Wanted Box Set Read online

  He opened the door, his dark eyes narrowing the instant he saw me. He banged the screen back with a vicious kick, grabbed me roughly by the arm, and pulled me into the house.

  I shoved him away as hard as I could and rubbed the soon-to-be bruises where his fingers had been. Like I needed more. "Back the hell off. I can't show up to work covered in marks," I snapped.

  "Do you have what I need?" he asked.

  I forced myself not to slink back as I pulled what was left from my advance out of my purse. "This is all I could get for now, but if you give me a bit longer, I can get you more. It's just taking time."

  He leaned over me, one arm above my head, hand pressed against the wall, pinning me against him as with his other hand, he grabbed my jaw and squeezed tight. "I don't want your pocket change. I want the big payout we talked about. The reason I sent you to this job in the first place. If you don't come through, I'll start taking my interest in blood and body parts, and they won't be yours."

  My heart clenched in fear. "There's a safe," I squeaked as he loosened his grip enough for me to talk. "Gemstones and cash. You'll make a fortune."

  "Good. Tell me more."

  "You need a key to the office and a code for the safe. I don't know about other security measures yet."

  "Find out. You have a month."

  His hips pressed against mine and I could feel his arousal at having this power over me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to get out of here. I couldn't go through this again.

  Finally, he let my face go and I pushed him away. "I have to get back to work if you want this pulled off that fast.”

  I’d taken no more than three steps when he asked, "How's Jeremy doing by the way?" He gave me a sadistic smile. "He still staying with his friend Rick?"

  The threat hung in the air between us as the blood rushed from my face.

  "Leave my brother alone…" I warned through clenched teeth.

  "Or what?"

  "Or I will kill you." I stormed out of the house shaking, my breathing coming in short, panicked gasps.

  On the drive back to the Count's mansion, I struggled to calm myself, and as I passed a liquor store along the way, the temptation to stop nearly overwhelmed me.

  It was so hard to avert my eyes from the bottles I saw lined up through the window. I had to remind myself a dozen times just why I've decided to remain sober. Alcohol was never my drug of choice, but it could serve in a pinch, hit that spot I needed, and it was sure a hell of a lot easier to acquire than what I really wanted. But no. I couldn’t. I couldn’t fall down that rabbit hole again.

  I pressed the gas and reached for my water bottle instead. I didn’t have time to get drunk, anyway. I had to concentrate on my plan, and I had only a month to make it all happen. The bastard.

  Which meant I needed to keep my eyes peeled on how to get that key and the passcode. Then, I’d be free. Setting this up would make me right with that asshole and finally give me enough to get my brother out of there.

  Failure was not an option.

  When I arrived at the mansion, it was so quiet I wasn't sure anyone was home, so I decided to use the time to look around. Maybe I’d be lucky and find the key to the office, or a sheet of paper with the safe passcode. Ha! Either way, snooping around would give me a better sense of the space and security, and I could always justify, if I were caught, that I was simply scoping out my cleaning work for the night.

  I started in the kitchen, this time checking every drawer and cupboard for any keys instead of food. My search turned up empty on the key front, but I did discover a box of chocolate chip cookies, so score.

  I made my way through hallways next, poking into the many rooms as I passed them. Most were guest bedrooms that looked like they'd never been used.

  I took my time, keeping my search careful and quiet. Honestly, I was terrified of accidentally walking in on the Count while he slept. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d be pleased with that with all his comments about privacy.

  But then, I could always say I was exploring and got lost, and since it wasn’t entirely untrue, it wouldn't count as a lie.

  As if semantics mattered at this point.

  By the time I got to the third floor, I was pretty convinced I wouldn’t find anything other than more bedrooms. There were a looooootttt of freaking guest rooms. Who knew so many people that you’d need this many rooms all at once? It was astonishing.

  So, I was definitely not expecting what I found when I opened the third door down the hall on the left.

