It’s a good thing I’ve been following my girl. Fuck. That was far too close, and it’s a sign. She’s not leaving me again.
I was her stalker, but now she’ll have to be my captive.
Her eyes widen. She recognises my name.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Scaring her. My gorgeous little doll. Mia bambola.
I suppose this was inevitable. The price of my revenge against the man who killed my parents and siblings.
I slide in beside her in the armoured limo, and help her with her seat belt as we speed away. My driver knows where to take us. Out of the centre of London and back to the leafy comfort of Richmond.
The daughter of the man I live to torture is more beautiful up close, and in my arms, than I realised. Even covered in blood. Taggie’s curly blonde hair is messed up, and she’s flushed. Still recovering from her ordeal with those stupid boys I was saving to die later, when Thaxted was more attached to his newfound sons.
But Taggie is more important than my plans.
“Dominic Richmond,” she repeats softly, and my name on her lips is heaven.
“You can call me Dom, though. Nobody else does.” Not anymore.
“Dom.”
“Yeah.” God, but that feels good. I’ve never thought of it before, but the way she says “Dom” with her little pink mouth, as though it’s something sacred, makes me think how I’d like her to be my submissive, and to be her Dominant. Take care of her and have her obey.
She’d be beautiful.
“Where are we going, Dom?” she whispers.
“Somewhere you’ll be safe.” With me. She’s mine now. “To my house.”
I wait to see if she’ll shrink away, but she doesn’t, and my heart pulses.
I love seeing her wrapped in my jacket. It’s absurdly oversized, but just right. From the moment I saw her, I knew. I had a feeling. The sort that as a person who relies on spine tingles to keep me alive, I’ve learned not to ignore.
This isn’t what I planned to do with my enemy’s daughter, but Taggie has rewritten every rule. All the things I thought were important are dust.
“Thank you.” She looks across at me, and despite the blood spots on her, I’m struck again by how beautiful she is. Her bottom lip trembles. “If you hadn’t found me…”
“I did though.” I’ll always find you. I’ll always protect you. You’re mine.
Those words are too much right now, so I don’t say them, but they’re a promise nonetheless.
“I should go home. My granny will be worried about me.”
“You’ll worry her a lot more if you go home like that.” I indicate her blood-stained clothes. “You can clean up at my place.” I sort of infer that she can leave after that.
Looking down at her ripped dress seems to enhance the echo of what nearly just happened and she’s shaking again when we pull up at the glossy black front door of the house the Richmonds have lived in for generations. It’s a huge, white-painted Georgian mansion, with classic twelve-paned windows and views over the river and Richmond Park. It’s a house meant for a massive, extended family to live and work together in.
Now it’s just me, a lonely metal ball rolling around.
“Oh! You don’t have to…” she exclaims as I pick her up and carry her inside.
“Don.” My head of household is immediately at my side, sounding shaken.
“A glass of water, bar of chocolate, antiseptic—” I bark.
“I’m fine!” Taggie tries to interrupt.
I rattle off the other items I need and Edward replies with a prompt, “Yes, Don.”
In the lounge, I set her on a plush deep-green velvet sofa.
“I’ll get blood stains all over…” she protests and immediately goes to stand.
Kneeling before her, I give her a gentle push back on her shoulder. “It’ll be cleaned.”
She looks up at me, and I stroke her arm through the dark fabric, as though this is a casual thing for me, and withdraw.
The connection between us hums. She’s so sweet, so vulnerable, but she’s brave. I saw her kicking the Thaxted boys, and I’m sure she’d do the same to me if I overstepped.
“You really don’t have to go to all this trouble,” she murmurs, but sinks back down.
I shake my head. She has no idea what I will do for her.
“Show me.”
Blinking uncertainly, she slides my jacket off, and I hiss out a breath. There’s the beginning of pink bruising on her upper arm.
“I thought…” She twists to examine it. “It hurt, but it doesn’t now.”
There’s blood, and when Edward sets down the items I requested beside me, I immediately start wiping it away. The tense feeling in my chest eases a little each time smooth, unbroken skin is revealed.
I clean right down to her fingertips, and she allows me, watching as though she can’t believe it.
When she’s perfect again there, I gesture for her to lean forwards, and check her back. There’s nothing there, and I sigh with relief then move to her feet, trying not to notice too much of the delectable parts of her between.
Her strappy shoes are made for partying not walking, and my big hands envelop her whole foot easily. It’s not until the backs of her calves, and just above her knees, that I find scratches.
Anger rises in me hot as lava.
“Really, the pain is gone,” she assures me.
I have to unclench my jaw with physical effort so I can reply, “I’m glad.”
I touch her knee, and Taggie parts her thighs for me before I’ve even asked, and the air goes thick and scalding in my throat. I can’t breathe for how perfect she is.
Watching her face the whole time, I gently wash away every trace of their blood and their touch. A purification. I’m careful not to touch anywhere inappropriate, and I’m intent on making sure she’s okay.
It’s not sexual, though my cock can’t help but respond to her proximity. There’s more joy and closeness in taking care of Taggie as she deserves than I’ve felt in any of the one-night stands I’ve had.
Drawing the skirt of her dress down, I sit on my heels, clear up, then nudge her glass of water and plate of sweet treats closer to her hand and stand.
“Thank you.”
When I turn back to her, she’s looking up at me, and I know how the sun must feel gazing down on a single, perfect sunflower. I’m this fiery dangerous far-off angry ball of exploding reactions, and she’s a delicate thing that would be burned to charred remains if she comes too close. But the way she tilts herself towards the threat makes me want to protect her even more.
The daughter of Thaxted.
It’s almost Shakespearian. My only love sprung from my only hate.
“You’re welcome.” I’m hoarse with emotion. “It’s late. You should call your grandmother, but I insist you stay the night.”
“I couldn’t, I’ll get a taxi—”
“I insist.” My voice drops to a rough growl.
She presses her lips together, and nods.
My poor body is tensing and relaxing like this is a fucking stress test for a lump of steel. Which to be honest, is the current status for my shoulders, spine, and cock. I gesture for her to go ahead of me, and direct her up the grand main staircase to the upper floor.
“I hope this will be comfortable for you.” I shove the door open, revealing a bedroom, with adjoining library, sitting room, and ensuite bathroom through arched doorways. “All the connecting rooms are for your use. Feel free to look around.”
Her intake of breath is gratifying as she takes it in.
Every detail was hacked and stolen from her life. I am a monstrous bowerbird, making a perfectly decorated nest for my female, hoping to lure her in.
I told myself it was to understand her better, but it wasn’t. It was in the hope of that reaction. Delight.
Though the inevitable questions will be less welcome, and I have the perfect excuse for not answering them now.
“Sleep well. One more thing.” The temptation of her nearby is too much for my threadbare control. “Lock your door.”
She blinks at me in shock.
“If you need to feel safer,” I add, trying to sound reasonable. “You’ve been through a lot. Barricade it if necessary. But I guarantee you are safe in this house.”
“Okay.” She nods.
“You understand?” I repeat. “Lock the door.”
