Page 21 of Violent Little Thing

Fire Starter

DELILAH

“ H ow much Clive Christian cologne does one man need?”

My fingers walk over the edge of the shelf the bottles are lined up on, taking in the slightly angled position of each one.

Every bottle is turned so the label is visible without needing to be picked up and I’m not surprised by the detail, considering everything else I’ve learned about Adonis Samson up until this point.

Red Tea Vetiver.

Amberwood.

Jump up and Kiss Me.

My eyes snag on their casual perusal, the last fragrance’s name making me disturb the eerie silence in the room when I suck my teeth.

“Nobody is jumping up and kissing that man.”

Moving on, I scan the assortment of Givenchy fragrances on the shelf right under it before walking a few steps deeper into his closet.

Adonis’ closet is cavernous, bigger than my studio apartment. But again, I’m not surprised.

As I pause in front of his watch display, I take inventory of the labels my father coveted once upon a time. Dupes lined the top of his dresser until the day he died.

But I know the Hublot, Rolex and Patek Philippe watches in Adonis’ possession are authentic.

My feet carry me forward, closer to his bathroom when his attire doesn’t catch my eye. There’s nothing but an endless sea of black, dark grey and navy garments draped over his wooden hangers.

The transition from hardwood to cold tile shocks the soles of my feet as I take a tentative step into his bathroom.

He has all the contraptions I have in mine plus more. My eyes can’t catalogue it all quickly enough, so I force myself to slow down and start with the sink.

Clutter doesn’t exist in his spaces, and the bathroom is no exception.

His electric toothbrush, clippers and soap dispenser are the only things on the vanity.

But when I try to open the smart mirror to reveal his medicine cabinet, a low beeping sound stops me at the same time a numerical keypad appears on the bottom right corner of the mirror.

“Who has a passcode for their medicine cabinet?” I whisper, incredulous.

Annoyed by the setback but not put off, I turn and open his walk-in shower door.

It’s still steamy from his morning shower and the squeegee hanging on a hook outside the door makes me smirk .

“Clean freak.”

The oxblood tile is a nice change from all the neutrals in his closet and the brass finishings have my eyebrows inching up my forehead.

“This is nice,” I murmur before scoping out the products on his shower niche.

All the labels are in French. Except one bottle. It’s ruby red and looks familiar.

Because it’s the same strawberry-scented body wash I use every day.

“Why does he have this?”

The question barely touches my lips when a familiar hold clamps around my biceps, dragging me away from the shower.

My feet flail against nothing as a hard wall of pectoral muscles collides with my back.

“Ms. Rose, what the hell are you doing in my room?”

Adonis really should look into voice acting. The way his heavy timbre wraps around words is spellbinding even when what he’s saying is infuriating.

In front of us, the shower door closes with a soft rattle, obstructing my view while a new onslaught of sensations take over.

“Ms. Rose…”

“I told you I prefer Delilah.”

Adonis doesn’t respond, but his vise like grip on me does. I won’t be surprised if his fingers leave indentations when he finally lets me go.

Without warning, he turns us until we’re facing the mirror and a shocked sound squeaks out of me.

His heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my chest. His breath fanning over my ear is worse, raising a trail of bumps down my neck .

Wait. What were we talking about?

Oh, right.

What the hell am I doing in his room?

Well, for starters, I wanted to get caught.

Call me reckless, but I love the lapse in composure that makes him snap and take hold of me when I throw his world into chaos.

It sends my heart racing knowing I can make someone that mad and there’s nothing they can do about it.

He’s the first person I’ve ever felt safe pushing to their limit and the first person who made me feel safe enough to keep going.

He doesn’t say it, because Adonis doesn’t say much of anything, but I know he won’t cross the line and actually hurt me.

He’ll just rough me up. Snatch me to him until there’s nothing between us.

A rush of adrenaline intoxicates me every time. It started with his arm banding against my throat when I shot him and intensified when he snatched my hair at the root the night he found me in his office.

And now…

Well, I don’t have the words for what I’m feeling right now, but I’ll circle back to that.

“What’s wrong?” I study his agitated demeanor in the mirror, suppressing a grin. “You seem stressed.”

