Page 16 of Wanted

Two weeks flewby in a flurry of routine and stolen glances of the Count as he escorted a new woman—sometimes two—into his room each night. And each night, I succumbed to my fantasies of him. How could I stop? He was beyond captivating, and a mystery.

The past few days, he’d taken to joining me in the kitchen at the end of my shift. I’d sit at the island, drinking tea as he drank his strange wine.

We didn't always talk. Sometimes, I’d work on a crossword puzzle and he’d help me when I got stuck. His vocabulary never failed to amaze me. I’d never met anyone with such a command of archaic words.

At other times, we’d each read a book, alone but together.

Still, through it all, I was counting the days I had left. And I kept my eyes peeled for a chance to borrow his keys so I could make a copy of the office one. But he never left them unattended, instead, he kept them in his pocket, so my chance never came.

The texts demanding updates were regular, and each morning, I dreaded getting my phone back. It was so hard to read the escalating threats. I’d spent more time than I liked placating Don while checking on Jeremy. Jeremy was having it rough, and each day my heart broke a little more for him.

God, I couldn’t fail. I had to get him out of all this. He, at least, had to succeed, had to make something of himself. I couldn’t let him follow my path. I just couldn’t.

One night, the Count came down to the kitchen where I sat engrossed in a new novel while nibbling on an oatmeal cookie. He cleared his throat twice to secure my attention before I noticed him.

“Sorry,” I apologized.

"Tomorrow evening I wish not to be disturbed by anything,” he informed me in a distant tone. “You will have the evening off to do as you wish."

I wanted to ask him what was up, but I knew him well enough to read his expression, one that definitely didnotinvite inquiries, so I nodded and returned to my book.

The Count stood there a moment, inhaling deeply, but as he turned to leave the kitchen, he paused and raised a quizzical brow. "Have you been injured?" he asked unexpectedly.

I blinked, confused. "No?"

His eyes turned into slits. "You haven't had a cut or been bleeding of late?"

I felt the color rise on my cheeks. The razor, the cut, the blood, the release, right before I’d come down for tea. "I nicked myself shaving," I said. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. "But it's nothing big."

He stood there, just watching me for a good ten seconds, and then he nodded once and left.

I shivered, a little creeped out. How thehellhad he smelled my blood?

After assuring myself I was truly alone, I pulled back my robe and examined my thigh, running a finger over the thin white lines. The pattern of them soothed me in a sick and twisted kind of way, and my eyes began to burn with tears as I considered just how messed up I was. Jeremy deserved so much better than what I was giving him. But I was his best shot at getting out of his screwed-up hellhole of a life to make something of himself, and I wouldn't fail.

With a sigh, I retied my robe and returned to my book.

A few minutes later, Leonard came into the kitchen, dressed not for bed for but travel.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, eying his smart jacket and stuffed duffle bag. Wherever he was going, it was for longer than one night.

"The Count has sent me on an errand,” he replied. “I’ll be gone for at least a fortnight. Will you need anything before I go?"

"No,” I shook my head and grinned. “I think I've got the hang of things."

“Then, good evening.”

“Safe travels.” I said, rising to shake his hand.

After he left, I settled back onto the stool, feeling a bit strange knowing I’d be alone in the house with the Count for so long. Well, other than his rotating door of women, that was… Women who always left looking quite satisfied.

Each day, I struggled a bit more with the jealousy as well as the thoughts, the curiosity of just what the Count did in bed. God, what would it be like to be the center of his attention? No other man I’d ever met could even come close to his natural sexiness and charisma. The charm oozed off him so easily.

If only…

I scowl, irritated to find myself succumbing to such thoughts once again. I sure as hell couldn’t initiate a relationship with my boss. That was just generally a bad idea. And doubly one when you’re trying to rob him. Yeah, I didn’t know a lot about love or romance, but even I knew that wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Feeling frustrated, I left the kitchen and made my way into the media room. It was a virtual theater, complete with the most comfortable reclining chairs and a giant screen hanging on the wall for watching movies. A bar sat in the corner, but I knew it no longer stocked alcohol. I’d checked. Several times. Each time after I’d texted Don.

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