  At first glance, it looked nearly identical to every other room I'd opened.

  The fireplace. The ornate furniture. The fancy four-poster bed.

  It differed only in one detail.

  This fancy bed had a woman's naked body lying on it.

  4

  For a moment, I thought she was dead. She looked so pale, so lifeless.

  But then she moaned and opened her eyes, and I jumped back and let out a scream.

  She sat up and her eyes widened when she saw me. "Who are you?" Then she shook her head and laughed. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I've got to get going."

  She rose from the bed, still totally naked, collected her clothing from various spots around the floor and dressed quickly.

  "Any message you'd like me to pass on?" I asked as she pushed past me to get out.

  She paused and looked me up and down. "Not for him. But for you… if you have the chance, he's the best lay I've ever had. Highly recommend."

  I stared at her, open-mouthed, and I tried to banish the thoughts her comment put into my head, but it was too late. I couldn't erase from my mind the fantasy of the Count and I together, naked, our bodies writhing as we pleasured each other.

  She smiled like she could read my mind, then disappeared down the hall and down the stairs.

  To take my mind off the Count, I decided to start my job a little early and began with tidying up the room that the woman had slept in.

  It was hard to school my thoughts, and I kept vacillating from illicit fantasies of my own to wondering just why she’d stayed in a guest room instead of the Count’s.

  Finally, frustrated and bothered, I gave up searching the rest of the house and returned to my own room.

  When evening arrived, Leonard gave me the tour of the cleaning supplies and then walked me through the various areas, starting with those to be cleaned daily, then on to those simply to be aired out and dusted less often. Fortunately, I wasn’t expected to clean most of the bedrooms every day. That would've required a whole team of housekeepers, not just me.

  The first time I cleaned the mansion, it took me over nine hours and by the end, I’d nearly rubbed my fingers raw.

  My back ached and my cheek throbbed as I headed for the Count’s room. Leonard had stressed I save his for last. And finally, the last it was. With a yawn, I knocked on the door, and when he didn't answer, I let myself in.

  An immaculate room stretched out before me, one already so clean I wasn’t sure what there was left to do other than maybe run a vacuum over the large oriental carpet. Perhaps, mop the exposed hardwood?

  With echoes of my earlier fantasies threatening to parade once again in my head, I cast a quick eye at the bed. There weren’t any naked women hiding in it, and the deep blue silk sheets and comforter were neatly folded, the bed expertly made. The windows were covered with black-out blinds that left the room void of any natural light, and since Leonard told me to leave those alone, so I did.

  Strange how the Count didn’t like windows or the sun. And just as strange that he slept during the day and kept the windows of the house locked down. But then, weren’t the ultra-rich an odd lot, anyway?

  I’d just finished dusting the dresser when I heard a door open and turned around, nearly dropping my cleaning supplies in surprise.

  It was the Count, standing there, totally naked, his body glistening from a recent shower or bath.

  I knew I should look away, make apologies, or run and hide… Hell, maybe
all three, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. His body was a chiseled masterpiece of a sculpture, all hard angles, chorded muscles, and strong lines. God, what would it be like to touch him? Run my hands over those bands of abs? Feel every ripple of strength in him? Small wonder the woman I’d met had been so impressed with him. If he had the bedroom skills to match his looks… Yes, my eyes dropped down. I couldn’t stop them.

  Holy shit.

  The Count cleared his throat. "I think this room is clean enough for now, Kassandra. Thank you."

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts, though it didn't much help. "Sorry, yeah. I didn't know you were in here. I… didn't hear the shower."

  "I was in the bath," he corrected.

  "Right. Well, um. I'll leave you to it, then," I mumbled, turning to leave.

  "I have company joining me soon," he called after me. "Please bring up refreshments when you are able."

  "Will do," I said, closing the door behind me. Once out of his sight, I leaned against the wall to catch my breath, and then walked to the kitchen in a daze.

