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She was the first woman I’d ever brought home and allowed in my bed.
But this wasn’t my first go at interrogating a captive. Most of them ended up in the basement for Damon to question. He was more intrigued with that process than I was. I was more direct. I just wanted answers, but I knew as I closed her into my bedroom and locked the door that retreating would get me further than pushing her.
She was too resistant, still hyped up from the fear of being taken. If I wanted to analyze the situation deeper, I’d wager a guess that she was too frightened from witnessing Lenny’s death, too.
I’ll give her some time.
Space and a breather from the intensity of facing off with me.
It had to help.
Besides, I hadn’t missed the growls from her stomach. Dark bags showed under her eyes, and it bothered me that she mighthave been so weak to pass out like she had because she was malnourished.
In the kitchen, I ordered the cook to prepare a tray of food for her. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night. Someone was always on duty there. While he readied some simple comfort food and a drink for her, I tasked one of the men to go into one of the guest rooms in Saul’s apartment and retrieve clothes that he sometimes kept for his lovers. He never committed either, but he would take a lover for a week or so now and then, and he’d have things for them.
Before I returned to my floor and brought Sloane the food, water, and clothes, I detoured to check on my father. Like every other time I got paranoid and wanted to make sure he was alive, I stepped quietly and carefully, holding my breath and dreading that he could actually be dead this time.
We wouldn’t be surprised like that. Sensors and monitors were hooked up to him. His vitals were tracked every minute of the day and night now. Round-the-clock care was supervising his recovery, but still, the fear remained.
Sloane wasn’t lying when she admitted her biggest fear was being owned and controlled. I believed her. I saw the depth of stark fear and sincerity in her eyes.
She had her fear. It was one among a million more things I would learn about her. I wanted to know everything about her and planned to acquire that knowledge. That was how severely she was messing with my head already.
But my fear was this.
Finding my father dead. Realizing that I would now be the boss.
I dreaded those events, not only because I loved and honored my father and wanted him to be with me but also because I wasn’t keen on taking over yet. Not for good. I still wanted tolivemy life, not rule all the others’.
He was alive, though, sleeping away and hopefully recovering in this coma-like state that the doctors believed would benefit him most right now.
As I looked him over, reassured that he hadn’t completely left me in this world yet, I sighed and debated whether taking Sloane was the right thing to do now. I didn’t need her as a distraction. I had to focus on finding out who poisoned him.
But if I don’t keep her close, I’ll be obsessed with wanting her near.
I left my father’s floor and returned to the kitchen, convinced that there was no way I couldaskSloane to stay and be here when I wanted her as my mistress. She was too combative and defensive. I had to take this approach with her to get what I wanted, and I always did in the end.
You’re not going anywhere, Sloane.
I paused at my bedroom door with the tray of food in my hands and the clothes draped over my forearm.
You’re not going anywhere until I say so.
Yet, I smiled at the weird thrill of not knowing how she’d react to me now. Envisioning her standing near the door to break out and run shouldn’t have excited me, but I relished the chance of her fighting back.
I unlocked the door and waited for the sound of her footsteps.
Nothing came.
I opened the door and let it swing in a bit.
Still nothing. Not a sound. No movement at all.
Alert and excited to see if she’d be waiting to attack and escape, I entered the room and found the bed empty. She wasn’t hiding near the door, though. The sound of running water in the bathroom notified me that she was showering.
I narrowed my eyes, hearing a slight swish of fabric to my left.
Or not showering.