Chapter 15 A Mess
Elsie
I stumbled out of the garage. My body was still cold, but my head was spinning hot. The kiss. Caleb’s kiss. It was soft, intense, and felt better than anything I wanted to admit.
I made my way straight to the kitchen. It was a haven—bright, noisy, and warm, a perfect contrast to the cold, wet world outside.
I dropped the heavy, water-logged grocery bags onto the stainless-steel counter. The staff was busy with dinner prep.
Mrs. Chavez, the elderly cleaner, turned and gasped when she saw me.
She was the one in charge of Malcom Lancaster’s sleeping chambers and other areas of the house that were out of bounds for other staff members. She was his only trusted and loyal staff member. I know she knew too much of the Lancasters and she holds a secret that no one else knows.
"Child, what in the world happened to you?" she cried, rushing over. "You look like a drowned rat! Your dress is soaked through!"
I shivered violently, hugging myself. "The rain, ma'am. Mr. Jacob dropped me off, but I had to walk part of the way."
"Oh, you poor dear," she fussed, immediately peeling the bags away from me. "Don't you dare touch these things. They'll wait. Look at you shaking! You'll catch pneumonia."
She gave me a gentle push toward the door that led to the staff staircase. "Go on! Run upstairs right now and get out of those clothes. A hot shower, now! Leave the unpacking to me."
"Thank you, ma'am. I really appreciate it."
I hurried out of the kitchen, desperate to get to the attic, peel off the wet, cold dress, and try to forget the intoxicating taste of Caleb's lips or the fact that he almost consumed me.
I took the back staircase, moving quickly toward the servants' landing. The hallway was quiet and dim up here, away from the main family rooms.
I was three steps from the door to the attic when a shadow moved. I stopped dead.
Jacob appeared from the hallway corner, blocking the way up. He wasn't smiling. He was completely enraged, his face tight and cold.
"Where are you running off to, little maid?" he asked, his voice low, dangerously soft.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I knew this was about Caleb.
"I need to change, sir," I whispered, holding my arms tight over my soaked chest. "I'm freezing."
"Oh, you're freezing," he repeated, taking a slow step toward me. "But you weren't too cold to sit in my brother's car, were you? And you weren't too cold to let him touch you."
He took another step, trapping me against the wall near the staircase. I could feel the rough wood of the railing against my back.
"Tell me what happened, Elsie," he demanded, his eyes burning with possessive fury. "I saw the wet seat in Caleb's car. Did he think his rescue earned him a little prize? Did you like how he was looking at you? Like you were some tiny, fragile thing he could save?"
His proximity was suffocating. He was inches away, and the anger radiating off him was intense, turning the small space hot.
"He just gave me a ride home, sir," I tried to say, my voice shaking. "I was soaked."
If I remember correctly, he was supposed to be out with his Zaza. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him and click my tongue. He was just with another woman, why does he care if another man touched me?
"Don't lie to me," he growled, grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him. "He never breaks protocol. He never touches staff. And he damn sure never risks Father's fury for a grocery run. You are mine, and you don't get to choose who protects you."
His anger was thrillingly dangerous. He didn't just see a maid; he saw a rival's prize.
He didn't give me time to answer. His head dipped, and his mouth crushed mine. It was a hard, angry kiss, punishing but undeniably passionate.
He bit my lip, then pressed hard, demanding a response. This was rough, aggressive, a statement of ownership.
He broke the kiss only to whisper, his voice ragged with jealousy, "Did Caleb taste better?”
Before I could process the words, he took my mouth again, deepening the kiss into something consuming and brutal. He kissed me like he was trying to burn Caleb's lingering taste from my memory. The fear was sharp, but the answering heat in my body was a shameful betrayal. I fought him for a second, then found myself struggling to match his wild, possessive energy.
When he finally pulled back, he leaned his forehead against mine, his breathing labored. I was leaning heavily against the wall, dizzy and shivering, not just from the cold.