Page 15 of Relentless Sinner
I wasn’t in the right frame of mind last night to take in the beauty of this place. Now I see it and I’m surprised that someone like Jaxon lives here.
The house has a French Provençal meets Renaissance design that would suit someone much older than Jaxon.
I’m thinking that but I don’t even know how old he is. I guessed early thirties, but his beard makes him look older.
I walk towards the staircase and can’t help but stare at the sheer magnificence of the paintings on the walls around me.
I grip the banister, my fingers tightening around the smooth wood as I descend the wide staircase taking careful steps.
I feel eyes on me, then I see one of the guards from last night standing in the archway.
My stomach squeezes at the thought of having guards in the house. I don’t know if that’s a normal thing here or if it’s because of me. Because I tried to escape last night.
Dad didn’t have guards inside the house. That was how he got away with being so horrible to us.
When I reach the bottom I smell coffee and breakfast foods. I also hear talking, so I follow the sound and the scent.
I walk into the dining room where I find Jaxon sitting at the head of a long, dark wooden table. He’s talking in Russian to the elderly maid who tended to me last night.
I stop and wait at the doorway while they speak.
The lady never told me her name, which was understandable given the hostage circumstances in which I arrived.
When Jaxon finishes talking she glances at me and gives me a small smile. She has a stern but kind grandmotherly look withher light blonde hair and well-put-together attire that reminds me of the Countess of Grantham fromDownton Abbey. I get the feeling that she would be more sociable if not for the man sitting next to her.
She dips her head politely and takes her leave, exiting through the large wooden door opposite.
Jaxon switches his gaze to me, with cold, calculating eyes that make me want to shiver.
His eyes are brighter in the morning sun, allowing me to see the danger lurking within them. Along with that spark of desire I witnessed last night as he stared at me practically naked on his bed.
An unwelcome blush heats my cheeks at the memory, which I push away and try to steady my mind.
“Good morning,” he says in that deep, low voice.
“Good morning.”
“I see you found your way out.” His lips curve into a playful yet menacing smirk.
“Why did you let me out?”
“Because I’m not in the mood to play cat and mouse with my wife-to-be. Neither am I in the mood for keeping prisoners. I have places for people like that.”
I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that but the thought of him having prisoners locked in some dungeon somewhere makes my skin crawl.
“Does that mean I’m not a prisoner?” I sound more confident than I feel.
“That all depends on you, Gabriella De Costa. Come sit.” He points to the chair next to him. “Let’s eat and talk. There’s a lot to discuss.”
Being anywhere near him is the last thing I want to do but this may be an invitation to get the information I seek. And just maybe the building blocks to finding a way out.
I walk over to him and sit. The moment I do the smell of the food grabs me. I ate last night when I got here but now I’m starving like I haven’t eaten in years.
Ten days in captivity with nothing but moldy bread and water will do that to you.
“Eat,” Jaxon says, as if reading my mind.
I glance at him then decide to serve myself some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.