Three Rich Men: House of Midnight Fantasies / Forced to the Altar / The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress. Michelle Celmer
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a certain power—over her.
She returned to the room, closing the doors behind her. Closing him out. But she couldn’t drive him from her thoughts, nor could she rid herself of the persistent heat that had little to do with the elements.
She climbed into bed and tried to clear her mind. Tried to sleep. Tried to think about anything but him. But as she drifted off, Adrien Morrell was the last thing she thought about. The last thing she saw.
The minute Selene stepped from the bathroom into the hallway the following morning, she knew he had been nearby. She’d immediately caught the scent of his cologne, but more importantly, she sensed his presence. An intangible feeling that totally consumed her. She wondered if he’d been standing at the door or if he’d simply just passed through the corridor. Whatever the case might be, he wasn’t anywhere in sight now. That should please her, but in a way, she was disappointed—only because she wanted to get a look at him in the daylight. A good, long look.
Glancing to her right, she intended to check to see if his bedroom door was open. Instead, she made contact with the devilish statue, its vicious features causing her to physically jump. Demon Giles would definitely have to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. If she thought she could actually haul him up and carry him out, she would deposit him in the nearby swamp.
Selene returned to her bedroom, slipped out of her robe and into a pair of white linen slacks and a coral knit sleeveless top. At least her summer apparel provided a respite from the heat that had already begun to creep into the house.
Selene headed down the spiral staircase at a fast clip, relieved to be out of the dark corridor and into the light, surrounded by cherubs. As she made her way across the rotunda toward the kitchen, she paused at a painting hanging on the wall of a young woman with bright green eyes and raven-black hair swept up from her slender, pale neck, her hands folded primly in her lap. Considering the lady’s clothing—a soft white, long lace dress with a full skirt—Selene would guess that she’d probably resided at the plantation many years before. But when she studied the inscription on the brass plate anchored to the bottom of the frame, a series of chills raced up her spine as well as a sense of foreboding.
Grace—She sleeps with the angels.
Maybe this was a key to one of the tragedies Ella had spoken about the previous day. Maybe this beautiful young woman had died before her youth was spent, and perhaps even in this house. As disconcerting as that thought was, Selene wanted to know more about the plantation’s past, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity. Who better to ask than the owner’s right-hand woman?
As she entered the kitchen, Selene found Ella at the ancient white stove scrambling eggs and humming a cheerful song.
“Good morning,” Selene said as she pulled back a chair and took a seat at the weathered pine table.
Ella regarded her over one shoulder while she continued to cook. “Good morning to you, too. Did you sleep well?”
“Fairly well. It’s going to take me a while to get used to the surroundings.” To get used to the idea that Adrien Morrell resided right next door. She’d intermittently heard the sounds of his footsteps throughout the night, as if he’d been restless. But then so had she. She still was.
Ella turned from the stove, balancing a full plate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She crossed the small space and slid the fare in front of Selene. “Enjoy.”
Selene resisted wrinkling her nose. She didn’t care for eggs or bacon. Toast she could do, and coffee. Definitely coffee. “It looks good, but I’m never very hungry in the morning. I also want to get an early start today.”
Ella returned to the table with her own cup of coffee and took the chair across from Selene. “If you stay around for a while, you might be able to meet Mr. Morrell when he comes down for breakfast.”
“I’ve already met him.” Selene waited for Ella’s apparent surprise to subside before she added, “Last night, on the veranda outside our rooms.”
Ella slid a fingertip around the rim of her own cup. “How did that go?”
It had gone places Selene had never expected. “Not too badly. He wanted to know about my work experience, and I got the impression he doesn’t want to be bothered with the details of the restoration.”
Ella sighed. “He wants to be left alone.”
Selene had sensed that about him last night, even in light of his fantasies about her. “What exactly does he do for a living?”
“He’s an entrepreneur. He turned his inheritance into a small fortune through various ventures, mainly buying faltering businesses, restoring them and selling them for a large profit. He’s very good at what he does, or he was until …” Ella’s gaze drifted away with her words.
“Until what?” Selene asked.
“Until he decided to take a break from it all.”
Again, Selene wanted to know more about Adrien, to ask more questions. But she sensed Ella wasn’t up to answering, which called for a subject change. “If you can point me to a phone, I’ll contact a few prospective contractors and set up appointments.”
Ella took a quick sip of her coffee. “You’ll have to find someone from Baton Rouge since you won’t find anyone locally, at least not anyone who’s willing to come out here. The townspeople are a superstitious lot. They believe the place is cursed.”
Ella had unknowingly provided Selene with a good opening. “That portrait near the staircase. Is that woman somehow involved in the tragedies?”
“I’m not really sure,” Ella said. “I assume she probably is, but I don’t know any details about her.”
Selene had always embraced the past, and she truly believed the woman named Grace had an interesting one at that.
She took another quick drink of coffee, pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m going to go into town and pay a personal visit to a few of the business owners. Maybe someone can suggest a local contractor who isn’t superstitious.”
“Good luck.” Ella nodded toward Selene’s untouched food. “You should eat something first, put on a few pounds so you don’t make me look quite so portly.”
“You’re fine just the way you are. And I’m in a hurry to get this restoration underway.” In a hurry to get away because she sensed Adrien’s imminent arrival as surely as if she’d heard his approaching footsteps, which she hadn’t. Any minute now, he could walk into the kitchen and throw her off balance. Better to head into town before that happened. Before she had to look at him again, this time in the daylight where all her fascination and preoccupation with her boss would be bared like a flashing billboard. Because she was fascinated by him, completely intrigued. He had his share of secrets, that much she knew, and most she would probably never know.
Yet she also knew those secrets had brought on his pain, and she had always been a sucker for lost souls. She’d manned a couple of hotlines on a volunteer basis, had championed several causes. She’d also learned that some lost people didn’t care to be found. She suspected that Adrien Morrell had no desire to be saved from his solitude. For that reason alone, she vowed to pay no heed to him, as long as he stayed out of her head.
Alone in his office, Adrien stood at the window and watched Selene Winston drive away. Curiosity sent him immediately to her room, to see if she had left for good. In his experience, everyone eventually left. Not so in this case, at least not yet.
The white gown she’d been wearing on the veranda last night was draped over the bed’s footboard. The sheer fabric had revealed only a few details, but enough details to set him on edge and keep him there. Striding across the room, he passed his palm over the gown that was as soft as her skin. He knew that much, even though he hadn’t touched her. Yet. But he would.
Last night, he’d warred with what was wise and what he wanted. Many considered him predatory, territorial