His expression doesn’t budge. “Why is my lawn on fire, Delilah?”

“I don’t know.” I’d shrug but his hold on me is too confining.

And it’s not his lawn. It’s a rose bush .

I smiled when I tossed the match ten minutes ago, knowing it would be just enough to get his attention before Victor clocked in and while Ms. Agnes and Titus were away from the house for their walk.

I snuck back upstairs undetected a minute after Adonis walked down for his breakfast.

It took skill to factor in all those variables…

“Every day, it’s something new with you, Delilah. Let me guess, you gone wake up tomorrow morning and say you don’t remember this either?”

His voice roughens with each word until every syllable is coarse and demanding, robbing me of my ability to remember words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Just as I’m getting used to the strength of his punishing grip, he releases me so suddenly, I would have fallen on my ass if not for the vanity in front of me. I grunt when the blunt edge of the counter knocks the wind out of my lungs.

Unfazed, Adonis spits, “That’s bullshit. You created a distraction downstairs so you could snoop around my room uninterrupted. Do you think I was born last night?”

“No, according to the calendar by your bed, your birthday was almost three weeks ago, and you didn’t say anything,” I report, voice calm, eyes narrowed and accusing.

It’s not even eight o’clock in the morning but Adonis snatches his tie away from his neck, cursing under his breath.

“You are the most childish, reckless person I know.”

He backs up. One step. Then two more.

For good measure, I’m sure.

But the distance does nothing for me. I can still feel him all around me, pressing in and filling in gaps I didn’t know existed.

“Go put on some shoes, Delilah.”

“Why?”

“Just go. Do it. ”

I don’t . I stay right there, staring at his clenched hands since he won’t give me his eyes.

“You know, this never would have happened if you didn’t laugh at me when I said Indigo needed a guard.”

His locs swing with the shake of his head. “I didn’t laugh at you, and that was two fucking days ago. You didn’t give me time to do anything about it.”

“How much time do you n—wait, does that mean she’s getting protection?”

He rubs his thumb over his bottom lip with another shake of his head. “Your shoes, Delilah. Meet me downstairs in five minutes and don’t fuck with anything else before then.”

Adonis doesn’t say a single word to me for the whole thirty-minute ride to wherever he’s taking me.

It’s the first time he’s driven me anywhere and he moves through the Wildwood streets as if they were paved just for him.

Victor is in a black truck two cars behind us, something I never would have noticed if I hadn’t caught a glimpse of the front license plate in the side mirror when Adonis was making a turn.

The first stop catches me by surprise. I’m back in front of Dr. Thomas’ office after being told I’d need prism glasses for my newly diagnosed binocular vision dysfunction (BVD). But that was only two days ago; there’s no way the glasses are ready this soon.

Except, they are ready, and Adonis gets us in and out in less than twenty minutes .

With my new frames perched on my nose, I turn to him as he pulls onto the freeway, farther away from his house.

“How did you do that?”

“What?”

“Get these glasses so fast.” Dr. Thomas had told me they could take up to two weeks to be ready. Yet here we are two days later.

“You needed them,” he says absentmindedly, veering left until we’re in the carpool lane.

His distant tone ensnares me more than the three words he uttered.

I don’t know what I’d been expecting after my little stunt back at the house, but it wasn’t playing passenger princess while Adonis weaved in and out of morning rush hour traffic not bringing it up.

Feeling every bit of the childish he accused me of being in his bathroom, I sit back and adjust the glasses on my face.

“How much were these?” I want to know.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t like owing people money,” I tell him, pulling a small notepad out of my purse.

I pluck a random black pen from his center console and write.

According to my research the other night, these glasses cost anywhere from eight hundred to fifteen-hundred dollars.

So, even though it makes my teeth itch, I jot down the highest number to be on the safe side.

After scribbling a description beside the number, I fidget with the pen and zone out until I notice the car is mysteriously still.

Blinking to clear my cloudy thoughts, I observe the quaint, white brick building in front of us.

There are no signs to indicate what it is, so I turn searching orbs to Adonis .

“Where are we?”

“The Society is having a charity gala next weekend,” he says as a frown threatens to take over his face. “You need a dress.”

