She gasped, his words causing her muscles to tense and her heart to race. “You know who I am.” Why hadn’t he mentioned it earlier?
His expression grew somber. “Of course. I wouldn’t have permitted you here based on your ridiculous application. Consider this a favor.” He took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist, eliciting an involuntary shiver. “And, Danielle, you should know . . . I always collect on my favors.”
Chapter Four
COLE REMEMBERS ME.
Danielle nervously toyed with her locket as she followed a very perky Gracie through the mansion. The woman chattered incessantly and pointed out each room with great detail. So far, she’d learned Cole’s grandfather had built the family home after returning from World War Two and that Cole had turned it into a sex club when his parents had moved out fifteen years ago.
She tried to keep up, but her mind kept wandering back to the feel of Cole’s arms around her and the way his eyes seemed to see straight into her soul.
He not only knew who she was, he’d approved her application because of it. What motivated his decision? Guilt because he’d knowingly allowed her father to go to prison for crimes he hadn’t committed?
For too long, she’d carried around the guilt of causing her mother’s death during childbirth. Saving Tasha, the only mother she’d ever known, would hopefully alleviate some of the guilt, but she also couldn’t ignore the presented opportunity to learn the truth about her father’s alleged crimes and clear his name. She owed it to him after the way she’d left things on her last prison visit. Eight years later, the cruelty of her final words still haunted her.
And yet she’d forgotten everything once that electric buzz filled her body just as it did the first time she’d set eyes on Cole DeMarco. She’d been seventeen when she’d spied him from the stairs of her home. He and her father had finished their meeting and were saying their good-byes.
He’d looked like a hero out of one of her historical romances about pirates, with a goatee and long black hair he wore in braids. He hadn’t worn a business suit like the other men her father did business with, but instead wore jeans and a Detroit Tigers T-shirt. He’d been far younger too. Closer to her age than her father’s forty-five years.
She’d willed him to turn his head. To see her. Just as she’d given up and had been about to go back upstairs, he’d looked directly at her. Their gazes locked for only a moment, but it had been enough to send her pulse skyrocketing and for an ache to settle between her legs.
Then he’d gone, leaving her wondering if she’d imagined it.
But in her fantasy, he’d crossed the foyer of the home and climbed the staircase to her. He’d taken her hand. Her dream fast-forwarded to the moment when he’d taken her virginity and vowed to love her for the rest of their lives.
Although he’d only visited the house a couple more times, she had always made sure to be there on the stairs when he’d arrived and when he’d left. Each time, she’d hold her breath, waiting for that brief moment when they’d make eye contact. He’d never once disappointed her.
How innocent she’d been. How silly. Who would’ve guessed eight years later she’d be living in that man’s sex club?
If she’d known then that a few months later he would destroy her family and have her father sent to prison, she would’ve run back upstairs the minute she saw him and never waited for him on those stairs again.
Shaking her head to clear her mind, Danielle admired the vaulted ceilings, crown moldings, and dramatic archways of the home, overwhelmed by its intricate design. They passed two sets of stairs as well as a vast library she wanted to explore if she got the opportunity. Nothing revealed more about a person than their books.
Without pausing for a breath, Gracie switched from the history of the home to complaining about the snowy weather and then back to how each room was used when Benediction opened to the members at night. Something about a dungeon in the basement and fantasy rooms upstairs. From her description, the mansion sounded more like a castle.
As Gracie led her into the kitchen, Danielle’s stomach cramped from nerves and hunger. Other than that chocolate, she hadn’t eaten a bite since last night’s dinner, too worried about Tasha and what to expect at a sex club. Guess now that she’d experienced both pleasure and punishment, her appetite had returned.
She spotted a bowl of fruit, and while Gracie went over the open kitchen policy, Danielle nabbed a red apple to take up to her room. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t think she could manage anything more.