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a chaise lounge where he shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the lounge.
    Eyes still on me, he walked to the side of the bed where he stopped, stood and said, “Come here, Leah.”
    Again, I noted, he didn’t even say “hello”.
    I didn’t complain at his lack of greeting. Nor did I greet him.
    I walked toward him.
    Not because I had no control over my own body. That had been too humiliating to endure again.
    But because I had no choice.
    And that sucked .
    He was just as huge and overwhelming as I remembered. More so in this smaller room standing by a bed with me in bare feet.
    His eyes were more intense too. Far more intense. Scarily more intense.
    I stopped a foot in front of him and tipped my head back to look at him. I didn’t know him at all but he looked strangely disappointed.
    I realized why when he spoke. “Not feeling stubborn tonight?”
    I was stubborn every night. And every day for that matter. I just wasn’t stupid.
    “My mother says, if I run and break the contract, you can hunt me down and murder me.”
    His head tipped very slightly to the side.
    Then he said somewhat hesitantly, “That’s right.”
    “Well, even though the next however long I’m with you is going to stink, I kinda like breathing and I definitely don’t want you to get your kicks out of taking my life, so, no. I’m not feeling stubborn.” I tilted my head back, exposing my throat, tensing my body and ungraciously invited, “Have at it.”
    I waited, slightly panicked and definitely scared, to be torn asunder.
    Instead, I heard his rich shout of laughter before I found myself in his lap.
    That’s right. One second I was standing one foot in front of him offering him my blood as his lifeline. The next second (or maybe half a second), he was seated. I was in his lap, one of his arms tight around my front and hip, the other one strong along my spine between my shoulder blades, his fingers in my hair. My torso was pressed to the surprising warmth of his, my arms crushed at my sides.
    His face was in my neck and he was still laughing.
    He did this for a while. I sat stiff in his lap while he did.
    Then his head moved, his mouth went to my ear and he murmured, “I knew you’d be fun.”
    “I’m not trying to be fun,” I told the wall behind him with total truthfulness.
    He gently tugged on my hair to pull my head back and he lifted his own to face me. “I know. That’s why you’re fun.”
    I glared. He grinned.
    He looked good grinning or I should say, even better , so I sighed.
    “Can we get this over with, please?”
    His eyes traveled over my face and hair. “Is this all for me?”
    “What?”
    His arm came from around my front and his hand gestured to my head. A hand, I might add, that was just as attractive as he was, all long tapered fingers and strong veins, really, it wasn’t fair.
    “What?” I repeated, still not knowing what he was on about.
    “You’re far more beautiful without all that garbage.”
    I ignored him calling me beautiful. He wasn’t going to be a domineering freak, telling me he was my master one meeting and then charm me by calling me beautiful the next.
    “Or are you trying to turn me off?” he asked.
    “Do you mean the hair and makeup?”
    “Yes.”
    This genuinely confused me, so much so I didn’t guard my answer. “Your lady did it.”
    “My lady?”
    “Edwina. She came in earlier and gave me the works. I thought that was part of the deal.”
    “Edwina,” he muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “too many good intentions, not enough sense.”
    “Sorry?”
    His eyes focused on mine. “Leah, Edwina is your housekeeper. She’s not your lady’s maid. Do what you wish with your hair and your face.” He paused then said, “Or, I should say, do what I wish with your hair and your face which means no more of that .”
    I decided instantly that Edwina was going to do my hair and makeup every time he came over.
    He must have read my mind because he roared