* * *
I wake to the sensation of a soft mattress behind my back. The groggy state of my mind warns me that I hadn’t fallen asleep on my own, and I struggle to recall why. It takes a bit for my brain to play catch-up, and when I remember being drugged, I force my eyelashes apart and blink with confusion.
I’m at the apartment, apparently lying upon the bed. The comforter is soft against my back, and I abruptly sit up, my head spinning as I put a hand to my throbbing temple. I’m aware that I’m fully dressed, thank God. It feels like a bulky sweatshirt had been slipped on over my shirt.
When I lower my hand, my eyes widen. A man is standing at the foot of the bed, watching me with expressionless eyes. For a second, I think he’s a stranger, but then I begin to recognize the facial features that are no longer hidden beneath a beard.
This man, he looks nothing like the hooded criminal who’d held a gun to my head. His hair, no longer concealed beneath a baseball cap, is so dark it’s nearly black and cut in a short, sophisticated style. Dark eyebrows hover over eyes that are now a steel gray instead of deep brown. The lighter color is striking against his handsome features, and dark stubble covers his strong jaw. The suit he’s wearing looks like it’d been tailor-made for him, and the dark blue jacket displays his broad shoulders to perfection. His shirt is white, and a narrow, navy tie with tiny burgundy stripes is positioned at the base of his throat. A burgundy pocket square brings more color to his sleek, business attire. Matching slacks finish the look, and from where I’m sitting upon the bed, I can’t begin to tell what kind of shoes he’s wearing—not that I care.
I scramble off the bed to face him, my eyes flashing with anger. What the hell does he want from me?
He moves towards me like a predator stalking its prey, but I manage to stand my ground. As he pauses before me, I find myself tilting my head so I can hold his gaze. I can’t deny that he’s an incredibly attractive man. I may only be eighteen, but even I’m not immune to the sex appeal that oozes from his pores. And those eyes… They’re so indifferent, but I also sense a bottomless ocean of hidden secrets. There’s a lot going on behind those eyes, but I can tell he’s mastered the art of revealing only what he wants others to see.
His lips begin to move, and my gaze drops so that I can read them. I have a moment to admire their firmness before I concentrate on the words they’re forming. “I’ve secured you this apartment for the next year, and I expect you to use it. You also have cash, a phone, and a new ID that was supposed to be delivered to you this morning.” His eyes narrow on mine. “Rejecting my generosity has displeased me greatly, Charli.”
He doesn’t understand ASL, but it’s still natural for me to lift my hands and begin signing my thoughts on the complete and utter nonsense he’d just said.
He steps closer, and my hands falter as he invades my personal space. His expensive cologne infiltrates my senses as his hand grips my chin, causing my eyes to widen from the suddenness of it. “I didn’t save you just so you could go back to living on the streets. I catch you on them again after rejecting my kindness, and we’re going to have a major problem on our hands,” he warns.
The nerve!
I lift my hand to slap his arrogant face, but his reflexes are faster, and he quickly catches it before it can make contact. His grip on my chin shifts, and he wraps a hand around my throat, physically forcing me backwards until my back touches the nearest wall.
His body closes in on mine, and my breath hitches in my lungs as his warm chest presses against my breasts, the belt buckle of his pants digging into my belly. If he were hurting me, this would never feel as good as it does, and I hate him for it. My heart begins to flutter in my chest, and an attraction I’ve never felt before makes itself known. I shouldn’t be noticing how hard his chest is or how much my hips want to arch into his.
In my mind, I’m furiously cursing my traitorous body. He’s a domineering brute, and I shouldn’t be reacting this way. I glare up at him, tilting my chin and daring him to hurt me.
The hand on my throat is warm and strong, but he doesn’t tighten his grip. Those steel gray eyes bore into mine, and his lips begin to move. I quickly concentrate on his mouth. “You should be dead, or on your back overseas. Instead, I gave you a second chance at life. Make it work, Charli, because if you don’t, you won’t like the consequences.”
After I’ve read his lips, frustration begins to overwhelm me. I’ve always been great at putting up a strong front, but this is just too much. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. I need to find out what he wants from me.
As if he can sense what’s going on in my mind, his eyes shift but continue to reveal nothing of his emotions. “I am asking for nothing in return, so stop being a stubborn brat and accept what has been given to you.” The thumb pressing against the pulse point of my neck begins to stroke my skin, causing goosebumps to rise on my flesh. “A roommate will be moving in later, deal with it. If you say one word about how we met or how you’ve come to be here, I will have no choice but to kill him. Do you understand me?” he asks, his eyes cold and expectant.
I stare at him, taking a full minute to allow what he’d said to sink in. Do I believe his threat? Absolutely. This is a man who is neck-deep in criminal activity, and judging by the penthouse suite he lives in, the designer suit he’s wearing, and the gleaming watch on his wrist that must cost a fortune, he has the money to back up any threat he makes.
He continues speaking, giving me no choice but to concentrate on the movement of his lips. “The roommate is for your benefit, so get to know him and be wise with what you confide. Remember, his life is in your hands, so don’t mess up. Nod if you understand me.”
I’m still conscious of his hand on my throat, and I give a slight nod. There’s no use trying to argue or have my say, because apparently my opinions don’t matter.
His eyes search mine, and his hand carefully releases my throat. “The phone is on the bed. My number is saved in your contacts along with”—I don’t catch the name he’d just stated since names need to be spelled for me to understand. “If you have any problems or questions, contact him first and then myself. Understood?”