The Society and “charity gala” being in the same sentence should be illegal, and I almost roll my eyes until…

“Why do I need a dress?”

“Because you’re my date.”

A silver tray of mimosas teases me when I step out of the fitting room with a growling stomach.

Then my steps stutter because I’m still getting used to these glasses on my face, but more than anything, I have a feeling I’m seeing double because of the lack of food in my system.

Adonis shoved me in the passenger seat of his car before I could think about breakfast.

Now, he sits facing me in a chair that looks like a throne with him in it.

Arms draped.

Legs spread.

Head cocked.

Lips tilted.

His silence is louder than the roar of blood in my ears.

Annoying .

Ignoring him, I walk over to the mirror and exhale at the sight of the dress hugging my form.

The toasted champagne color is a shade lighter than my suntanned skin. I’m glowing and that makes me appreciate the countless hours I’ve spent outside in the past month.

“You like it?” The quiet question startles a gasp out of me as Adonis appears over my shoulder, his eyes cast downward as he tugs at the laces of the corset near the small of my back.

“Does it matter?”

I adore the dress, but I don’t want to wear it anywhere with him.

“Guess not,” he answers, tightening the laces until my breaths are shallow. “But you look pretty anyway.”

The off-the-shoulder style has my neck and chest on full display, and Adonis takes his time observing every inch before his eyes slide down to the high slit on my right thigh.

“It’s perfect,” he praises.

This is only the second dress I tried on, but there was already a curated rack waiting when we got here. Now I wonder if he’d been the one to pick out the options instead of the shop owner. She’s been scarce since we walked in, so it doesn’t feel like a leap to land at that conclusion.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Delilah.” His hands find the hair at my nape, tugging until I’m looking up at him instead of his reflection in the mirror. “A shame you’re such a damn menace.”

Blinking up at him, the curl of his lashes almost hypnotizes me. “I don’t wanna go to the ball with you.”

A smile—a real one—curves his lips. “I didn’t ask. I know how much you like to pretend to forget things, but this arrangement isn’t about what you want. You do what I say until I’m done with you.”

“When will you be done with me?”

Eyes dark as coal jump over my face. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

His fingers slacken, unwinding from my hair and I know something is wrong when I miss his brutal grip .

“Forgive me for not wanting to go back to the place I was kidnapped,” I gripe, busying myself with arranging the skirt of the dress. I’m facing forward again, my stare locked with his in the huge mirror.

Fingering his collar, he grunts something inaudible before saying, “Come with me and Ivy gets protection.”

“Indigo.” He knows her damn name.

“Whatever.” Thick fingers comb through his locs. “Do we have a deal, Ms. Delilah?”

“Yes.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “But she can’t know she’s being watched. Indigo hates that. Just keep an eye on the apartment, so nobody gets to her.”

“Any other demands?”

“No.” I shake my head. “But if something happens to her, I can’t wait to see how one of your precious cars looks swallowed in flames.”

An unimpressed snort follows my threat. “Your negotiation skills need work. Arson is a crime, Delilah.”

“Call the cops, then.” I tilt my head, fluttering my lashes. “I’m sure they’d love to hear everything I’ve been up to for the past four weeks.”

Amusement flits across his features before he uses his hand to mask it. Rubbing his palm over his clean-shaven face, he inclines his head toward the curtain I emerged from.

“We’re getting this dress. Go change, Delilah.”

It takes me double the time to undo the laces on the back of the dress because asking him for help feels like a betrayal, but when I step out of the fitting room again, I run into Victor not Adonis.

His gentle smile warms me as he lifts a brown paper bag.

“What’s this? ”

“Mr. Samson said you might be hungry, so I stopped before I joined you here.”

Oh.

Taking the bag, I peer inside. A plain bagel with a plastic knife and a packet of butter instead of cream cheese. Next to it is a tall fruit cup filled to the brim with cut strawberries and whole blackberries.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Where’s Adonis?”

“He had to go to the office.”

It must be a cold day in hell because I feel empty instead of relieved by that.

An odd sense of abandonment grows into a lump in my throat. He didn’t even say bye.