Seven

Chapter Seven

Hallie

THE BEDROOM DOOR BURST open, hitting the wall behind with force. Tam’s footsteps were more like stomps, though I noted the slight scrape of one foot as he seemed to favour the other, and he muttered as he crossed the room to the bathroom.

I curled myself into a tight ball under the bedcovers, my breath trapped in my lungs. I hadn’t even needed to look at him, and already I could sense his anger radiating. I recognised this kind of reaction from having lived with my father my whole life.

Something had gone wrong during whatever business meetup he’d been to that night.

Would he take his fury out on me? I didn’t doubt that he had the capacity for violence inside him—his reputation for being ruthless was well known among our community.

I figured my safest bet was keeping still and pretending I was asleep.

Hopefully, he’d have forgotten I was even there, though I doubted it.

The rush of water hitting the large shower tray came through the closed door, and I allowed myself to breathe. Perhaps a few minutes under hot water would help him relax. I knew I always felt better after I’d put myself in some water. I’d done exactly that earlier this evening when he’d been out of the house. The bubble bath, combined with the couple of glasses of wine I’d treated myself to out of Tam’s fridge, had helped me relax, and I’d actually managed to sleep, until I’d been so woken by Tam coming home.

There was no way I’d go back to sleep while he was in there. I strained my ears, trying to pick up on his next move so I could be ready for him. I remembered what he’d said earlier about what he’d do to me when he got back. Had that been part of my reason for getting in the bath? If I was going to have to go through with this, I didn’t want him to treat me with disgust.

Perhaps I should have. Perhaps I should be considering going in the other direction and refusing to wash until our month was up and he agreed to marry

me. But I had the feeling if Tam wanted me clean, he’d just pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and chuck me in the bath himself.

I’d never seen him in anything less than fully dressed, and for a moment my mind wandered, wondering what his body looked like beneath his clothes. I had no doubt that he was muscular, but was his skin free from tattoos and piercings? There weren’t many men around here who didn’t end up covered in tats—I’d always wanted a couple myself, but my father had frowned at the idea. Funny how the idea of a bit of ink sullying his precious daughter’s skin hadn’t sat right with him, yet he was more than happy to hand me over in full to Tam Cornell to do whatever he wanted with me. I didn’t want to feel the twinge of bitterness that nipped at my heart, but I did.

What time was it? I squinted at my phone screen. Jesus. Almost four in the morning. What had he been doing all this time? Was he showering to come to bed or go back out again?

I’d made sure I’d re-dressed after my bath, so I’d worn bottoms and a top to bed. I was glad of that protection now, that extra layer of cloth between us. Even though I knew we had marriage looming in our futures, the thought of being intimate with a man like Tam Cornell made me nervous.

The thunder of the shower continued, and beneath that came a second noise, a rhythmical one, like he was striking something, together with a grunt.

What was he still doing in there?

I rolled over to face the door. From the crack of light between the door and the frame it was clear he hadn’t shut it properly when he’d gone in there

—no wonder the shower was so loud. The noises I’d heard had grown louder, too. Was he hurt? Angry?

My curiosity got the better of me. I slid out of bed, and tiptoed, bare- footed, to the door. I paused at the gap and then gently nudged it with my hand, pushing it open a fraction more. Warm, scented steam filled the room, but I was able to see the glass shower stall opposite. Tam’s shape was also visible, though blurred through the glass. He had one hand braced on the shower wall. His head was hung, his shoulders rounded, allowing the water to drum on the back of his neck. I had a view of his muscular biceps, broad shoulders, thick thighs, the peachy curve of his ass. The crop of dark hair now wet from the shower. I couldn’t make out any detail because of the steamy shower screen, but it was enough to send my imagination spiralling.

