ALISTAIR IS JETT’S UNCLE.
Amber is in love with Alistair.
Alistair is my former Master.
I have been repeating those three sentences in my head since last night. I keep telling myself if I say them enough, I’ll actually get over the shock.
It’s a very slow process. I couldn’t sleep again last night, but Jett wouldn’t let me out of his sight. We spent half the night talking and half the night fucking. My emotions are in turmoil. On one hand, the elation I feel from being free has my heart exploding. On the other, the uncertainty of the future and the trauma from the past makes moving forward difficult. Jett does nothing but reassure me and make promises. Promises of a brighter tomorrow, and I believe him. I trust him, which is a thousand-mile stretch for me.
When he finally fell asleep early this morning, I snuck out of his room. I’ll probably get spanked for that later, but my mind was going, and I needed to do something with my hands. So breakfast it is.
So far, I have made a stack of pancakes, French toast, bacon, and am now whisking eggs. I hope everyone is hungry. I’ve been snacking on a bowl of cherries the whole time. They’re my favorite fruit, and Jett has kept the refrigerator stocked since the moment he found out.
Most of the girls sleep in, so I know my feast won’t get devoured until later. Which is fine with me. I like the quiet and love cooking in Mansion’s kitchen. It’s gargantuan, with state-of-the-art appliances, expansive granite countertops, custom cabinets that reach the ceiling, and light hardwood flooring. It’s a chef’s wet dream.
“I thought I smelled something burning.” I peek over my shoulder to find Kayne pouring a cup of coffee.
“Very funny,” I quip.
He smirks behind his coffee cup. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s wearing the same shirt as yesterday. Looks like I’m not the only one who didn’t sleep.
He comes to stand next to me as I prepare the eggs. “Where’s Jett?”
“Still sleeping, I think.”
He takes another sip of his coffee and then turns the television on. So much for peace and quiet. I can’t say a word—this is his house.
A newscaster’s voice fills the room.
Kayne then slides a little closer. It’s very odd. As many times as he’s fucked me, he’s never been overly social outside a bedroom.
“Are you holding up okay?” he asks casually in a low voice.
I stop whisking and look up at him with a sidelong gaze.
“I’m okay,” I admit.
“Jett had no idea about Alistair,” he states steadfastly.
Does he think he needs to convince me?
“I know he didn’t.”
“Good.” Kayne nods, his strange, sharp eyes illuminating in the morning sun. “He’s the best man I know. Whatever he tells you, believe him.”
I bat my eyelashes at him bemused. I think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had. And it’s a heavy one. “I will, I promise.”
He nods again, satisfied before stealing a cherry.
“Am I interrupting?” Jett’s voice cuts through the newscaster’s. I glance over my shoulder and smile flirtatiously. “Kayne was just telling me how much he likes my cherry.”
“I bet.” Jett traps my waist tightly as I stand at the stovetop. “Good thing for him I like to share.” He kisses my neck and purrs, “Nice to see you have a sense of humor this morning.”
“It’s a new morning and a new me.” I try to sound confident.
“One day at a time,” he reminds me amorously, caressing my hips.
Kayne groans. “Get. A. Room.”
“Would you be joining us in that room?” Jett badgers him.
Kayne just stares, unamused. For such a domineering man in bed, he’s very reserved when presented with the opportunity. Sometimes I can’t seem to make heads or tails of him.
With no comment from Kayne, Jett swipes a cherry for himself, then adds, “You look like shit, by the way.”
Kayne responds with a low growl in his throat. I swear, I wonder if he’s part wolf at times.
“I’m going to shower.” Kayne downs his coffee, spectacularly ignoring Jett’s ridicule. “Check my office in a little bit,” he orders like a dictator.
“Will do,” Jett agrees, taking Kayne’s spot next to me, leaving just the two of us in the kitchen and the local news. Jett picks another cherry from the bowl with a wicked glint in his eye. “You have no idea what I want to do with you and this cherry.” He runs the red, heart-shaped piece of fruit along his bottom lip. “Are you wearing underwear?”
“Yes.” My cheeks flush the same dark shade of the cherry.
“That’s too bad.” Jett captures it between his teeth and licks it indecently with his tongue. At this rate, these eggs are never getting into the pan.
“I can always take my underwear off.” I play his little game. “Then sit on the counter and show you my little cherry.”
Jett swallows the cherry in one gulp. “Jesus, woman.” He leans in and kisses me, plunging his tongue straight down my throat. “I don’t just want to see your cherry.” His voice is husky. “I want to lick it and bite it and suck it and then clamp it.” He nips the tip of my tongue. “And play with it until you come.”
