So there I was, sitting quietly on one end of the table that stretched along the length of the dining room. The warm glow of the hanging chandelier draped over the table, silverware glistening under its soft light.
The room was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of grilled chicken and roasted garlic. Occasionally, the clinking of cutlery drifted through the air as he ate. Although neither of us had spoken a word to each other, we both could feel the tension in the room.
I hated it.
The rain outside was getting heavier by the minute, and the thunderclaps were getting louder. Scarier. Whenever Icaught a lightning flash, I’d brace myself for the thunder. That heart-wrenching sound that always scared me half to death.
With my chin under my palm, I stared absently at my plate as I poked my vegetables with a fork.
“You’ve barely touched your food,” he said, his voice calm as always.
“I’m not hungry,” I answered without raising my head.
“Did you already have dinner?”
My brows furrowed. “No.”
“Then why aren’t you eating?”
I lifted my head and met his gaze. “Because I’m not hungry.”
Thunderclap!
I flinched, shoulders jerking reflexively.
He stared at me in silence, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “The thunder’s just a noise.” He reached for the half-empty glass of wine beside his plate. “It’s the lightning you should be worried about.”
I said nothing.
He sipped from his glass, exuding his usual air of confidence and majesty. “Eat.”
My face twisted into a frown at the condescension in his tone. “Is that an order?”
He hesitated. “What if it is?”
I paused, seething in silence, upset by the authority he had over me. “You may have me locked up in your mansion. But you don’t get to order me around. I’m not one of your maids.”
“No, you’re not.” His expression darkened by a whisper. “It appears you’ve forgotten what you actually are.”
How could his voice be so calm, yet dangerously intimidating?
Another roll of thunder boomed outside, the loudest I’d heard all evening. An audible yelp escaped my lips, and the whole mansion was plunged into complete darkness.
My heart started pounding in my chest as more lightning and thunder tore across the dark skies outside. The room was so dark I couldn’t see a thing. I had no clue why, but the table was shaking, and so was the crystal chandelier hanging above.
I closed my eyes, struggling to catch my breath with my fingers locked around the edge of the table. It was as though I was having a panic attack, and my heart was about to explode out of my chest.
My palm darted up to my bosom, my breathing coming in ragged gasps.
That’s when I felt it: a hand on my left shoulder. The touch was gentle and surprisingly comforting—so comforting, in fact, that with each passing second, my breathing steadied.
It was him. Even though I couldn’t see him, the intoxicating scent of his cologne gave him away. This was the first time his skin had come into contact with mine. And to my own shock, I wasn’t repulsed by it. Not even the slightest.
When his fingers dug into my flesh in a massaging motion, a quiet moan fell from my lips. His touch wasn’t just comforting, it was also relaxing. For a moment, I was lost in a strange feeling that overwhelmed me.
As he massaged my shoulders in the dark, I felt my body yielding to his touch in ways I wasn’t ready for. My nipples hardened, and my thighs brushed against each other in an attempt to douse the sensation between my legs.
Suddenly, he stopped.