“Clothing makes the man, Aristotle. You will dress for success every day, and you will become the man you wish to be.” The worn blue jeans and ancient tank top I wore earlier would have been an embarrassment to him, especially knowing a doctor was willing to make a house call.
As I answer George’s knock, Garrett slams into me, hands on my shoulders, shoving me back into the two-story stucco wall that defines the foyer. I do not defend myself. George succeeds in pulling him back, an arm looped around his neck in a choker hold. “You promised you’d be calm, damn it!” George growls.
“I am being calm!” Garrett bellows, struggling to be free of George’s hold. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
In the Attic, I’ve seen George take down men twice Garrett’s size with his expert holds, so I exhibit little concern, arrogantly brushing down my mussed dress shirt. Crossing my arms and leaning against the wall, I wait, posing, drawing up to my full height, exhibiting my Greek lineage in haughtiness.
For now, she is mine. I’m not giving her back.
I hope my posturing makes that clear enough. I really don’t want to do this, and I don’t want to fight Garrett.
“She’s resting. She’s in bed, she’s conscious, I just want her looked over.” I try to figure out how to explain what happened, saying, “She fainted.” I can’t think of a better way to explain it, saying she collapsed after a week of being caged sounds a little too ugly for Garrett’s ears, at least until he is fully Ice once more.
“Where?” George asks me, still holding Garrett. “Relax already! Let me check her out.”
Garrett sloughs out of George’s hold and assumes a tense position against the opposite wall.
“Second door on the right.” I point him down the hall, holding my position directly across from Garrett.
No way is he getting past me.
George disappears and Garrett and I are silent, both hearing the bedroom door open, his greeting, the note of surprise in her voice, and the door clicking shut again.
“I haven’t hurt her,” I promise Garrett.
“I’ll get George’s professional opinion if you don’t mind.”
I sigh. This is what I didn’t want to happen when I accepted her proposal, putting my friendship with Garrett at risk. “I can’t believe you brought her here,” he accuses, disapproval laced heavy in his tone.
“To your home?”
“It’s our vacation house, Garrett, not my home,” I answer tiredly, squaring my shoulders, feeling defiant. I
do not have to explain this.
“And are your wife and children aware that you are keeping a slave at the beach house?”
“Not that it’s any of your concern, but they’re inCairo for the summer, visiting her father.” I shrug, hoping to make light of the announcement.
Garrett shakes his head and I feel his judgment.
“I did not send them there so that I could keep Celia here,” I revert to her professional name, not wanting to ignite his anger any more than it already is by calling her Kitten. Defending myself, I explain, even though I don’t want to. “Lattie wants to have her baby inAfrica . I couldn’t give her a strong enough reason to prevent her from going, and as her time grows nearer, I’ll join her there.”
“That’s longer than just the summer.”
“I know, Garrett. You don’t have to tell me something I already know.” My voice comes out heated. I am better at controlling emotion than this. Stop it!
“Did she leave because of Kitten?” Garrett asks softly, understanding immediately that there is more happening in my life than he was aware, and not all of it fun and games. It’s what I liked about Garrett the moment I met him, his deductive aptitude and an innate ability to read people and empathize.
“No, not because of Celia, or me…” I shrug, looking at the ceiling for answers and seeing cobwebs in the chandelier. “…once she thought she wanted all the United States had to offer and would have done anything
As I answer George’s knock, Garrett slams into me, hands on my shoulders, shoving me back into the two-story stucco wall that defines the foyer. I do not defend myself. George succeeds in pulling him back, an arm looped around his neck in a choker hold. “You promised you’d be calm, damn it!” George growls.
“I am being calm!” Garrett bellows, struggling to be free of George’s hold. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
In the Attic, I’ve seen George take down men twice Garrett’s size with his expert holds, so I exhibit little concern, arrogantly brushing down my mussed dress shirt. Crossing my arms and leaning against the wall, I wait, posing, drawing up to my full height, exhibiting my Greek lineage in haughtiness.
For now, she is mine. I’m not giving her back.
I hope my posturing makes that clear enough. I really don’t want to do this, and I don’t want to fight Garrett.
“She’s resting. She’s in bed, she’s conscious, I just want her looked over.” I try to figure out how to explain what happened, saying, “She fainted.” I can’t think of a better way to explain it, saying she collapsed after a week of being caged sounds a little too ugly for Garrett’s ears, at least until he is fully Ice once more.
“Where?” George asks me, still holding Garrett. “Relax already! Let me check her out.”
Garrett sloughs out of George’s hold and assumes a tense position against the opposite wall.
“Second door on the right.” I point him down the hall, holding my position directly across from Garrett.
No way is he getting past me.
George disappears and Garrett and I are silent, both hearing the bedroom door open, his greeting, the note of surprise in her voice, and the door clicking shut again.
“I haven’t hurt her,” I promise Garrett.
“I’ll get George’s professional opinion if you don’t mind.”
I sigh. This is what I didn’t want to happen when I accepted her proposal, putting my friendship with Garrett at risk. “I can’t believe you brought her here,” he accuses, disapproval laced heavy in his tone.
“To your home?”
“It’s our vacation house, Garrett, not my home,” I answer tiredly, squaring my shoulders, feeling defiant. I
do not have to explain this.
“And are your wife and children aware that you are keeping a slave at the beach house?”
“Not that it’s any of your concern, but they’re inCairo for the summer, visiting her father.” I shrug, hoping to make light of the announcement.
Garrett shakes his head and I feel his judgment.
“I did not send them there so that I could keep Celia here,” I revert to her professional name, not wanting to ignite his anger any more than it already is by calling her Kitten. Defending myself, I explain, even though I don’t want to. “Lattie wants to have her baby inAfrica . I couldn’t give her a strong enough reason to prevent her from going, and as her time grows nearer, I’ll join her there.”
“That’s longer than just the summer.”
“I know, Garrett. You don’t have to tell me something I already know.” My voice comes out heated. I am better at controlling emotion than this. Stop it!
“Did she leave because of Kitten?” Garrett asks softly, understanding immediately that there is more happening in my life than he was aware, and not all of it fun and games. It’s what I liked about Garrett the moment I met him, his deductive aptitude and an innate ability to read people and empathize.
“No, not because of Celia, or me…” I shrug, looking at the ceiling for answers and seeing cobwebs in the chandelier. “…once she thought she wanted all the United States had to offer and would have done anything
Similar Books
