Page 107 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
I could still remember what happened when I refused.
A shiver ripped through me as I stopped in my new room, hardly aware of Walcott asking me if he should start a fire in the mammoth fireplace for me.
Dad had moved us to Texas after that, far away from the home state of his enemies and from him. We’d seen him less and less over the years.
Losing the ridiculous wealth was nothing to me.
Losing time with my dad was everything.
And then, five years ago, both were gone entirely.
The headboard under my fingers, the carpet beneath my feet both brought those memories crashing back to the forefront of my mind, leaving me aching and hollow with all kinds of grief.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to admit I’d live on the streets if it meant I could have my parents back.
Instead, I had this opulent bedroom, a baby brother who counted on me for everything, and a new guardian I trusted about as much as I’d trust Satan himself.
A long, weary sigh escaped my mouth.
“Miss Belcante,” Walcott asked, stepping in front of my vacant stare to get my attention. “Are you alright?”
Before I could answer, Tiernan’s dark velvet voice entered the room. “She’s fine. You’re dismissed, Walcott.”
Walcott had no discernable reaction to the impolite dismissal, flashing me a little smile as he turned to leave. He shut the door behind him.
Tiernan locked it with a flick of his wrist, then leaned against the paneled door and glowered at me with his arms crossed. The diamonds at his cuffs winked cruelly at me.
“That was rude,” I pointed out, casually moving to the other end of the room from him as if I were interested in the gossamer curtains and not interested in getting as far away from his dangerous magnetism as I possibly could.
He didn’t reply.
In fact, he was utterly silent and still as I moved from one window to another, fingering the expensive curtains, peering out the old, rippled glass to the stark autumn grounds below. A crow sat on one pointed end of the iron fence around the property, his beady eyes following me from pane to pane.
Even he wasn’t as disconcerting as the animal in the room with me.
Finally, I turned to face him, crossing my own arms over my breasts and affecting the same lean as he did but against the vanity.
“Can I help you?” I snapped, irritated and tired and beneath it all so sad I didn’t even think a good cry would release the sorrow in my bones.
“I was just thinking exactly that,” he finally said, raising his right thumb to rub it across his plush lower lip in that way he had that made my mouth go dry and other, secret, parts of me go wet. “Unfortunately, I doubt you have the ability to live up to my expectations, let alone exceed them.”
“Good thing I don’t give a crap about your expectations,” I said with a pretty grin. “Everything I do, I do for my brother. Whatever is left? That’s for me and me alone.”
His smile was quick as a lightning strike and just as terrifying up close. “Oh, little thing, that is where you are entirely wrong.”
I glared at him, my heart beating like a death march in my throat. “You might be used to pushing people around because they’re scared of you. Because you’re mean and ugly inside and out but rich enough to get away with bad behavior. But I’m not one of your underlings and I’m not cowed by your wealth.”
A long, sinuous hum rose from his throat as he considered me, head cocked and eyes narrowed like a predator trying to decide how best to approach his prey. After a moment, he pushed off the door and stalked slowly toward me. Each step matched that death-march pulse thrumming in my neck.
I tried not to move, not to flinch or blink. It would be far worse to show weakness in front of a man like him. I felt sure he would enjoy it.
I felt sureIwould too if I allowed myself to give in to the warmth pooling slowly between my legs. To be studied so intently, to be stalked with single-minded focus was oddly and powerfully sexual.
Finally, he reached me, the toes of his shiny Italian loafers pressed to my bare, chipped-polish toes. That pale green gaze like a serpent was locked on me, pinning me in place even though the primitive urge to flee from him lurched through my limbs.
“You misunderstand the nature of my guardianship over you,” he said, his voice soft and quiet, a direct contrast to the cruel tip of his scarred mouth and the hard words they formed. “I am not interested in coddling you, or tucking you in at night and wishing you sweet dreams. In fact, I am not interested in you at all beyond what you can do for me.” His fingers reached out to run lightly down my cheek before they grasped my chin in a powerful grip. “I am going to put considerable time and money into transforming you from this boring little thing into a woman worthy of the McTiernan household. I am going to send you to the best school, give you the best clothes, and teach you to be a lady and not this pathetic little girl. I am going to make your wildest dreams come true, Bianca. And in return? You are going to obey my rules.”
“What rules?” I whispered, embarrassed by my husky tone.