Holy fuck, this man and his words. You’d think after last night our bodies would need a rest, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. We can barely get enough of each other.
“I think the eggs can wait.” I place the glass bowl next to the stove so I can rip my underwear off.
“In breaking news, famed real estate mogul Easton Erickson was found dead on his luxury fishing boat yesterday morning.”
At the abrupt mention of my father’s name I jump, knocking the bowl of scrambled eggs to the ground. The glass shatters everywhere as the news story continues. “A fire claimed his life. Flames engulfed the forty-foot yacht while anchored ten miles off Great Kills Harbor in Staten Island. It has been reported Erickson and his assistant died of smoke inhalation while asleep. Dental records were needed to identify the bodies.”
I stare blankly at Jett. He doesn’t seem to be surprised by the news. “I told you I’d take care of everything,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Your monsters are dead, burned, and will soon be buried.” He picks me up and sets me on the counter, speechless. “Don’t move until I can clean this up.”
I sit there in a daze as Jett absorbs, sweeps, and mops up the runny eggs and all the shards of glass. Who is this man? Who is he really? How can he be capable of so many secretive and devious and underhanded things, and still come off professional and compassionate and sensual and caring?
“Don’t look at me like that. My mother taught me to pull my weight.” He deposits the mop back in the broom closet.
“I’m not staring at you because you can clean. I’m staring at you because I have no idea who you are.”
“You do know who I am. I’m the man who’s vowed to look after you. To protect you. Care about you.” He anchors his hand behind my neck and touches his forehead tenderly to mine.
“Why?” The question pops out before I can stop it.
“You know why. I’ve never met a woman like you, and I doubt I ever will. We’re two black pearls born of the same oyster.”
“A match?”
“A perfect match.”
“Oh god, you two are sickening.” Jenna drags herself into the kitchen. “I need coffee before I am subjected to cute.”
Jett and I break apart as Jenna shuffles around the expansive kitchen in adorable little ruffle shorts and matching tank top.
She’s one to talk about cute. Because she’s cute as a button.
“Do you want breakfast?” I ask.
“Yes, please.” She sits at the island across from us. Ever since I started tutoring her, I’ve developed an affection for her. Sort of like the sorority little I never had. I hop off the counter, turn off the TV, and make both Jenna and Jett a plate. I have my domestic moments. I place a pancake, a piece of French toast, and a few pieces of bacon on each dish, while Jett grabs the silverware. As I place a plate in front of Jenna, I gasp when I notice the angry red burns around her wrists. She immediately tucks her arms under the lip of the island.
“It’s nothing. Don’t make a big deal,” she hisses.
I don’t know what surprises me more, the marks or Jenna’s reaction.
“Big deal about what?” Jett sits next to her. “Let me see.”
Jenna reluctantly reveals her raw wrists. “It’s not a big deal. Your houseguest likes to play rough. That’s all.” She tries to play it off.
Jett inspects both her wrists reprehensibly, clearly unhappy.
“It’s fine, I can handle it.” She pulls her hands out of his grasp. “I’m a professional, remember?”
Jett and I share the same wary look.
“Don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable doing,” Jett sternly reminds her.
“I won’t.” Jenna comes off like a surly teenager. Which she sort of still is. Sometimes we forget she’s only nineteen.
Jett stands and places a long, firm kiss on her head. “I have some things to do,” he relays. “Take it easy today. Both of you.” Jenna and I both nod obediently.
I watch sadly as he takes his breakfast to go.
Once alone, I sit next to Jenna and put my arm around her. “Is it really okay?”
She sniffles suddenly and my heart breaks. “It was pretty awful.” She buries her face in my neck and cries softly. I fall apart. I can empathize with every single thing she’s feeling right now. Dirty, used, frightened. She’s still so young and impressionable. I wish more than anything that she had a different life.
“What do you say we spend the day in bed, find some mindless TV to watch, and binge on popcorn?” I suggest to make her feel better.
Jenna giggles through her tears. “Is binging on popcorn the only thing we can do in bed?” She lifts her head and seduces me with big watery green eyes.
“No.” I trace her lips. “We can do anything you want.”
“Good.” She sniffs. “Because spending the day in bed sounds really good right now.”
“I’m yours all day long.” I kiss her softly, rubbing my tongue sensually against hers.
“Mmm,” she moans, opening her mouth wider and deepening the kiss. “Can we go upstairs and disappear right now?” she asks between intakes of breath.
“Yes.” I lick my way down her neck. “I’ll bring the cherries.”