Page 129 of Pandora's Pleasure
He didn’t miss a beat, just went on ahead and insisted he provide a tour of the place. “The kitchen’s nice, fully stocked. But you can order anything you want from the menus on the counter over there,” he said, pointing. “There’ll always be a security officer outside. Order food for them, too. Best way to win them over.”
“Has there been a threat?”
“No.” He continued to show me around. “Down there is another bedroom. That one has a bathroom en suite. I think the main bedroom will be yours.”
“And Damien’s.”
“Right. In here’s an office. Feel free to use it. Oh, let me show you the TV controls in the sitting room—” He ushered me back that way. “We’ve set up all the channels: HBO, Netflix, and Hulu.”
“I can work it out.” Panic rose inside me as we entered the sitting room. “How long am I staying?”
“It’ll be best if Damien explains.”
“When will he be here?”
Theo glanced at his watch. “Soon.”
This isn’t right.
Everything felt wrong as I tried to peer through the rain-drenched windows, seeing only murky grayness. “Theo, tell me what’s going on.”
Theo fished his phone out of his pocket. A relieved expression crossed his face as he read a text. “Okay, good. Damien’s in the elevator.”
Oh, thank God.
“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Theo stepped forward and started to hug me, but then seemed to think better of it. “You have my number. Call me if you need anything.”
“I have to call my parents.” I reached for my phone.
“Don’t. Not yet. Not until you’ve spoken with Damien.”
“Is something wrong with my family?”
“No, trust me on this. Damien’s got it.” He gestured. “I should go.”
With the slam of the front door, I was left alone. I looked around at the masculine décor with its silver and brown tones and its minimalistic furniture.
Scurrying into the bathroom, I peed and then washed my hands, listening for Damien’s arrival. Clean towels were hung over the bathroom door and I used one to dry my hands. Two plush bathrobes hung on an ornate hook.
I already missed his house.
Near the sink, I saw a selection of bottles and creams ofRare,Damien’s favorite product line for men, proving he used this place. Opening a cabinet, I peered in at the row of toiletries…and packets of condoms.
This was a fuck pad.
Damien’s voice echoed down the hall, beckoning me.
Retracing my steps, I met him in the sitting room. Damien stood there, tall and handsome in a droplet-covered raincoat. His eyes looked haunted and his face wore a conflicted expression.
The hairs on my nape prickled.
“I don’t like this place.” I took a deep breath. “Can we go home?”
He turned his attention to the blurred landscape through the murky windows.
Answers had been within my reach, if I had chosen to use the phone in my handbag. This was why I’d failed so many times—trusting others to know what was best for me. Not listening to my gut when it told me to take action. I’d always let others decide what was right for me.
“Damien, what’s going on?”
