Marco's Redemption (5 page)

She looked from the hole in her jeans to the piece of paper in front of her, but not into his eyes. He felt the loss of connection and it dismayed him. "I don't want you to sue me." Her voice was soft, but he could hear the frog in her throat.

He leaned back farther in his seat, crossed his ankle over his knee, and put his face in his hand as he continued to study her.

Natalie's pulse was beating so forcefully she could feel it ringing through her ears. She felt more than depressed, she felt beaten down, as if she had no power or control over her life. She felt a sudden sense of being totally at his mercy. And truthfully, she was.

And on top of that, she couldn't believe how austere he was. But he
had
called her 'sweetheart' a couple of times, and each time he did, a small kernel of heat slid through her system. It didn't go with what she knew of him and it confused her even more. His eyes were dark and his face was swarthy, filled with an emotion that was hidden from her. His hair was thick and a deep brown, almost black, and it was cut severely around his skull. From his name and his dark good looks, she imagined he was Italian, and she had to get a grip on her runaway emotions and force herself not to think of every mobster movie she'd ever seen.

He didn't look as if he intended to hurt her.

That, at least, was a good thing.

"You've been in Houston less than a week?" he asked.

His voice when he spoke was sudden, and it snapped Natalie out of the spell she was in. "Yeah, just a few days."

"Leave the small town to experience big city lights?" His voice was low with an almost teasing quality.

"Not exactly."

"Why, then?" He steepled his hands in front of his mouth and his tone dropped just enough to tell Natalie that he meant business. The teasing was over and now he wanted answers.

What could she tell him? Her family's private business was private, as well as a bit unsavory. She didn't want to think about it, much less talk about it with a virtual stranger. "It was time, I guess. I've never lived away from home, but now--"

"Now what?"

"N-nothing. I just wanted to find a better job, so I came to Houston."

"Any particular reason you need the income?"

What the heck did he expect her to say to that? That she had a fairy godmother somewhere, ready to dole out cash as needed? What planet was he from exactly? "I like to eat, wear clothes, have a roof over my head." Natalie looked somewhere to the right of his face, and tried with all her might not to sound sarcastic.

"Do you have a lot of debt?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"I'm trying to figure out your situation. See what we can do to resolve the mess you're in."

She took a quivering breath at the reminder. "I don't have any debt. I don't have any credit cards. I have four hundred and sixty-eight dollars in my checking account, and about forty-five in my purse. That's the sum of my financial spreadsheet."

"Good. If you're telling me the truth--"

She broke in, "Why would I lie to you?"

The look he turned on her sent her heartbeat into a quivering mess. His eyes were hot and his voice when he spoke was edged with an emotion she couldn't identify but nevertheless, made the air around them fraught with tension. "Try not to interrupt me, Natalie. It tends to make me want to shut you up--and I'm not real sure you'd care for my method." His voice was guttural and the muscles of his neck, corded and laced with steel, were a quietly menacing threat. His expression was hard, piercing, and his eyes ran over her from top to bottom, and settled on her mouth.

Her heart raced and her palms became clammy.

The thought of the repercussions of defying him rendered her helpless in a wholly feminine way. "Yes, sir," she agreed softly, without a trace of sarcasm. He'd subdued her completely not so much with his tone but with his hot eyes as they ran over her, and her gaze dropped from his. Yeah, she so didn't want to be the recipient of his anger, or whatever form of punishment he was intimating, sexual or otherwise--no matter the blood pulsing between her thighs.

His eyes glittered, but he continued in the same vein as before. "If you're telling me the truth, and you don't have debt collectors on your butt, in fact have no debt at all, and you haven't signed a lease for an apartment--" He looked at her with a question in his eyes and she softly shook her head. ". . . then there's no reason we can't work this out between us."

He seemed to be waiting on her response, so she nodded her head in agreement, even though she was wondering what the hell she was getting into. "Okay." If not for that phone call to his assistant, and the woman's unwavering belief that this man would never hurt her, Natalie would be running for the nearest exit.

He continued, "Here's the way I see it playing out. You live here. You take care of my home. You won't get paid a salary, you'll be working off the debt you owe me." As he spoke, he laid out another sheet of paper between them and as she glanced down at it, she could see it was a contract of some kind. His signature was already scrawled across the bottom in a slashing line, next to a blank space where she was obviously supposed to sign, as well.

"Kind of like an indentured servant," she mumbled.

He ignored her comment. "I'll cover your basic expenses. Your food, clothing, cell phone."

She opened her mouth to disagree but the expression he wore effectively silenced her.

"I'll make any additional rules as we go. You'll follow them, no questions asked. There will be times when I might need something other than a housekeeper, and you'll conform to what I expect."

Her eyes widened and her heartbeat became erratic and almost stopped completely. He wasn't referring to anything sexual, was he? As much as it pained her, she felt the urgent need to clarify. "What--what kind of things?"

