Conquer Your Love

“That way.” I pointed down the corridor and squealed as he took off, still carrying me over his shoulder. I could feel his hands burning my back, especially my ass, and they were beginning to roam again. I didn’t mind but I wanted food first.

We reached the kitchen and Jett put me down. And then he left again and came back with the cardboard box. I peered over his shoulder as he unpacked its contents. Instead of ordered restaurant dinner, it looked as if Jett had every intention to cook for me. Again.

“Isn’t it in the least weird that you’re always the one who brings dinner or lunch?” I asked.

“You forgot to add breakfast.” A smug smile spread across his beautiful face as he shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair, revealing the most amazing rows of pecks and biceps I had ever seen—all partly hidden under a highly annoying snug white tee. My mouth turned dry at his sight. “The way I see it there’s nothing wrong with that. If I cook dinner, you’re happy, and I get what I want,” he said, grinning.

I punched his shoulder playfully, not offended but just to use any excuse to touch him. “If I cook next time, will you do what I want?”

Stopping in his tracks, he cocked his head to the side as though to consider my proposal. “Maybe. That depends. Can you cook?”

I couldn’t and he knew it.

“Does ordering count?”

He raised an amused eyebrow. “For all of five minutes. It certainly doesn’t earn you the same privileges like a full three-course meal.”

“You never let me be in control.”

“That’s because you love me to be in control.” He inched closer and I took a few steps back until my back hit the wall.

“That’s not true.”

It was. I just didn’t want to admit it.

His mouth came so close I could smell the faint scent of mint and that intoxicating fragrance of his that always made my knees buckle beneath me.

“Are you up for a bet, Brooke? Let’s say a game of Spades? If you win, you get to do whatever you want to do to me. If I win, I can choose what I want. I have whatever dessert I want.”

Jett stretched out his hand. I shook it with a smug smile on my face. I was the best Spades player I knew. I had never lost against anyone. The guy was in for a big kick in his ego.

“You’re on,” I said. “Get ready to lose, sucker.”

“You think?” He propped his strong arms against the wall on both sides of my neck, caging me in. His mouth descended to trail down my neck and shoulder, his teeth removing the tiny shoulder strap.

“I like a good challenge. A test. But I don’t want you to lose, baby,” he whispered, his hands moving around my ass to lift me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I let him carry me across the kitchen and set me down on the edge of the kitchen counter. “What if I cook and you just stir?” Jett continued huskily. “You can’t really do much wrong and we both get to have what we want today.”

His fingers fuddled with my dress until I felt his talented hand between my legs, testing my panties and self-control.

“Sounds like someone’s a big scared pussy.” I moaned as his hand began to rub ever so gently, sending a first jolt of heat through my core. My legs tightened around his waist and I pulled him closer. His thighs were wedged between my legs now, his hand replaced by the bulge in his jeans. He moved in slow motion—up and down—imitating the slow rhythm of our lovemaking until the coarse material of his jeans began to chafe my clit through my panties. My head shot back and another moan escaped my lips, silently demanding more.

“I’m just concerned for you. That’s all.” His lips curled into a stunning smile, making me yearn to do all the unspeakable things I always wanted to do to him.

“A bet is a bet. You can’t back out of it now, just because you’re scared.” My hands trailed down his rock hard abdomen to his jeans, ready to unzip him and give him a good ride of pleasure.

“What are you doing?” He stopped my hands, his breathing coming hard. “You haven’t won yet.”

I laughed. “Are you serious? Am I supposed to wait, even though you know I’ll win? What happened to keeping me happy?”

“There’s plenty of time for that later.” He kissed me quickly and helped me off the counter. “How was your day? What did you find out?”

And just like that, in the blink of an eye, our moment was gone, and Jett’s expression was back to its usual casual self. The guy didn’t just have an inflated ego, he had also the self control of a statue.

Damn it!

“How do you know I found out something?” I smoothed my dress, fighting the urge to smirk at him.

“From Sylvie.” He moistened his lips and regarded me amused, probably inwardly laughing his head off at the disheveled state of me. “She said you had things to discuss with me alone and that I should bring dinner. Knowing you two, it wasn’t hard to guess you must have discovered something.”

He was right, as usual, but I couldn’t tell him Sylvie only left us alone so I could talk to him about my feelings.

I moved past Jett, doing my best not to touch him, and handed him the folder containing the financial reports.

“Clarkson dropped of the estate’s financial reports. Sylvie’s adamant, there’s too much money coming in and going out at regular intervals.”

“And you want to know what that’s all about,” he said matter-of-factly, making no move to open the envelope. I wondered if he had seen the reports yet. “I could show them to my accountant.”