I suddenly realised what the noises were I was hearing. Fuck. Tam Cornell was masturbating in the shower, and I was standing there like a

peeping Tom, watching him. My pussy clenched, and I pressed my thighs together, a pulse of unexpected pleasure thudding through my core. But with it came something else—disappointment? Hurt? Rejection? Hadn’t he said he was going to come back here and fuck me? This was clearly something he’d needed to get out of his system, but instead of coming to bed and doing what he’d promised, he’d put a wall and a door between us and decided to take care of things himself.

A part of me was relieved. I didn’t want my first time to be with Tam Cornell in a ferocious mood, taking out whatever anger he held inside him on me. But the other part of me wondered what was so wrong with me that he’d rather jerk himself off in the shower than get into bed with me. I didn’t think it was that he wasn’t attracted to me—I’d seen how he’d looked at me that evening before he’d left, and I might be inexperienced, but I wasn’t completely naïve.

His heavy breaths turned to grunts. He seemed to draw into himself, becoming more hunched, as though all his physical being was pulled into that centre of his cock.

I could barely make out the thick length of his dick, hidden by his large hand as it moved faster and faster, but I pictured the smooth, swollen head, and the ridge leading onto the long, veined shaft.

He let out an expletive and slammed his other fist against the wall. It only took a matter of seconds, but then his body relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his head lifting back up, and I realised he’d reached his climax.

Aware he’d most likely be getting out now, and not wanting to be caught, I spun on my bare feet and hurried back to the bed.

The shower turned off, and I sucked in a breath. I pictured him stepping out, his near-black hair wet and dripping, his solid body running with water. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force the mental image, plus what I’d just seen, out of my head. Even though this was the man I was destined to marry, I did not want to be attracted to him. I could look at him and consider him an attractive man—which he clearly was, despite being so much older than me

—but that was different to finding him attractive.

A girl could lose her head if she allowed lust to cloud her judgement, and while I knew what the score was as far as this being a practical arrangement to secure the futures of our two families, I didn’t want to lose myself at the same time.

Chapter Eight

Tam

fter I’d discovered we’d been ripped off, I’d had no choice but to go to my father and tell him. Unsurprisingly, he’d been pretty fucking

unhappy about the situation. Samuel Cornell was still head of both our household and our business, and even though he was in his sixties now, he was a force to be reckoned with. I’d always looked up to him, and even though I was in my thirties myself now, I still wanted to make him proud of me. I wanted to report back a job well done, not that we were suddenly down several hundred thousand pounds. Though it hadn’t cost us anywhere near that much to have the money printed and shipped over, it was what we would have made once the dodgy cash had been washed. Now some other fucker had our money and would be laughing about how they’d got one over on the Cornell family.

That made me as furious as losing the money itself.

I’d gone back to the port and, with the help of Murphy and Damon, had beaten up our contact there. Most people crumbled after a few fists to the face, and the threat of having body parts cut off, but he hadn’t. Something told me he was telling the truth, and I trusted my gut instinct on that. I’d let him go, but not without first taking his mobile phone and making sure he didn’t have a second burner hidden somewhere about his person or in his car. If my gut was wrong, I didn’t want him warning anyone that we were coming.

By the time I’d got back to the house, my fists had been raw, and my clothes and face spattered with blood. I’d almost forgotten about the woman asleep in my bed. I was so tightly wound up, I didn’t dare let myself anywhere near her. Perhaps I was wrong in that. Perhaps I should have climbed on top of her, covered in another man’s blood, and held her down by the throat while I fucked her hard. Surely then she’d have gone running back to her father and that would have been another problem dealt with.

But despite myself, I couldn’t do it. I pictured her lying in the bath, her tits and long legs frustratingly hidden by bubbles, and her striking red hair floating in the water, and I’d figured that I’d have been doing myself a

disservice by getting rid of her quite so quickly. She’d willingly come to live in my house, and even though she only wanted to become my wife because her daddy had told her that was what she needed to do, she hadn’t refused.

