Shadow Reaper (Shadow #2)(25)

She could get lost in that bed. It was big enough for several of her. The mattress was comfortable, but she couldn't relax. She'd bought herself time and a place to hide, but now she had to figure out what to do. It came back to the money. She'd read the contract carefully, looking for hidden clauses that might put an unsuspecting woman in jeopardy, but she didn't find any. He hadn't asked her to remove her clothes  – and she'd been expecting that request. Most of the photographs in the book she'd brought along were of her mother as a nude model in the various poses. 



So why so much money? He hadn't mentioned sex and there was no mention of it in the contract. There were locks on her door. She'd gone exploring  – he'd told her to familiarize herself with the layout of his home, just to stay out of his master bedroom. She hadn't planned on obeying that directive, especially when he'd left her alone while he went out.



She was a shadow rider  – and a good one. She had little pride, but she knew she excelled at her work and few were faster than she was moving through shadows. She could deliver justice quickly and painlessly and did so often. She couldn't penetrate the shadows to slip under Ricco Ferraro's bedroom door. She used light in order to throw shadows, but each time she stepped into them, feeling her body wrench apart, she hit some kind of barrier and couldn't continue into his room.



She'd picked the lock and broke in the old-fashioned way. She needed to know what it was he was hiding. Nothing, it appeared. She expected to find a dungeon with all kinds of bondage toys. He liked Japanese art and had amazing pictures of various forms of rope art on all the walls. The bondage was beautifully portrayed and tastefully photographed. She didn't find a single cane, whip or flogger.



There was a room where the lighting was perfect with an entire wall of ropes, all of various colors, made from hemp, silk or cotton. She found herself touching them almost reverently, running her finger along the rope as if it were his arm. A part of him. It had felt like an extension of him when he'd looped the silk around her wrist. She found her heart accelerating and turned abruptly and left his side of the house to go to her room.



All down the wide halls were numerous pictures of Japanese art. Gorgeous prints. She looked closer and gasped. Not prints. The real thing. One extremely large room held a collection of ancient Japanese weapons. Each era had its own space on the wall, and the weapons, as old as they were, were cared for and displayed behind glass. There were hundreds of them. Old books, all in Japanese, were displayed as well, carefully preserved, and she knew they were first editions.



The house itself was two stories, beautiful and quite large. Outside he had amazing gardens, all protected from the outside world by high, thick walls. There was a waterfall that fell into a cool, shaded pool where trees wept lacy leaves and ferns grew along a narrow stream. Koi swam lazily, protected by water lilies in the large pond. Everything in and out of Ricco Ferraro's home spoke of peace and serenity when he was anything but. He was a puzzle and one she had to figure out fast.



He was extremely wealthy and very good-looking. He exuded sex appeal. He was the most sensual person she'd ever met in her life. He didn't need to offer that kind of money to find a partner who would indulge in kink with him. Most women would be more than willing. So why advertise for a rope model and pay such an exorbitant amount if he wasn't planning to use the woman for sex?



She dressed carefully, needing to feel as if she had some armor. Ricco had stripped her bare with just the sound of his voice, and she needed to feel on equal footing. She'd wanted a simple solution, for Ricco Ferraro to be a monster  – a man preying on women, perhaps  – but that didn't make sense. She sighed and picked up her brush, stroking through the shoulder-length blond waves. If she were honest, his being guilty wouldn't have been a solution, either. She hoped it would, but she knew better.



A knock on her door made her jump. She wasn't a woman to be startled, nor did anyone sneak up on her, but she hadn't heard a single footfall.



       
         
       
        



"We're leaving in ten minutes."



She took a breath. His voice was very compelling. "I'll be ready." That was part of the contract. They were to spend most of their time together in order to get to know each other. That suited her fine, although …  She twisted her hair up into a loose bun that wrapped around the back of her head and gave her more height as well. She secured the mass with long hairpins that could be used to defend herself if necessary.