“I can resist everything except temptation.”
—Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan
Silence settles between us. It’s so quiet the rapid beating of my heart thrums in my ears. A heavy current of tension wafts in the air, his gaze unflinching as I reach up and slowly untie the golden scarf. The knot comes undone, and I let the silk slip down my arm to the floor.
He tracks every move I make.
Stella’s heels click from behind as she enters the room then appears right in front of me. With a warm smile, she starts to wrap a black scarf around my neck.
Adam pushes off the desk and takes a step toward me. She glances at him, her hands going still.
“I’ll take it from here.”
“Of course.” Without another word, she hands him the scarf, gives us both a small nod, and exits the office.
He studies me for a moment, my heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes trail, lazy and hot, over my face. He takes a step closer, then another. I hold my breath when the heat radiating off his body touches me. He stops, his chest inches from my face, and I feel myself shrink as the full scope of our height difference sinks in. Tonight’s the first time I’ve stood before him without my heels on, and his tall, broad frame threatens to crush all 5’ 2” of me with a single move.
My gaze crawls up, up, until I meet his eyes. They’re narrowed on me, darkening with every second that ticks by.
Slowly, he brings the scarf to my neck. My skin prickles with awareness as warm fingers and smooth silk graze my throat, leaving a trail of addictive heat everywhere his hands touch. A shiver rolls through me, my eyes threatening to flutter shut. His jaw ticks as he watches my expression. With a rough pull against my skin, he ties the scarf into a knot on my left side.
He doesn’t let go.
“I’m going to ask you this once, Emmy Highland.” My heart stills as the dangerous hum in his deep voice travels down my body. His stare burns into me, his hold tightening and the material biting into my neck. “Why are you here?”
My eyes go wide, my lips part. He’s caught me off guard, and I have no idea how to respond. There’s no way I can tell the truth. A spark gleams in his eyes, like he sees everything I’m thinking, and my insides seize.
My scratchy throat rasps the first response that comes to mind. “To serve you.”
He tilts his head and takes one final step toward me, his shoes touching my toes. “And why are you here to serve me?” His voice is quiet, even patient. Such a contrast to the fiery look in his eyes.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, my lungs tightening as though his body is stealing my breath. “Because I want to,” I whisper. “I want to serve you.”
Butterflies whirl inside my stomach as my response fills the quiet office. Right now, with his lips so close I can almost taste them, my words ring with too much honesty.
Adam’s gaze darts to my lips, lingering for a beat before he intently scans every inch of my face—searching. Heat floods my skin with each second spent under his scrutiny. I wonder what he thinks he’ll find. More than that, I wonder what he already has.
He breaks away, and I almost stumble forward at the sudden absence in the air. His eyes never once leave mine while he leans against the corner of the desk.
I rub my palms against my nighty as I watch him slowly, meticulously, scrub the side of his jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of his lips.
“Leave.” The growl makes my toes curl.
“But—”
“Aubrey should be back in the spa now. She’ll get you a new”—his gaze flicks to my foot, burning straight through the wound and putting my lie on display—“bandage . . . and show you to my room.” A swallow sticks in my throat. “Stay there until you’re told otherwise.”
When my feet remain frozen against the marble, his brow quirks, and he adds, “Unless you’d rather spend the night with Griff?”
Just like that, my muscles thaw and I’m walking backwards. “Yes, Mast—”
A warning glare and twitch in his jaw stops me short.
“Sir.” Spinning around, I release an unsteady breath and wonder how the hell I got myself into this.