That’s true enough. I watched them from the window of my study while they explored outside the house and painted rocks. They’re lining the old antique sidebars and tables downstairs, those rocks. It would probably make Emily Rochester turn over in her grave to see them on her expensive furniture.

I doubt Paige had that kind of freedom before.

There isn’t much I can give her. Love. Affection.

Those things are foreign to me.

Money is all I have to offer, and the nanny is what I’ve purchased.

Don’t scare her away, Mateo texts back.

That’s the problem with having old friends. He knows what I’m capable of. I don’t need to play nice, I type. That’s what the money’s for.

He sends me back a middle finger, but he knows I’m right. That’s the way the world works. Rich bastards like me get to order a pretty woman to spread her thighs. If she had a family, if she had a support system, maybe she would have said no.

The ache in my chest is protectiveness. I hate it.

I made her orgasm, but that doesn’t make it right.

Don’t touch her again, Rochester.

That’s what I tell myself, but even as I drift off to sleep I see the count in my head. One, two, three things I can do to her. What if she asks for a fourth thing? A fifth? She invades my dreams the same way she does every night since she arrived, except now I know how she feels when she comes, her clit slippery, her body shuddering against mine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jane Mendoza

Paige is her usual chatty self during breakfast.

She doesn’t seem affected by the nightmare, which is a relief to me. I’m extremely distracted by what happened after. Why did I let him touch me? Why did I want him to touch me?

After stuffing ourselves with waffles and syrup and butter, we put on our hoodies and socks and shoes and head outside. There’s other warm clothing for her—mittens and scarves and hats, but I’m determined to do only what is possible and not stress over what’s not.

We have something of a routine by now.

I pick up her set of paints and brushes. She grabs a square-bottomed basket we found in a large shed out back. By the time we return, it will be filled with painted rocks, fallen branches, interesting leaves and the occasional snail shell.

This time when we reach a selection of smooth, wide rocks, I have a plan.