  His eyes were so penetrating, like he could see straight into my soul. I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered at the thought. Then, I snorted. Hell, if he could see into my soul, I wouldn't be working here.

  I tried to distract myself from the Count and his well-endowed assets, by preparing the refreshments he’d asked for. About ten minutes later, I heard Leonard greet someone at the door.

  A tinkle of a laugh announced it was another woman.

  As the butler escorted her upstairs, I squashed another flare of jealousy and searched for the wine bottle the Count last used. When I couldn't find it, I gave up and filled two cups with sparkling water instead, that and some fruit, cheese, and nuts and I was ready to take the tray upstairs.

  Just as I lifted my hand to knock on the Count’s bedroom door, I heard a moan.

  I paused. Then, curious, I flattened my ear against the smooth, polished wood.

  The sounds of sex—of really amazing sex—created an instant reaction in my body. I shivered and pulled back then placed the tray by the door and turned to walk away.

  But as I passed the bedroom next to the Count's, a bad idea leapt into my mind—a really very bad idea. But I couldn’t stop myself. Quietly, I let myself in, and closed and locked the door behind me.

  I could still hear them through the walls, maybe even better than in the hall. The grunting, the moaning, and the slapping of skin on skin. The woman gasped, her voice riddled with pleasure and the sound tipped me over the edge.

  I dropped onto the bed and laid back, closing my eyes as I slid my hand beneath the waistband of my pants. I lost myself in the fantasy then, drowning in the imagined sensations of the Count’s hands on my breasts, the feel of his body pressing against mine. It had been a long time since I'd had sex or enjoyed the feeling of someone touching me for pleasure—even if not love.

  I stayed there, listening and writhing, and when the girl in the other room climaxed, I joined her quietly, my body releasing the pent frustration I'd been carrying for so long.

  I didn't linger afterwards. I smoothed the bed covers quickly and left before anyone could know I’d been there.

  The warmth running through my body gave me a little lift as I finished my cleaning shift and grabbed dinner to take up to my room. The instant I sank down on my bed, I knew I wasn’t getting up again for a good ten hours or more.

  Even for so much money, cleaning this mansion was a shit ton of work. Something was going to have to give. I’d either have to get faster or I’d demand a different schedule. Maybe if the Count cut back on the women, I wouldn’t have as much work to do.

  That thought pleased me far more than it should have—the Count cutting back part, and annoyed with myself, I turned in the bed, preparing to sleep.

  But even though my body ached and my hands hurt, sleep eluded me. I spent a few hours tossing and turning, until finally, I gave up and got ready for another day.

  When I went downstairs, I found my cellphone on the table in the entryway, along with a key to the house and a note from the Count.

  Your service last night was appreciated.

  * * *

  Two weeks flew by in a flurry of routine and stolen glances of the Count as he escorted a new woman—sometimes two—into his room each night. And each night, I succumbed to my fantasies of him. How could I stop? He was beyond captivating, and a mystery.

  The past few days, he’d taken to joining me in the kitchen at the end of my shift. I’d sit at the island, drinking tea as he drank his strange wine.

  We didn't always talk. Sometimes, I’d work on a crossword puzzle and he’d help me when I got stuck. His vocabulary never failed to amaze me. I’d never met anyone with such a command of archaic words.

  At other times, we’d each read a book, alone but together.

  Still, through it all, I was counting the days I had left. And I kept my eyes peeled for a chance to borrow his keys so I could make a copy of the office one. But he never left them unattended, instead, he kept them in his pocket, so my chance never came.

  The texts demanding updates were regular, and each morning, I dreaded getting my phone back. It was so hard to read the escalating threats. I’d spent more time than I liked placating Don while checking on Jeremy. Jeremy was having it rough, and each day my heart broke a little more for him.

  God, I couldn’t fail. I had to get him out of all this. He, at least, had to succeed, had to make something of himself. I couldn’t let him follow my path. I just couldn’t.

