When my release shoots across my shirt, Ella reaches over to clean it up. My fingers lock around her wrist before she can even undo the first button, and my voice is a warning when I issue the command.
“Don’t.”
Her arm falls away from mine, but she doesn’t retreat. She’s still beside me as I yank off the shirt and toss it aside, leaving only my bare chest and a vulnerability I don’t like. I should move. I should force myself to get up, but right now, my eyes are too heavy, and my body’s too relaxed to fight it.
Just a few minutes. A few minutes and then I will go back to my room.
19
Ella
Sunlight filters in through the window, dancing across Thorsen’s cheekbones. Even in his sleep, his unease is palpable. A part of me longs to reach out and trace over the tension in his face, to ease it away, but then I remember the way he recoiled last night when I moved to touch his shirt. It wasn’t just another episode of his turbulent mood swings. It was instinct. Something I recognize all too well. I’m more certain of it now than I’ve ever been. Something happened to him. Something terrible. Thorsen is masquerading behind a cloak of hostility, and I’m desperate to find out why.
It shouldn’t matter to me. I’m only here for two months, and not because I came here of my own free will. But there has always been something inside me that wants to fix the broken and mend the hurt in those who can’t help themselves. And I feel deeply that Thorsen is someone who hasn’t ever been able to help himself. He isn’t going to make it easy on me. I know that before he even opens his eyes, and the temperature in the room drops.
He’s confused at first, blinking as he takes in his surroundings. His eyes flare when they land on me, and it feels like my whole body frosts over. Wordlessly, he sits upright, swinging his legs over the bed as he glances toward the door. The door that he left unlocked and open all night.
“You didn’t run,” he murmurs, almost too low to hear it. “That was a mistake, Ella.”
“We have a deal.” I sit up too. “Why would I run?”
“Because you should.” He turns away.
The echo of approaching footsteps in the hall effectively ends our conversation.
“Thor?”
The face I recognize from the media appears, and I know immediately this is his brother. He was at the ball too, and we almost met on the palace lawn before I slipped away.
I’m scrambling to make myself appropriate, pulling the blanket up over my chest when he focuses on me. His eyes flash with surprise before he turns to Thorsen, who has gone rigid as a staff. At some point in the last second, he extricated himself from the bed. Judging by the expression on his face, I’d venture a guess that his brother is oblivious to our arrangement.
“Well, isn’t this a nice little party?” Calder smirks. “You’ve been holding out on me, brother?”
The muscle in Thorsen’s jaw works as he drags his eyes away from me and focuses on his twin. “Calder, this is Ella.”
“Ella,” Calder repeats as if he’s testing it out for himself.
His eyes move over me, and the similarities between him and Thorsen catch me off guard. I never noticed it before in the photos the media prints, but they really do look alike. There’s something undeniably intense about Calder too. Between the two of them, they suck all the oxygen from the room.
“Where did you find this one?” Calder asks curiously.
He doesn’t recognize me from the palace. Maybe it was the mask, or the gown, or the fact that I never spoke to him. But I can’t decide if this new development is good or bad.
“Ella was just about to take a shower,” Thorsen says.
Calder looks back and forth between us as if he’s trying to figure out something. At the same time, I’ve never seen Thorsen so unsettled, and I can’t understand why.
“I suppose we should let her get to it.” Calder smirks.
Leaving his shirt on the floor, Thorsen joins his brother and heads for the door. My eyes drift to the solid expanse of muscles along his back. It’s the first glimpse I’ve had of him like this. Something that would otherwise appear casual seems out of place for Thorsen. I don’t get the impression he walks around often without his clothes on. From the rigid set in his spine, I’d venture a guess he doesn’t often wake up shirtless beside a woman either. But it would be naïve of me to think he doesn’t have sex with them. According to the papers and the few bits and pieces I overheard from Lavinia, he’s had multiple sexual partners who have gone to the media afterward, eager to spill the details of their illicit encounters.
I can’t imagine what that must be like. And when Thorsen glances at me over his shoulder, I’m beginning to understand why he doesn’t feel like he can trust me. He still wants to warn me away because it’s safest for him to keep everyone at a distance.
He pauses on the threshold, his eyes drifting to the lock. Calder notices, and he waits, watching his brother with interest. I’m curious, too, holding my breath as he decides how to handle this situation. When he shuts the door, I listen carefully, watching the lock. But it never clicks into place. A strange thrill shoots through me when I consider what that means.
Is he going to allow me to explore the estate?
Recalling his words about the shower, I decide it’s best not to test the boundaries just yet. And honestly, after last night’s encounter, I could really use a shower. When Thorsen slipped into my room in the late hours of the night, it surprised me. As I squeeze my thighs together, I can still feel his palms on me, spreading me apart, tasting me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the way he makes me feel, and I can’t help but wonder what it will be like when he finally takes my virginity.
Walking into the bathroom, I turn on the tap and check the water, adjusting the temperature until I get it just right. When the spray is to my liking, I step inside and scrub my body and wash my hair while I contemplate the risks of stepping outside of this room.
Does Thorsen want me to? Or is it some kind of a trick?
I’m not any closer to an answer when I towel off my body and brush out my hair. When I get back to the room, I’m surprised to find a silk bathrobe with a brand-new tag on it waiting for me on the bed. As I’m examining it, the door swings open, startling me.
Thorsen fills the frame, wearing a fresh pair of trousers and a button-down shirt. His hair’s still wet, and he’s freshly shaven, and between us, his aftershave lingers in the air. When his eyes move over my towel wrapped body, his pupils flare.
Is he disappointed? Angry? I can’t tell.
“Put on the robe and come down the hall to the kitchen,” he says. “You’ll be joining Calder and me for breakfast.”
The pulsing vein in his neck alerts me to the tension simmering beneath the surface, so I nod. “Okay.”
He casually eye fucks me for a few long, lingering moments and then disappears again.
I slip into the robe quickly and loosely braid my hair to pull it away from my face until it dries. When I poke my head out the door and into the hallway, it still feels as though I’m doing something forbidden. But that fear is outweighed by the desire to explore Thorsen’s estate.