I was still filled with utter fury at the death of my brother. How little did she think of herself to allow herself to just be handed around between us like a stray dog? Harvey hadn’t slept with her, though, and, as far as I’d been aware, he’d been happy to marry her. Had he really been saving himself for their wedding night? If so, he’d been doing it for her benefit, and I knew for a fact he hadn’t been sitting at home on his own every night, waiting for the wedding. I’d been in clubs with him where the women had been draping themselves over him like cheap jewellery, and he’d always take at least one, if not more of them, home with him. Maybe he’d seen Hallie as being different—had wanted to treat her as his wife instead of some whore. I could understand that. Potentially, she might have been the mother of his children, had he not been murdered, so he might not have wanted to fuck her face and arse like he did the women he picked up.

I, however, was different. I had no intention of making her my wife, and there was no way in hell I’d bring children into this fucked-up life of mine. So I guessed that meant I could fuck her any which way I liked.

I stared down at her motionless form beneath the duvet. She wasn’t asleep. No one was that silent when they were sleeping. I wasn’t even sure she was breathing. Was she holding her breath, sensing me standing over her, wondering what my next move would be? I’d just come in the shower, so at least that knot of tension had released from me. Besides, it was now so late it was practically morning again, and I needed to get at least a couple of hours sleep. As soon as I woke, I’d need to get back to work to try to figure out who the hell had ripped us off.

I pulled on a pair of clean grey jogging bottoms, threw back what appeared to be ‘my side’ of the bed, and climbed in. Beside me, her body was taut with tension, and I smirked in the dark. If she wanted to pretend to be asleep, she was going to have to try a lot harder than that. If I hadn’t been so fucking shattered, maybe I’d have messed with her for a bit, but oblivion claimed me the moment my head hit the pillow.

SUNLIGHT POURED BETWEEN a gap in the curtains.

Fuck. What time was it?

I reached for my phone. Almost nine. I’d slept too late. Remembering the girl in my bed, I twisted to look over my shoulder. The spot where she’d been was now empty. Had she snuck out of bed the moment I’d fallen asleep and gone to spend the night in a different part of the house? Or had she just got up early? I reached my hand across the sheets, but they were cool to the touch.

She’d either moved or been up for a while.

I rolled over, so my head was on her pillow, and inhaled the scent of her. Yes, she’d definitely slept in these sheets. It was strange having a woman’s scent in my bed. While I’d fucked plenty of women in this house, I didn’t normally bother bringing them up to my bedroom, and on the occasions where I had, they’d definitely never slept here. I didn’t need the hassle of some bird thinking she’d got her feet under the table.

Of course, now I had one who thought she was going to end up marrying me. It was like I’d gone from nought to one hundred in three seconds.

I got out of bed, gritting my teeth against the twist of pain in my thigh—it was always worse first thing, and the level of activity last night had aggravated the old injury. I necked a couple of pills and went to the bathroom to take a piss and brush my teeth, and then headed downstairs. I hadn’t bothered to put on a t-shirt—why should I have to in my own house—and just remained in the grey, drawstring jogging bottoms I’d worn to bed. As I made my way down the stairs, I listened out for any sign of my new houseguest. Sure enough, music was coming from the kitchen. She must have put on the digital radio I had in there.

I paused in the doorway, leaning my hip against it, and folded my arms across my bare chest.

Hallie was listening to some pop shite that I barely recognised—I preferred the grunge music of the nineties myself, give me Pearl Jam and Nirvana, and Soundgarden any day of the week—but she seemed to be enjoying it. She had her back to me, and her hips undulated from side to side, her shoulders and her tight little backside wiggling. She sang along, and despite myself, a smile tugged on the corners of my mouth. Her voice was terrible, but she was making up for it in enthusiasm and that sexy wiggle she had going on.

“Good morning,” I said, stepping into the kitchen.

She spun around to face me. “Oh, I didn’t see you there.” She reached for the digital radio and switched it off, so silence fell over the room.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I told her. “I was enjoying the show.”

Her cheeks pinked up. “I didn’t know anyone was watching.”