  One night, the Count came down to the kitchen where I sat engrossed in a new novel while nibbling on an oatmeal cookie. He cleared his throat twice to secure my attention before I noticed him.

  “Sorry,” I apologized.

  "Tomorrow evening I wish not to be disturbed by anything,” he informed me in a distant tone. “You will have the evening off to do as you wish."

  I wanted to ask him what was up, but I knew him well enough to read his expression, one that definitely did not invite inquiries, so I nodded and returned to my book.

  The Count stood there a moment, inhaling deeply, but as he turned to leave the kitchen, he paused and raised a quizzical brow. "Have you been injured?" he asked unexpectedly.

  I blinked, confused. "No?"

  His eyes turned into slits. "You haven't had a cut or been bleeding of late?"

  I felt the color rise on my cheeks. The razor, the cut, the blood, the release, right before I’d come down for tea. "I nicked myself shaving," I said. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. "But it's nothing big."

  He stood there, just watching me for a good ten seconds, and then he nodded once and left.

  I shivered, a little creeped out. How the hell had he smelled my blood?

  After assuring myself I was truly alone, I pulled back my robe and examined my thigh, running a finger over the thin white lines. The pattern of them soothed me in a sick and twisted kind of way, and my eyes began to burn with tears as I considered just how messed up I was. Jeremy deserved so much better than what I was giving him. But I was his best shot at getting out of his screwed-up hellhole of a life to make something of himself, and I wouldn't fail.

  With a sigh, I retied my robe and returned to my book.

  A few minutes later, Leonard came into the kitchen, dressed not for bed for but travel.

  "Are you going somewhere?" I asked, eying his smart jacket and stuffed duffle bag. Wherever he was going, it was for longer than one night.

  "The Count has sent me on an errand,” he replied. “I’ll be gone for at least a fortnight. Will you need anything before I go?"

  "No,” I shook my head and grinned. “I think I've got the hang of things."

  “Then, good evening.”

  “Safe travels.” I said, rising to shake his hand.

  After he left, I settled back onto the stool, feeling a bit strange knowing I’d be alone in the house with the Count for so long. Well, other than his rotating do
or of women, that was… Women who always left looking quite satisfied.

  Each day, I struggled a bit more with the jealousy as well as the thoughts, the curiosity of just what the Count did in bed. God, what would it be like to be the center of his attention? No other man I’d ever met could even come close to his natural sexiness and charisma. The charm oozed off him so easily.

  If only…

  I scowl, irritated to find myself succumbing to such thoughts once again. I sure as hell couldn’t initiate a relationship with my boss. That was just generally a bad idea. And doubly one when you’re trying to rob him. Yeah, I didn’t know a lot about love or romance, but even I knew that wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

  Feeling frustrated, I left the kitchen and made my way into the media room. It was a virtual theater, complete with the most comfortable reclining chairs and a giant screen hanging on the wall for watching movies. A bar sat in the corner, but I knew it no longer stocked alcohol. I’d checked. Several times. Each time after I’d texted Don.

  Still, I came to this room often and for a different reason. I came trying to find answers to the past, but no answers were forthcoming.

  "Would you care to watch something?"

  I spun around to find the Count standing there, studying me with his magnetic dark gaze.

  "No, um. I was just… " I fumbled for words. Then, I blurted, "Did you know someone was murdered in this house?"

  He tilted his head. "Yes, I'm quite aware."

  I stared at him, astonished. "And that doesn't bother you?"

  He responded with a casual shrug. "No. Death has never been a particular worry of mine. And as for violence, I'm fairly impervious.” He entered the room and took a seat in one of the chairs to stretch out his long, elegant legs. "Does it bother you?" he asked with a curious lift of his brow.

  It did. A lot. I took the liberty of sitting in the chair to his right as I confessed, "I was here. The night it happened."

  That surprised him. I could tell by the way his eyes widened. "And yet you chose to work here? Why?"