Page 15 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

Parker.

Chelsea, England

Her hold on the door frame is tight, her other hand, from where I can see is on her stomach. I think she's about to vomit, but I doubt I'll be good for anything. Her hair is already partially up and out of her face, and I can't exactly touch her, or she'll panic.

Her shoulders bob up and down in short, panting breaths, and the satin cream dress she wears is held up by nothing but flimsy straps, clinging to her curves perfectly. It would take nothing to rip it and have those glorious tits of hers spill free.

But this isn't the time.

And she's not mine.

My hands tremble at the need to settle her, to soothe, to let her know she isn't alone. So, I say the only thing I can think of that might help. "Showtime."

I watch her shoulders square back, and God, when she stands to her full height and turns to look at me, I have to hold my breath for fear of telling her how fucking beautiful she is right now.

Her makeup is done to perfection, with winged eyes and red lips.

That dress. Fuck the neckline hangs low but covers just enough of her cleavage.

The satin clings to her pearled nipples poking through, down to the soft swell of her stomach and her hips - she's a wet dream come to life.

My heart stammers in my chest from lack of oxygen, but goddamn, a man can only be so strong.

I never meant to fall for her.

But somewhere in her headstrong silence and then watching her closer, forced to be around her due to that night, that fucking one time I wasn't there, I learned her .

Every mannerism, every laugh, every fake fucking smile she plasters on her flawless face just so I can tell what she's actually feeling.

.. I can't believe I miss the girl that gave me hell and told me to bugger off.

The girl that drove me insane with her loud music and laughter.

And yes, maybe I fell for this version of her, but the other version was just as good.

Young and naive and silly, and both versions drive me up the wall, but this version of her - hollow-eyed and devoid of life. .. it hurts me.

The fat diamond on her finger sparkles as she smooths down the front of her dress, the light glinting off it from how much her hands tremble that it tears my heart.

Where are you, Sabrina Winters?

It's times like these I know I'll be fisting my cock to thoughts of her later, then feeling absolutely fucking guilty for thinking of my employer like this - she's almost eleven years younger than me anyway.

I'm far too old for her. But then I remember how many times I caught her getting fucked or riding some lucky bastard while her tits bounced, and she'd either lock her eyes on me until she came or kick me out of the room altogether.

Or when I pulled her off some fuck-head's lap, my own cock raging to fuck her the way she needed to get fucked so she'd act right.

The corner of her lips lift in a small smile and her brows shoot up. "Seems like it is."

I look down at her naked, small hands. "Gloves?"

"Mama said my ring should be out today."

She'll break out in hives. They'll be so bad she won't even be able to shower. Shit. I'll send one of the maids out for calamine lotion and oat milk for a bath when this is all over. "I don't think that's a good idea. You'll be touching a lot of people today. Keep the ring over the glove?"

She shudders, contemplating my words. I can see the shift in her gaze, her mind working, and slowly she begins to shake her head. "They'll clash with my dress. Silk and lace, yes, but satin and lace? No, it's best I just deal with it later."

I give one curt nod in her direction when the door to her bedroom opens and Raven walks through the threshold wearing the same dress but in black, along with her boyfriend, Jonas.

She walks past me with a smile on her face, then stands in front of Sabrina.

Her gloved hands lift, the lace stopping at her wrists as if standing in solidarity with Sabrina, and a part of me mentally thanks her.

"Are you ready?" She signs, but Jonas interprets. "They're waiting for us."

Sabrina nods and goes to her dresser, plucking out a pair of gloves that match Raven's, although cream-colored instead of black. She tugs off the large ring, puts on her gloves, and then shoves the ring back into place.

It's like a dagger to the heart.

We go down in twos. I follow Miss Winters, and Jonas trails behind Raven.

I keep my eyes on Sabrina the entire time during her engagement party.

Who she speaks to, who she introduces Maksim to, who she avoids, and when she clings to Maksim a little too tightly when some fuck gets a little too close to her.

Maksim tucks her under his arm, hand on her hip, fingers digging into the satin, only letting his grip loosen when it looks like she's fine.

"She's doing great tonight," Matilda says softly from beside me, champagne flute in her manicured hand, her own large and ostentatious ring sparkling hard enough to blind a pilot flying a plane.

