I could have gotten lost in a home this big, with so many rooms it was an endless labyrinth. The cold floors were unforgiving on my bare feet, and although I could have put shoes on, blocking out the rigid feeling, putting a barrier between the two, I liked the sensations. It made me feel like I was here, that I wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t conjuring up this entire situation.

After the solarium encounter Cameron had gotten a phone call. He’d excused himself like we hadn’t just done something dark and…good? God, I didn’t know anymore, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know if I should embrace what I felt and ignore the nagging in the back of my head that told me I shouldn’t want this. But the truth was I did want this. I was tired of the feeling of being nowhere, yet surrounded by everything. I didn’t fit in anywhere, and I realized that in Cameron’s presence. I might cry for him, my body instinctively wanting to submit, but being in his presence told me exactly how fragile I was.

It made me realize I really was here, experiencing the world.

But I’d never been one to freely give in, never been a woman who just took what the world gave her. I’d fought for where I was, even if that place was shitty and broken down.

I stopped in front of the window that overlooked the gardens. Despite the April weather being somewhat warm, I saw the wind pick up, brushing along the leaves, telling me that it was colder than it looked. Putting my hand on the glass proved my point, the chilled pane bringing a sting to my palm.

The house felt still, empty, and the only staff I’d seen were those few during breakfast, when I’d first arrived, and the woman who’d come into the room just this morning. I had a feeling if Cameron had been there she wouldn’t have dared enter. He just brought out the instinctual fear in people. That much I’d felt myself.

I moved my hand from the glass and turned, making my way down another long hallway, and stopped at one of the only open doors I’d seen so far. It looked like a sitting room, or what I assumed one of those rooms would look like if I’d ever been in one. Dark furniture was placed in the center, and large windows were on either side of the room. The marble fireplace sat unused, clean, pristine, as if it was just for show. Behind me were rows upon rows of books, and although I wasn’t much of a reader, I did find myself moving toward them. Old leather-bound books which spoke of age, time, stared back at me. I ran my hands over them, the ridges on the spines a texture that pleased me for some reason.

No pictures. Nothing personal.

The thought came to me like a flickering light on its last leg. Why weren’t there any pictures of Cameron? Why did this seem so impersonal, this entire home—house—as if he didn’t really live here? So many questions filtered through my head, yet I knew I’d probably never have the nerve to ask, let alone get them answered.

I pulled one of the books out, the writing on the front in another language. There was a vine and flower detail around the edge of the front cover, an embossed signature, the book’s fingerprint. As I started flipping through the pages, unable to actually read the book, unable to understand the language, I felt myself getting engrossed in it. It was beautiful, the letters placed perfectly together, the detail in each chapter…it was all so detailed. It was like a dream, an imagination that couldn’t be erased.

I closed the book and gently slid it back in place among the others. When I turned, a startled gasp left me. Cameron stood in the doorway, his hands in his front pockets, his gaze locked on me. Neither of us moved, didn’t even speak for long seconds.

“You’ve been exploring.” He didn’t phrase it like a question nor an accusation.

I smoothed my hands over my dress and nodded. My body hummed with awareness, his close proximity, the things he’d done to me…made me do to him ringing through my very cells. “Yes,” I finally said. It was then I saw the dark security camera placed in the center of the room. No doubt there was one in every room, every hallway. “You’ve been watching me?”

He didn’t speak for long seconds, didn’t answer me, didn’t confirm what I asked. “Yes. I watch everything that happens here.” He pushed away from the door frame, holding his hand out for me to take.

For some reason I didn’t hesitate in slipping mine in his much bigger palm.

He led us out of the room, back through the many hallways, down a set of stairs, and finally into what I assumed was his office. I didn’t ask what he was doing, why he’d brought me here. I assumed it had something to do with sex. That’s why I was here, right?

He let go of my hand, went over to his desk, and pushed a button. Like some strange spy movie, some action flick that played out before me, a part of the wall behind his desk opened up to show rows upon rows of screens. Every part of the house was showcased before me, the screen flickering to different areas, inside and outside, bedrooms and the kitchen. I found myself moving closer, looking at the screens, seeing a few staff in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast. I didn’t know how long I stood there, but I watched each screen, staring at each image, and wondering what Cameron thought about when he saw me.

I felt his heat right behind me, his huge body making me feel like I could fall backward and he’d be there, catching me, holding me close. It was insane, demented, but I didn’t want to push that feeling away. I wanted to embrace it.

He put his hands on my shoulders, slid them down my arms, and stopped at my hips. His fingers dug into my flesh, hard enough I felt the pain, the sting of his possession. And when Cameron pulled me back against him, the stiff length of his erection had this flush stealing over me.

“I’ve watched you on these screens, wondering what you thought about, what you imagined would happen here.” He ground himself against me, my body reacting instantly. I warmed, became wet, soft. “I thought about all the things I could do to you, what I wanted you to do to me, how I wanted you to submit to me like no other.”

I closed my eyes, the rotating of his hips, the way he whispered the words against my ears…all of it made me ready for him, had me pushing away the fact I shouldn’t be enjoying it.

“Who are you?” I whispered, not sure why I asked, not sure what this meant or what he’d think. He stopped grinding on me, turned me around gently, and cupped my throat. His hold was loose but there, telling me, showing me that he had the power.

“Who do you think I am?” He didn’t ask it in a condescending manner, wasn’t taunting me, teasing me. I had a feeling he really wanted to know what I thought.

I stared into his dark eyes, remembering all the things he’d told me about himself.

Drug lord.

Criminal.

Killer.

I wanted to know who he was. I wanted to know the type of man he was before he became this way. But asking him that seemed almost like I’d be crossing a line, something I wasn’t prepared to do, not yet, maybe not ever. But the longer he stared at me, looking into my eyes, the more I felt myself wanting to ask, wanting to push him. I might not have gone to school in the official sense, didn’t have a degree, couldn’t read people the way he could, but I could see a man with so much power also harbored his own pain.

“I think you’re a man who has seen things he shouldn’t, a boy who is just as damaged, just as broken.” I felt him tighten his hand on my throat, just marginally, but his expression still stayed neutral. “I think you built up a wall around you, put yourself ahead of everyone, because you didn’t have any other choice.” I was grasping for straws here, just throwing this out, thinking a man like Cameron had to have his own weaknesses and that’s why he needed so much power. “I think you need to have control, because once in your life you had none.” He walked me backward until I felt the wall of monitors stop me. “I think that’s why you don’t have anything personal here, no pictures, no memories. You have a wall around your life to block it all out.” His hand was tight, unforgiving on my throat. I couldn’t breathe, but he was exerting his strength on me.

For long moments he did nothing but hold my throat, keeping me pinned to the wall, staring into my eyes. And when he leaned in close, his mouth inches from mine now, I held my breath, unable to control it.

“Careful, pretty girl. You’re moving awfully close to the fire, and if you’re not careful, you’ll get burned alive.”

That, I had no doubt about, but a part of me wanted to get swept up in the flames, consumed by them. I wanted to be the gasoline that ignited it all.