Page 4 of Wanted

A tall, rail thin man wearing a traditional butler uniform greeted me. "You must be Miss Kassandra Blackwood," he said as he ushered me inside. "Welcome."

"Thanks… er…thank you," I replied, belatedly polishing my speech so I could later polish the silver here.

My phone buzzed in my purse, and I scowled at the annoyance.

The butler’s eyes flicked down, but he said nothing. Instead, he escorted me to a small room a few doors to the left of the foyer and offered me a seat on a plush leather chair. "Please, wait a moment. The Count will be right with you."

Count? I raised an eyebrow. Had he said…Count? Just who the hellwasthis guy? I scanned the room assessing the value of the rugs, furniture, and knickknacks in a cursory calculation. It didn’t take long to determine that, most likely, just one of the knickknacks on his shelf was worth more than my whole life. I couldn’t imagine being so wealthy that you’d spend insane amounts of money on painted eggs or some shit just to display them behind locked glass doors. It was vulgar.

But who was I to judge? After all, I didn’t have two pennies to rub together.

Then, the butler returned, and I stood as he smiled and gestured for me to follow. "Right this way."

He led me through gilded hallways with more molding than wall, and past rooms filled to the brim with priceless antiques. Obviously, the Count had changed a lot about the house since I’d been there last.

Finally, the butler escorted me into an office lined wall-to-wall with leather-bound books. The room was dark and very Gothic, without windows. The only sources of light were the ornate iron candelabras, each boasting five beeswax pillar candles. Strange. The room was an odd choice considering the rest of the mansion had electricity.

Under any other circumstances, I'd have hightailed it out of there. The whole place screamed sexual-assault-that-gets-thrown-out-of-court—that is, if it ever made to court in the first place with me. After all, they’d take one look at how I'm dressed and then another at my past and conclude I’d clearly asked for it.

Yet the more I inspected the place, the more the highly tuned street-smart side of me kept telling the rest of me to calm down, that it wasn’t getting any real rapey vibes.

I hesitated, on the fence, but deep inside, I knew I couldn't just walk away. I didn’t have a choice.

Trusting the street-smarts knew what they were talking about, I stepped inside.

Immediately, the butler left, closing the door behind him with a click.

It was then I saw the man, standing in the shadows. As I watched, he emerged into the circle of candlelight, book in hand.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lighting, but when they did, my jaw dropped.

He was tall, at least 6'3", and elegantly lean in a black suit tailored to his trim, muscular frame. Yet it was his face that drew my gaze, so fine, ageless, and all chiseled angles. His dark, nearly black, eyes glinted in the candlelight or perhaps with a hint of madness.

He looked so elegant, suave, and fierce all at once.

He snapped his book shut and set it on a nearby shelf, his gaze never once leaving mine. “Good evening, Miss Blackwood,” he said as he reached out his hand in greeting.

A shiver ran up my spine the instant our hands met, and almost at once, a wave of unexpected desire rolled over me, making my legs tremble and taking me by surprise. Shocked, I drew a silent, fortifying breath and stood firm, willing myself not to flinch under his gaze or touch. "Thank you for the interview, Mr. …?" I never got a name. Just an address.

He tilted his head, causing a lock of dark hair to fall across his forehead as his long, elegant fingers tightened ever so slightly around my hand. "It's Count… actually."

I narrowed my eyes. "That's rather grandiose," I teased and then promptly bit my lip.Don’t freaking forget your place, Kass.

Fortunately, he didn't appear offended, judging by the wry smile that curved his lips, anyway. "It is a title well-earned," he said mildly. Then, his eyes dropped to my hand, still clutched in his, and I stared at the line of his thick, black lashes as he studied the ink on my arm.

Suddenly self-conscious, I pulled free of his grasp. Instantly, part of me felt a loss at the lack of contact, which was, of course, a shit-ton of pure stupidness, so I mentally clocked myself in the head, hoping to knock some sense into my brain.

"Please, sit," the Count waved a hand at a tufted leather chair as he took the seat behind the mahogany desk nearby. "Tell me, Kassandra. May I call you Kassandra?"

To be perfectly honest, the way he said my name made me a bit lightheaded. I sat down, mentally kicking myself again and forced my mind back to the interview. For the first time, I realized he’d never actually told me his name, but now it felt weird to ask again. "My friends call me Kass,” I said, clearing my throat. “But Kassandra is fine too."

"Tell me, Kassandra, why are you applying for this job?"

This was it, my moment to shine. I looked him straight in the eye and recited from memory the script I'd been given to say, "I'm passionate about housekeeping and finding new and innovative ways to keep a home clean and inviting. I'm organized, strong, and can work long hours without tiring." Ha! What a crock. "I would be an asset to any house." There, I’d nailed every wordandemotion.

The Count leaned back, steepled his fingers, and studied me in the candlelight. The flickering of flames lent him a menacing look but strangely, that only somehow amplified the attraction I felt. This wasn't an innocent boy who didn't know which way was up. This was a man… a man who had clearly walked with darkness and lived to tell the tale—and a man who obviously knew his way around a woman, maybe even women with my kind of demons. My libido warmed at that, a libido that had been very much neglected of late due to my inability to make good decisions on the men front. Yet, while I was a year into taking a sabbatical from men entirely, my libido whispered I just might want to make an exception forthistall drink of water.

Then, I became suddenly aware of the silence hanging heavy in the room and the fact that the Count was just sitting there, watching me.

---