“That’d be great.”

“My pleasure.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to steer the conversation to the wine cellar. There was a chance I was blowing it out of proportions and I didn’t want him to think I liked melodrama.

“The basement was recently re-painted which strikes me as odd because when I met with Alessandro a few days ago, he insisted that I make no alterations to the house.” Peering up, I met his questioning gaze. “It’s probably not a big deal but I’d like you to have a look.”

***

Clad in only a thin half-length dress, the air felt so cold my skin turned into goose bumps. I suppressed a shiver and wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm. I expected Jett to laugh off my implausible explanations. I even expected irritation, just not—silence. Jett remained quiet for at least ten minutes, his face an expressionless mask as he followed me down to the basement and then listened to me recalling my conversation with Sylvie. I watched him moving from one cell to the next, smoothing his hand over the walls, tapping, and moving bits and parts of the heavy rack around, absorbed in his thoughts, which he didn’t seem to want to share with me just yet. In the background, I thought I could hear the tapping sound of raindrops falling. The usually soothing sound made me nervous, maybe because the place gave me the creeps and my nerves were on edge. For the first time I realized I couldn’t be comfortable living in this big old house all by myself.

Standing next to Jett, the seconds became minutes and I felt silly dragging him down here for no reason at all. My suspicion had been roused by nothing but my absurd need to see hidden motives where there might be none.

“Maybe we should head back upstairs. It’s probably not a big deal anyway,” I said. “Alessandro probably wanted to paint all the rooms but his health deteriorated and he never got the chance.”

I came to the conclusion that had to be it. The most likely reason was also the simplest one.

“Possibly,” Jett replied, his voice giving away no clue with regards to what he really thought. He caught me crossing my arms over my chest and shrugged out of his jacket, then wrapped it around me.

“Put it on.” His tone left no room for discussion.

“I’m not that cold, but thanks,” I lied yet made no move to remove his jacket because I loved his smell. It was warm and hugged me like a cocoon. Inhaling his scent, I stared at Jett’s bulging biceps as he strained to push the rest of the wine rack aside. His muscles flexed beneath the tan skin, and he let out a low groan as the rack moved an inch with a loud grating noise.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, half amused, half aroused. My tongue flicked over my lips as I watched his strong arms, his broad shoulders, and the thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. With his snug shirt and mouth-watering torso, he looked so darn sexy and enticing my body began to clamor for him.

“No. Just wait there,” Jett said.

Basically, he was sending out an open invitation for me to stare some more.

The rack moved another inch, then a couple more. Jett’s face contorted from exertion, as he pushed it to the middle of the tiny room, almost blocking the door.

“The proportions of this room aren’t right,” Jett said.

“Uh-huh. It’s quite small.” I nodded, not getting what he was on about. It was probably a men thing. Like cars and sports. You play along, pretend you know what they’re talking about, when in reality you can’t stop thinking about how hot they are.

“It’s an old house. They probably didn’t have a good architect back then.” I watched him brush his hands over his thighs to dust off his jeans and instantly wished he’d let me do it.

“That’s not what I meant, Brooke,” he said, turning to regard me. His eyes lingered on me a bit too long, penetrating my mind and body. I instantly felt flustered, both from the fire I saw in his eyes and the fact that I knew he sensed just how much he turned me on. “I think the room was cut in half.”

“You mean there’s another part somewhere?” It wasn’t my brightest statement but his words made no sense.

“Listen.” He knocked on the walls to his right and left. The noises sounded different—one hollow, the other muted. “It was divided. The rest is on the other side.” He pointed to his right.

I stared at him in silence for a moment, and that’s when it dawned on me.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Jett said.

My fingers touched the grainy surface and I knocked, listening to the hollow sound. My insides began to twist, my instincts warning me. It was as if only inches separated me from something so terrible it made me sick.

“There’s only one way to find out for sure, you know?” Jett’s eyes fixed on me. “We’d have to smash in the wall. We could keep the damage small, so it can be easily repaired and no one will notice.”

Opening Pandora’s box.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.

“Alessandro’s been pretty clear in his wishes,” I said.

“You’re the heiress. You have a right to know what’s behind that wall.” Jett’s voice was determined, rough, almost cold. And as usual, he had a point. ”Once you inherit this estate, you automatically inherit its demons. You need to know what you’re dealing with.”

A shiver ran down my spine. A voice inside my head urged me to run away as fast as possible and yet my legs didn’t move. I wanted to know and yet I didn’t. I could just honor Alessandro’s wish and pretend for the rest of my life that this wall didn’t exist. But could I live like that? In fear. Not knowing what lay hidden beyond. Always wondering. Obsessing.