I badly want to tell him where he can shove his demands. I’m deaf, not stupid. Though to be honest, reading lips isn’t all that easy, and I’m understanding most of what he’s saying and filling in the blanks myself where I’ve missed something. Still, I hate it when people talk down to me, although that’s not exactly what he’s doing. He’s just not allowing me to have a say in the matter, and that’s just as bad as treating me like a child.
He’s waiting for me to show my acceptance, so I give him a sarcastic nod.
The caustic move doesn’t go unnoticed, and his eyes turn to chipped ice. “The refrigerator is fully stocked, and there’s a credit card next to the ID. When the cash runs out, begin using the card. A monthly allowance will be transferred into your account.”
I begin to furiously sign in ASL, wanting to know why he’s doing this. What does he expect in return?
He stares long and hard at me for a full minute before stepping away and moving to the bed, picking up the phone that I hadn’t noticed earlier. The manila envelope is also there. He holds the glossy black phone out to me with a measured look. “One question before I leave. I had to rearrange my schedule this morning to deal with you, and I am not happy about it.”
I snatch the phone from him and turn it over in my hands, trying to figure out how to turn it on. He reaches over and presses the button on the side before swiping the screen.
I shoot him a look as if saying, “Let me do the rest on my own.” I press the message icon, and I’m pleased when a keyboard comes to life at the bottom of the screen. I quickly type, I won’t be anyone’s slave. I am not going to exchange sex for a roof over my head. When I’m finished, I hold it out to him, glaring.
He doesn’t reach for the phone, and instead, his eyes scan the text. His gaze lifts to mine. “You are not a slave, and the only sex you’ll experience is the kind you want, with whomever you want, and it’ll be on your own terms.”
His response brings a frown to my face. I look down at the phone and begin typing another question. When I look up to show him what I’d typed, I find that he’s gone. I blink with disbelief and hurry through the open doorway and down the hall. When I reach the main room beyond the kitchen, the apartment door is just closing behind him.
I come to an abrupt halt when I belatedly notice the blond-haired man with the brown eyes standing in the room. His wide stance informs me that he has no intention of going anywhere anytime soon.
He drugged me! I glare at him accusingly as the arrogant man in the suit is temporarily forgotten.
His eyes meet mine without remorse. “If he wants you off the streets, you’d best do what he wants.”
After a moment of hesitation, I cautiously move closer and drop my eyes to type, Or what? I hold it out for him to read.
“May I?” he asks, motioning towards the phone.
I nod and hand it to him. I watch as his large fingers move across the keyboard until he hands the phone back to me. I read the text. You don’t want to know. My name is Carter, and I’m in your contacts. You can begin a text conversation with me by pressing on my name and choosing the envelope icon. Be warned, I am not an idle chit-chat kind of guy, so if it’s not an important question, I will likely ignore it.
I’m still bewildered by everything that has happened, and it’s difficult to believe that the man in the suit is doing this out of kindness. There are many thoughts swirling around in my head, and I glance at Carter. He’s patiently watching me, likely expecting more questions. I want to test the text messaging tool, so I follow his directions and find his name in the contacts. There are only two names in the directory, and Devlin Kade is the second. So that’s his name. I press Carter’s and open a text conversation. I type, What is this about a roommate? I press send and watch Carter intently.
He slips his hand in his suit jacket to pull out a phone. After he opens the text, his fingers move across the screen. A second later, the phone I’m holding vibrates.
Interesting. I kind of like this text messaging thing—the technology of it all, not the man I’m swapping texts with. His message reads, A companion/roommate has been hired. He’s fluent in ASL and will help you with anything you need. Be careful. Your actions could get him killed.
I’m sure they could, which is something I’m going to have to wrap my mind around before this guy shows up. I type, You guys hired me a babysitter.
Carter responds, You obviously need one or you wouldn’t be in this situation.
My head jerks up, and I give him my middle finger.
The only reaction he gives is a look of boredom.
This entire morning has been strange, and I don’t think I can handle another second of it. Without a text or explanation to Carter, I turn on my heel and make my way back to the bedroom I’d fled earlier. Desperate for privacy, I close the door and scowl at the bed.
The manila envelope is still there. I walk over and sit down, opening it. Inside, nestled beside the thick stack of bills, is an ID. A black credit card is also present. The ID looks real, and I scan the name on it. Charlotte Andrews. Close. My real name is Charlene Johnson.
This is crazy.
Apparently, if I try to leave behind all that’s been given to me, I will be dragged back. Things like this aren’t supposed to happen in real life, this is something that would only happen in a fiction book. No one is supposed to swoop in and save me from the life I’m living. I didn’t ask anyone to.
My temples throb, and I massage them as I dwell over my situation. Whether I like it or not, Devlin Kade has eyes on me, and I’m stuck living here for the time being—unless I want to risk his wrath. As much as I would like to throw a wrench into his plans, I don’t know him well enough to test him just yet.
Resentment rises deep within me. What makes him think I need a damned babysitter? I’m deaf, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember since I’ve never had anyone to rely on.
The phone draws my attention, and I gaze at it sourly. I’d like to continue my argument with him, but I doubt it’d accomplish anything. He seems to have his mind already made up.
My eyes drift to the closed door. Carter evidently has plans to stay until the mysterious roommate shows up. Disgust floods me. I’m being pawned off to someone like a disobedient child.
I won’t bend beneath their expectations.