Page 42 of Dark Knight

“Soon, but not yet, sunshine. For now, you need rest.” Each word was painful to say, but I didn’t want her to regret being with me or feel like she had to satisfy me somehow to earn her keep.

Evie pouted slightly. “Can we at least cuddle?”

I nodded, and she pulled off the robe and kicked off her slippers before climbing into bed. The tank and shorts she was wearing almost undid the words that had just left my mouth. Would this be a test of my patience and restraint? Absolutely. If there was one thing I was good at, though, it was self-discipline. If I could just remind my dick of that, I’d be fine.

Once she seemed settled, I climbed onto the bed as well, staying above the covers to lessen the temptation, and let her snuggle up to me. Within moments of her head landing on my shoulder, she was out. I was fascinated by her, even as she slept. She was a beguiling woman, one I’d never planned on entertaining for this long, but just knowing her for the short time that I had made me want to protect her.

Whoever was trying to hurt her would have to go through me and my empire first, and I’d make it damn hard for them to get to her. If they somehow succeeded and even one hair on her head was hurt, they’d pay for it.

21

Evie

A soft rattling noise drew me back to consciousness. The way I clutched a pillow to my chest reminded me that I had fallen asleep snuggling with Dylan, which brought a smile to my face. Who would have expected him to be such a softie underneath it all?

The noise sounded again, reverberating throughout the room and making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

As I became more aware of the sound, my body tensed, muscles going rigid. Dylan said he would lock the door behind himself, but that was definitely the door handle moving. The door wasn't opening though, so I assumed he had actually locked it.

So who was trying to get in if they didn't know the key code? The pit in my stomach told me I already knew who was trying to get in. I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

It hurt that Dylan hadn't believed me, but I also wanted to believe him more than I wanted to be right. It was why I let him talk me into staying in his room in the first place. None of that mattered if I was the one who was right and somebody really was in the house and trying to harm me.

The door handle rattled softly again, and I could tell that the person on the other side of the door was trying to be quiet. After all, it was a very subtle noise, but it was one I couldn't ignore.

I wanted to get up and hide, to find some little nook somewhere that I could cram myself into so whoever was searching for me wouldn't be able to find me. The fear that made me want to hide was nothing compared to the terror that kept me frozen in place.

My limbs wouldn't move, and my lungs would barely even expand. What if the person could hear me rustling around in the sheets? Would they know I was in here if I padded across the floor to look for a hiding spot and a floorboard creaked? What would they do then? Would it increase their resolve to break into the room?

All of these thoughts ran through my head. Different scenarios, different ways that I could trigger the person to be more violent than they had been up to this point. I barely breathed as I laid there. All I could do was listen to the alternating sounds of the door handle rattling and the person on the other side pacing.

After what felt like hours, they finally moved away. The door handle didn't rattle again, and after I counted all the way to five hundred, I convinced myself that they had given up. That didn't mean they wouldn't be back, so now was my time to act and protect myself.

I wanted to find a weapon, something I could use to defend myself if they succeeded in getting through the door next time. Even though I was fairly confident that whoever was trying to get in was gone, I was still cautious as I got out of bed.

I pulled my robe back on and began to prowl around the room. The place was bigger than any room I had ever stayed in before, including the one I shared with Lyric at Welhurst. I was fairly confident that it could serve as a studio apartment for most people. Hell, I was sure there were some places where this would be luxurious for a studio apartment.

The bed was massive. It was at least a California king, if not bigger, and was definitely the dominant feature in the room. A window took up one wall, almost covering the whole thing–it stretched from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. It was only the bookcases on either end of the window that prevented the window from consuming the entire wall.

On the opposite side of the room, there was a small sitting area with two comfy looking bucket chairs and a small table positioned next to a door. I couldn't remember which one Dylan said led to the bathroom and which one was the closet, but the second door would lead to the other of the two. The third door on the third wall was the one I’d come through that led back out into the hallway.

Other than the nightstands on each side of the bed, there wasn't much decoration. A large, sketched portrait hung above the bed, and there were a few more paintings on the walls. They didn't seem personal, unless Dylan was more artistic than I gave him credit for. It almost looked like everything had been here when he had bought the house, like the art pieces were just for show by the realtor and Dylan just kept them.

I wasn't confident enough to go through the nightstands just yet. It seemed like they would have the most personal items in them.

With a little pep talk, I made myself walk across the empty space in the center of the room. It was where I felt the most exposed and vulnerable. I opened the first door to see that it led to the bathroom. I went and poked around in there.

A huge marble shower took up one side of the room, while a clawfoot tub ran perpendicular to it. A small half-way separated the bathtub from the toilet, with a sink next to the half wall. A large mirror hung above the sink, and cabinets stretched underneath it.

Everything looked so modern that the clawfoot tub was a surprise. The sight of it made me desperately want to take a bath and soak. I had a vision of being one of those women who drank champagne and ate fruit while surrounded by a sea of foamy bubbles. That was just a dream, though. Hell, if I was really dreaming, Dylan and Hud would be there as well, massaging and feeding me or something like that.

I shook the images from my mind, useless as they were, and opened a few of the cabinets. There was nothing unusual in there and certainly nothing that could be used as a weapon, unless I planned to shave the guy to death. If this had been a woman's bathroom, then maybe the curling iron would have worked. I had no such luck in Dylan's bathroom.

When I rifled through as much as I could, I gave up and went into the closet. I hadn't expected it to be as massive as it was. It wasn't just that there were drawers and clothes hanging all around, there were also display cases.

There was an island in the center that was covered in watches and rings, all of which were protected by a layer of glass or acrylic, so they could be shown off but not touched. All kinds of men's jewelry, that I wouldn't ever expect Dylan to wear since he didn't seem like a jewelry kind of guy, filled the case. The whole time I had known him, I hadn't seen him wear anything except a watch.

As I wandered around, I realized that only half of the closet was filled, maybe even only a third. There was so much space in there, that I could only assume the closet was clearly designed for a couple. And it was clearly designed for a couple that had a lot of clothes and expensive items they wanted to keep safe.

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