"Is she?" I ask, hands at my sides. It took me a while to get used to this, being a part of the furniture, I mean.

I'm practically a sconce on the wall or a lamp in the room.

There's a buffet of food all along the side bars, catered to Sabrina's favorite foods, but she hasn't eaten at all.

Raven somewhat sticks by her side, or tries to, at least, but when people begin to realize she doesn't talk or won't talk to them, and Jonas is answering all of their questions, they seem to gravitate elsewhere and now both women are looking overstimulated and exhausted.

They're a bit of a pitiful duo.

Jonas and Raven disappear into a coat closet when they think no one is watching, and I smirk.

The party lasts another hour, and once everyone is gone, even Raven and Jonas have opted to stay in a hotel so they can visit his sister in the morning before they leave back to the states.

Apparently, his mom Elena is great friends with Tildy, and I’ve met her a few times before.

Granted, they were both drunk on expensive wine and dancing in the rain to Fleetwood Mac.

I had to carry them both inside. Soaked, but having the time of their lives.

I get the things I had the maid bring for me and take them upstairs, telling them to get the rest of the oat milk and bring it up quickly.

After our last visit, Matilda hired more workers, so they worked diligently this past week.

Now that the guestrooms have been remodeled, Maksim and Sabrina are staying in separate rooms.

I knock on her door twice, softly, so she knows it's me, and she opens the door.

" Please !" Wide-eyed, hair a mess like she’s tugged on it too many time, she screams in a panicked whisper, and I rush into her room, closing the door behind me. "The zipper is stuck on the side. I c-c-can't get it off!"

The hives are everywhere, mostly where people touched her. She’s barely breathing but doing her best to try to breathe through her nose. It’s not working. She’s gonna pass out. "I'm gonna have to touch you."

"I don't care! Please! Just get it off! P-Parker! I can't breathe!"

I dip my fingers into the hole where the zipper is caught on the teeth and whisper a "Sorry" before tearing it apart. Her skin is softer, finer than silk where I touch, and just as I tear it off, there's a thundering of footsteps and a slam of the bedroom door.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"Get me a bath started. Hot. And that bag," I jerk my chin to the bag of items as I run to get Sabrina's robe before she starts hyperventilating.

I put it up like a curtain, keeping my eyes averted to the side until I hear the dress fall to the floor.

"Dump the liters of oat milk into it. The maids are bringing more.

It'll cool the water down until it's lukewarm. Hurry."

He eyes me wearily, but I don't give a fuck. One of us has to take care of her and he sure as fuck ain't the one to do it.He’s a useless, judgmental sumbitch.

"Parker-" she whispers.

"Shh. I know."

Her arms slip into the sleeves of her robe, and she wraps it around herself, tying the knot at her waist. The hives have started crawling up her delicate skin to her neck.

They're not as bad as they can get and that’s a blessing in itself.

The maids are quick, rushing in and dumping the milk into the bath as Maksim watches wide-eyed.

"What the fuck is wrong with her?"

"Nothin’," I growl. Because she's flawless. She's perfect. This is just a small setback.

I guide her to the bathroom by the elbow, the only spot where I'm allowed to touch, and turn my back while she disrobes. She then gets in with a hiss, the water and milk mixture sloshing a bit. After a few deep (but choppy) breaths I calmly ask, "Decent?"

"Yeah, yes, thank you, Parker."

I nod, even though she can't see me, and I can't see her, but I stride off, shoving Maksim out with me by his arm, and I close the door behind me. We stand toe-to-toe. He may be an inch or two taller than me, but that ain't shit.

He looks as bothered as I feel unhinged.

"What was that? Her skin was fucking nasty."

It takes everything in me not to throttle him. "She has an issue with being touched, and she was touched a lot today."

"She has an issue with being touched. She can barely tolerate being out of her house, or loud noises, or crowds."

I quirk a brow. "Isn't that what you wanted? A marriage on paper?"

"What I didn't want... was a weak wife."

"Get out, Maksim."

"You think I'll just let you be in here with her naked in the other room?"

"What's wrong? Afraid I'll touch your gorgeous little wife? Make her come on my fingers, lips, tongue, and cock all while you're sleeping across the hall?"

He grabs the lapels of my suit and gets in my face. "What I won't be, is made a fool of. Real or fake."