in this main house.” He twists the handle to the dark door of the most updated room I have and gently pushes it open. “You have your own bed, mini bar, television, and a full ensuite bathroom with a clawfoot bathtub.”
An impressed expression is given, and I can’t stop myself from pridefully grinning.
Good.
She likes something.
“And was the clawfoot tub a prop relocated from the sex dungeon we both know Mr. Wilcox has?”
His laughter at my expense prompts me to ruthlessly unmute the phone. “I can hear her.”
My best friend does his best to dial back his amusement to clearly repeat my statement.
“I know.” Is attached to flirtatious wink, although I don’t know who it’s intended for.
Was it him?
Is there any fucking possibility it was me?
I briefly shut my eyes on a headshake of denial.
Of course, it wasn’t me.
She wants a man, not the mutilated shell of one.
“You’ll be happy to know there are no cameras in the bedrooms or bathrooms.” His proclamation summons my gaze again. “Feel free to go inside and check everything out while I wait for housekeeping to arrive.”
“And if I want you to come inside with me?” Bryn unexpectedly closes the gap between them. Runs a single digit slowly down his chest. “Help me…unpack?
The voice that chomps the instruction isn’t one I’ve ever used let alone knew I was capable of making. “Step. Back.”
There’s no hesitation to create the commanded space, which prompts her to smugly state, “I know you can see us, Mr. Wilcox-”
“Wes.”
“Wes,” J.T. quickly corrects. “He prefers to be called Wes.”
“And I prefer to be the one in control of my own actions.” Her gaze finds the nearest camera to lock eyes with me. “You hate that.” She lets a devilish smile grow mercilessly into place. “So be prepared to hate me, Mr. Wilcox. Because no matter how hard you try…I’m not going to follow all your stupid fucking rules. In fact…” The villainous expression deepens at the same time she casually creeps backwards for her bedroom. “I’m gonna break most of them.”
Chapter 4
Brynley
The bright morning sun does its best to seep through the thick, heavy gray curtains blocking the windows of my guestroom forcing me roll the opposite direction in order to protect myself friend its death beams.
I hate mornings.
