Chapter 113: Rules of the House

Chapter 113: Rules of the House
Valerie didn't mean to fall asleep.
One minute she was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the window latch, and the next she was waking up to a room that had gone dark except for the glow of the compound lights coming in through the glass, and the clock on the side table said 7:42, which meant she'd been out for nearly five hours.
She lay there for a moment and stared at the ceiling, and felt the unpleasant weight of jet lag sitting on her chest. Her body had no idea what time it thought it was. Her mouth was dry, her eyes felt gritty, and her legs were heavy.
Then she got up, washed her face in the bathroom, changed into clothes from the wardrobe — she wasn't happy about it, but she also wasn't going to be petty about clean clothes — and then she opened the bedroom door.
The man in the suit was standing against the wall directly across from it. He looked at her without surprise.
"How long have you been out here?" she said.
"Mr. Cardini asks that you join him for dinner,” the man said instead. “I'll take you."
She looked at him. He wasn't threatening her. He also wasn't asking.
"Fine," she said.
He walked her down the hall and down the stairs and through a corridor she hadn't been through yet, and then he pushed open a door at the end of the corridor and gestured her inside.
The dining room was large. Long table, good chairs, a sideboard along one wall.
Two women in uniform came through a separate door almost immediately and began setting dishes on the table in an organized sequence, bringing things out one at a time and arranging them without fuss.
By the time they were done, the table held more than two people could reasonably work through — several dishes, covered serving bowls, bread, and a pitcher of water already poured.
"Enjoy your meal," one of the women said, and they left.
Valerie sat down. She'd eaten almost nothing on the flight and nothing since landing. So she picked up the fork and began eating.
The door opened about a minute later, and Max came in.
She noticed immediately that he wasn't in the suit. He had on jeans — dark, well-fitted — and a white t-shirt, and his feet were bare on the hardwood floor. It stopped her for half a second.
"You're barefoot," she said.
"I'm at home," he said. He pulled a chair out across from her and sat down, and reached for the serving spoon in the nearest dish.
"You didn't seem like a barefoot kind of person," she said.
"I'm not, outside." He put food on his plate. "Inside, I don't see the point."
She watched him for a moment. He was more relaxed now. This was his house. She could feel the difference it made for him, and she understood it even though understanding it irritated her.
She went back to eating.
They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.
Then he said, "I want to go through some things with you."
"About what?"
"About how this works." He set his fork down briefly. "You have the run of the house. The main rooms, the grounds during the day, and the gym if you want it. There are parts of the compound that are off-limits, and you'll know them when you reach them because there'll be someone standing in front of them. Don't push it."
"And if I do?"
"They'll walk you back, and I'll find out about it."
"That's it?"
"That's it," he said. "You won't be hurt here. You won't be locked in your room. You're not going to be mistreated."
She put her fork down. "You're describing this like it's reasonable."
"I'm describing it like it is."
"You're keeping me here against my will. How many times do I have to remind you that?"
"I'm keeping you safe," he said.
"Safe." She looked at him. "Max. You run a cartel. I am not safe. I am in the middle of whatever this is, with no say in any of it, and you want me to feel better because you're not locking the door?"
"You're safer here than you are anywhere Damon can reach you," he said evenly.
"I'm sitting in the house of the head of a criminal organization."
"Yes," he said. "And you're married to a man who runs a mafia, so let's talk about safe choices."
Her jaw tightened. "That is not the same thing."
"Isn't it? You've known him, yet you married him, and you stayed."
Valerie glared at him, then shoved her chair back and stood up fast. Without another word, she headed straight for the door.
Max didn’t move at first. He just watched her, eyes narrowed.
She reached the door, yanked it open, and slipped out into the narrow corridor. She’d only taken two steps when she heard the scrape of his chair and his heavy footsteps behind her.
Her heart jumped. She moved more quickly, almost running now toward the end of the corridor. She made it halfway before his hand locked around her upper arm and spun her around.
Valerie immediately shoved hard against his chest with both hands. “Don’t touch me!”
Max barely budged. He let her get one solid push in, then caught her other wrist and used his height and weight to turn her around. In one smooth motion, he bent down and hauled her up over his shoulder.
“Max! Put me down, you lying asshole!” she snapped, kicking her legs and pounding her fists against his broad back.
He didn’t answer. One strong arm clamped across the back of her thighs, holding her in place as he started walking back toward the dining area. Every time she twisted or tried to slide off, his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her thigh just enough to make her breath hitch.
“Goddamn it, Max — let go!” She squirmed harder, her body rubbing against his shoulder and chest as she fought. The more she struggled, the more she could feel the solid muscle under his shirt.
“Stop fighting me,” he finally said.
“I’ll stop when you put me the fuck down!”
But he carried her through the dining room door and down the corridor without breaking stride. Valerie kept wriggling, her petite frame twisting against his much larger one. At one point, she managed to slip down a little, her breasts dragging across his back, which made her pause for half a second — long enough for him to adjust his grip and slide his hand higher up her thigh, dangerously close to her ass.
Her breath caught. “Max… I swear to God—”
“As your punishment, Valerie, you’re not leaving this room again tonight.”