Addicted To His Disfigured Secret Lover

Evelyn slammed the heavy medical trust fund bill against Aracely's chest, the sharp edge of the thick folder biting into her skin. The thick stack of papers hit her collarbone hard, scattering across the hardwood floor of the second-floor hallway. Aracely's vision blurred for a second. She crouched down. Her fingers shook as she picked up the papers. She saw the massive numbers printed at the bottom, and her stomach dropped. Evelyn pulled out her phone. She shoved the screen into Aracely's face. It was a live video from the ICU. Grandmother lay there, a plastic oxygen mask strapped to her pale face. The heart monitor beeped weakly in the background. "Do exactly what I say," Evelyn sneered. "Or I call the hospital right now and tell them to pull the plug." Aracely lunged for the phone. Heavy hands clamped down on her shoulders. Evelyn's bodyguard forced her to her knees, pinning her in place. Aracely closed her eyes. She sucked in a sharp breath. The air burned her lungs. For her grandmother's life, she ground her teeth together and nodded. Evelyn smiled. She threw a piece of black silk at Aracely's face. "Put it on." Evelyn sneered, waving her hand dismissively. She ordered the bodyguard to wait outside and firmly shut the heavy wooden door behind him. "I wouldn't let a dog see this pitiful sight," Evelyn mocked. Under Evelyn's cold, triumphant stare, Aracely stood frozen for a split second. A deep sense of humiliation burned in her chest, but the steady beep of her grandmother's heart monitor echoed in her mind, drowning out her pride. With trembling fingers, Aracely slowly stripped off her clothes. She pulled the black silk nightgown over her head. The fabric was freezing against her skin. She gripped the edges of the hem, her knuckles turning white. Evelyn grabbed Aracely's wrist. Her nails dug into Aracely's skin. She dragged her down the hallway toward the heavy oak double doors. "Not a single sound." Evelyn whispered harshly. She shoved Aracely into the pitch-black master bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her. The lock turned. The hallway light was gone. The room was completely dark. Aracely pressed her back against the wooden door. Her chest heaved. A strong scent of cedar and tobacco hit her nose. Fabric rustled across the room. Someone sat up on the King-size bed. Brennen Levine rubbed his temples. His head throbbed with a blinding pain. He hadn't slept in days. The noise at the door made the veins in his neck pulse. "Get out." Brennen ordered. His voice was rough, dripping with irritation. He thought it was his new, vain wife. Aracely stopped breathing. She turned and grabbed the brass door handle. She twisted it frantically. It was locked from the outside. The rattling sound echoed in the silent room. Brennen lost his patience. He threw the covers off. His bare feet hit the floor. He walked straight toward the door in the dark. Aracely felt a massive wave of heat approaching her. She tried to step back, but her back was already flat against the wood. A large, iron-like hand clamped around her wrist. Brennen yanked her forward with the force of a tidal wave. Her slender body crashed into his hard, unyielding chest, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. His hot hand gripped her wrist so tightly she felt the bone might snap. He opened his mouth to yell, his eyes blazing with dark fury in the pitch blackness, but then-he stopped. A sudden, sweet scent drifted up from her skin and filled his lungs. It was natural gardenia. It was the exact, faint scent she had inherited from her mother's bloodline, a unique mark of the women in her family. The scent hit his brain like a heavy sedative. The agonizing pain behind his eyes, a torment he had endured for days, vanished instantly. He felt a jolt of shock ripple through his tense muscles. How could a scent do this? His rational mind scrambled for an answer, but his body was already surrendering to the overwhelming relief. Brennen froze. His muscles locked. He lowered his head and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He took a deep, desperate breath. His hot breath scorched her skin. Aracely flinched. She brought her hands up and pushed against his solid chest. Her resistance triggered something dark inside him. Brennen grabbed her narrow waist. He slammed her back against the door. He used his massive frame to pin her down. He lowered his head and captured her trembling lips without warning. Aracely's eyes widened in the dark. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She thought of the hospital machines keeping her grandmother alive. She went limp and stopped fighting. The darkness hid her face. Brennen was completely addicted to her scent. He lost all control. He swept her off her feet and threw her onto the mattress. Hours later, the violent storm ended. Brennen fell into a deep, heavy sleep. His breathing was steady. At three in the morning, Aracely's whole body ached. She carefully slid out from under his heavy arm. She found her torn silk nightgown on the floor. She slipped it on. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet. She unlocked the door and slipped out into the hallway. The morning sun pierced through the curtains. Brennen snapped his eyes open. The bed beside him was empty. Only that maddening scent remained on the sheets. He slammed his hand on the intercom. "Arthur," Brennen growled. "Get in here and find her."