Her gaze drifted down to the front of my grey bottoms, and her eyes widened slightly as she caught sight of my semi outlined in the material. I held back a smirk. Things were always active down there first thing in the morning, and having a pretty girl bumping and grinding in my kitchen certainly helped things along.

The buzzer for the front gate went, and I frowned at it. I hadn’t been expecting anyone, but Hallie hurried over to let whoever it was in. I stepped in close behind her, and as she reached for the button to open the gates, I grabbed her wrist and spun her round to face me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growled. She was getting far too comfortable for my liking. She hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours yet.

She started in surprise. “What? You said I could order in whatever I wanted, remember? And since you don’t have anything other than milk or booze in your fridge, I thought I’d order breakfast.”

I scowled. “You don’t just go letting anyone in here, do you understand?

If it doesn’t fit between the bars of the gate, you don’t get to have it.” “Bloody hell. I really am in a prison.”

“It’s to keep you safe, stupid girl. You know what line of business our families are in. You open that gate to let someone in, and then next thing you know, you’re tied up, or raped, or kidnapped, while some arsehole is ransacking my house, looking for something they might be able to use against me.”

She wrenched her wrist out of my grip.

Her eyes met mine, sparks of grey flitting through the green, like thunderclouds mirrored in the ocean.

She spoke through gritted teeth. “It’ll fit through the bars.” I jerked my chin towards the front door. “Go then.”

I released my grip on her arm. A red ring encircled her pale skin. I’d hurt her. Good. Maybe next time she’d be more sensible.

She put her head down and left the kitchen. I followed her progress as she opened the front door and ran down the driveway to the electric gates. I waited by the open doorway, watching. She gesticulated to the delivery driver then motioned back to the house, most likely saying the man she’s currently living with is a controlling psychopath who won’t let her open the gate.

It wasn’t as though she was wrong.

Eventually, the delivery driver slid the box of food—which luckily was rectangular but fairly flat—followed by a couple of large coffee cups and a cardboard cup holder through the bars. Hallie balanced the cups on top of the box and turned back to the house.

I slipped back into the kitchen, not wanting her to know I’d watched her. I retuned the radio to an old rock channel, another way to remind her that this was my home, and she was no better than an intruder here.

She came into the kitchen, her arms laden, and placed the box and cups onto the marble kitchen island. The aroma of baked goods filled the air, and my stomach growled, my mouth watering.

Hallie ignored me and opened the package. It was a graze box of breakfast foods—muffins, waffles, croissants, ham and cheese bagels, plus a fruit platter of blueberries, strawberries, slices of watermelon, nuts, and yogurt.

I cocked an eyebrow. “How many people did you think you were feeding?”

She looked me up and down, and I noted how her gaze lingered on my chest and biceps. For someone who kept trying to make out like she had no interest in me, she certainly had a roving eye.

“I thought, given the size of you, that you probably had a good appetite.”

I allowed one corner of my lip to curl. “I have a good appetite for everything.”

A blush rose to her cheeks, and she glanced away but kept talking. “Here, I even ordered you a coffee. I figured you’d need it after your late night.”

“You noticed me coming in late then?”

What else had she noticed? Had she been aware of what I’d done in the shower after I got back?

She didn’t look at me but busied herself opening my kitchen cupboards, hunting for plates. “Barely. I was half asleep.”

I wanted to call her out on her bullshit, but I was enjoying watching her squirm. She located the plates and set them out beside the box of pastries.

I had to admit, all the food did smell and look good. I wasn’t going to get used to this, though. I wasn’t planning on keeping her around, and I didn’t want her feeling too much at home.

I grabbed one of the bagels from the box and picked up the coffee without thanking her. “I’ve got work to deal with. You’ll be eating by yourself.”

She pressed her lips together. “Fine.”

Holding the bagel in one hand and the coffee in the other, I took myself back upstairs to get dressed. It was impossible to relax knowing she was down there, though—not that I was much into relaxing anyway. I still had to figure out who the fuck had taken our money, and that was not only going to take some time, it was also going to mean getting my hands dirty.