"I couldn't possibly know that as nothing's come up yet."

"Not--you're not talking about anything--" She cleared her throat. "Sexual?"

His eyes became hooded, and the look he pierced her with was unfathomable. "You wouldn't like that, would you?"

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Why the hell hadn
'
t he just answered the question with a quick
'
no
'
?
Her face blushed a fiery red. She knew it did; she could feel it. "If I owe you money, and we have sex--" she bit her lip and shook her head, "No, I wouldn't like it," she whispered.

He waited a prolonged moment before answering, his eyes searching hers as if debating something and coming to a decision. "Calm down. I'm not talking about sex. I have someone who takes care of that aspect of my life. I don't anticipate needing anything else from you besides housework. But if it comes up, I'm referring to other types of domestic chores. Shopping, organizing, that type of stuff. You think you're up to it?"

She swallowed and licked her dry lips. "Yes, that's fine."

His eyes fell to her lips and stayed there a heartbeat too long before he spoke again. "Okay. That part is settled then. I appreciate you cooking supper for me tonight, but it won't be needed on a daily basis. I'm usually out at night. I'll let you know beforehand if I'll be in. I have a service that delivers groceries as needed, and we'll keep using that, although you can begin placing the orders."

"How long--how long will you need me?"

"How long will your sentence last?" he qualified.

"Yes."

"A year."

"A year?"

"It would take you four or five years at the least if you began paying me in installments. This way you get it taken care of quickly, and I don't have to worry about you skipping town on me." The look he gave her was like an arrow hitting its mark. "And Natalie, don't for one second think about skipping out on me. Trust me, I'll find you, and you won't care for the outcome. You do as you're told, work hard, and you'll find I'm extremely easygoing."

Natalie sat back under the cold precision of his dark eyes. "When can my cousin get his car back?" she asked him softly.

"Write the address down for me and I'll have it towed to his house."

She shifted restlessly and then said, "I was hoping to have it repaired. I need to drive--"

"You're not driving without insurance, and you can't afford the cost right now. If you need to go somewhere, I'll arrange a driver to take you wherever you need." There was absolutely nothing in his tone that implied he might bend on the subject.

"Where's it at?" she asked.

"The car? It's being stored at a lot."

"How much is that costing me?" As she asked the question, he reached across to her and handed her a pen, motioning for her signature. She accepted it from him, took a shuddering breath, and scribbled her name on the contract before she changed her mind.

He leaned back in his seat and the expression that passed over his face was one of satisfaction that he didn't seem to try to hide. "I'm covering it. You don't need to worry about it."

He folded the contract in two and then once again before holding it tightly in his hand. Natalie tried to keep her mind on her immediate needs and not on the inexplicable expression on his face and the unrelenting grip he had on the document she had signed. "Do you have access to it?"

His eyes penetrated hers. "What do you need?"

"My clothes," she said simply.

"You'll have them in the morning."

****

Two weeks later, Natalie had a routine established. Her nerves still fluttered whenever Marco was around, but he wasn't around often. He rarely ate in, and he came home from work late at night, and looked at her only briefly with hooded eyes before he locked himself in his study. She had only been asked to cook for him twice, and both times, she had retreated to her bedroom after putting his meal on the table. He was unstintingly polite to her at all times and she attempted her best to remain the same.

The bedroom that he had placed her in on that very first night became hers. She silently wished for the room farthest away from his, but was too afraid to rock the proverbial boat by asking him if she could make the move and she wasn't brave enough to do it without asking. Except for its location near him, the bedroom she was using was extremely comfortable. It came equipped with a flat screen television, a writing desk, a small sitting area, as well as an en-suite bathroom.

The day her clothes had shown up, so had a sleek, thin, state of the art laptop. After she'd finished in the kitchen, she found it on her writing desk, out of the box and ready to go. She'd had the opportunity to ask him about it that very same evening. "I think there's been a mistake. There's a laptop in my room."

"Do you have a computer already?" He had to know she didn't.

"No."

"Then it's for your use. There's wifi in the building."

"Thank you. And thank you for the cell phone as well."

He nodded his head once and then looked back to his own computer screen, dismissing her altogether.

And that had been that. He hadn't bothered to ask if she had a dedicated phone number--so she sent out a mass text message to her contacts informing them of the new number.

Natalie had also spoken to her mother and assured her of her welfare. She hadn't told her the complete truth, only that she'd gotten a temporary job as a cleaner. She'd learned from the conversation that her mom still had the live-in boyfriend. Someday, she reminded herself, her mother would see that he was no good. Until that day came, Natalie consoled herself with the thought that he was very likely only a cheater and a loser; he didn't seem to be a drug user or an abuser of alcohol. He'd never shown any violent tendencies. Hopefully, her mom would come to her senses and Natalie could move back to the small town she loved and the job she knew she'd be welcomed back to at the title company, where she'd worked for the last four years.