Page 20 of Under His Command
But of course he saw right through me, and made me promise I wouldn’t think badly about myself again. He insisted that he wants me to be needy and longing for him as much as he is for me. So… here I am.
Rowan’s house is massive—with lush, trimmed turf surrounding it, a nearby pond, and a backyard that stretches out far longer than I could even see from when I stepped out of the car. A stark contrast from my tiny rented apartment in the suburbs of Washington.
Here, on the veranda that opens up to the garden, the smell of roses, the sun, and the warm breeze feel like silk draping over my skin. And even though he’s not even here right now, I feel his presence everywhere around me. It’s in the sophisticated scents floating in the air, and especially in the style of the dark, moody furniture he picked up that suits him so well.
There’s a cook making lunch for me right now, despite my insistence that it wasn’t necessary at all. And apparently, Saint—the man who connected me with Rowan on yesterday’s call—is also working at the house, though I’m not exactly sure what he does. He seemed on edge the entire time Rowan was here before he left to deal with his meetings, which definitely struck me as strange. He’s in the military too, after all.
Thankfully, right now he’s made himself scarce. I don’t think he likes babysitting me any more than I like him around. That’s mainly because, well… I’m still wearing the plug Rowan pushed inside my ass.
I can still feel it, and every movement sends tingles inside my pussy that keep me aroused. Who knew I’d love this so much. I’m giddy at the thought of Rowan coming back to me. So, to pass the time, I’m checking in with the world for a while by scrolling on my phone. Until the clock marks another half an hour passed.
I go on social media briefly and smile at the photo carousels posted by Sterling and Lucian. They’re in love, and Bali looks incredible. I’m happy for them, even more so now that I can actually experience the feeling myself.
Before I can leave them a string of enthusiastic comments, the door of a nearby car slams shut, getting my attention. Is Rowan back already?
But then I hear Saint’s voice in the distance, and he does not sound happy. A woman’s voice then joins him, fighting back. What the hell? They talk over each other, and I can hear them louder and louder through the house behind me.
I turn my head and catch a glimpse of a tall woman walking through the house and toward the veranda. She’s dressed in a bronze maxi dress that flows gracefully on her hips, a wood-colored Hermes bag hanging from her hand. Huge curls adorn her small but chiseled head, and I almost gape at how beautiful she is.
I straighten my shoulders and force a smile.
“Hello, there,” she chirps, her voice warm like chocolate. “Maybe you can tell me where Rowan is?”
“Miss Chevrier, please… you can’t be here. The Commander isn’t allowing—”
“Saint, for the love of God, let me at least catch my breath.”
“Miss Chevrier—”
“It’s okay,” I say, getting up to a standing position. “I can keep Miss Chevrier company until Rowan gets back. I’m happy to, in fact.”
“See? This girl has more manners than you’ve ever shown me. Leave us,” she commands, as if she has any real power over him. I cringe at the way she treats him, but don’t say anything either. Who the hell is this woman? And why does she think she can call me a “girl” when we’re probably the same goddamn age?
I straighten my spine as I pin her down with my gaze. She returns it before plopping down in one of the chairs next to mine, her bag waiting for her at her perfectly manicured feet.
“Odette. Pleased to meet you,” she says, dragging a hand through her long hair. “I came looking for Rowan. Where is he?”
Odette Chevrier. I make a mental note of this name and remind myself to ask Rowan about her.
“He’s at the garrison,” I lie, because I don’t want her to think I’m waiting for him here like a good pup. Which, admittedly, I am. “He should be back in a few hours, though last night he returned pretty late. Is there anything I can help you with instead?”
She stares back, a smirk plastered on her pouty red lips.
“He hasn’t told you where he is, has he? Don’t worry. He does that a lot.”
My heart drums in my chest at being caught in a lie.
“I’m sorry, who are you? Why are you looking for him?”
Odette picks up a small box of cigarettes from her bag and pushes one past her lips before she takes it between her fingers to light it. Smoke wafts over in the air above her as she inhales.
“Rowan and I are fucking,” she says, completely unashamed. My legs turn leaden and anxiety starts roiling in my stomach at the sound of it. I want to rip that smirk off her face. But I don’t. Instead, I steady myself and sprawl across my chair, trying to look disinterested.
“When?” I ask.
She smiles, huffing the white smoke above her head.
“Whenever he wants,” she shoots back, and I think she catches a glimpse of my micro expressions, because she laughs. A loud, charismatic laugh that brings men to their knees, no doubt. “What’s your name?”
