Villain, page 9
I tiptoe towards the stairs with my heart in my mouth.
There is no one there.
I raise my hand and place it on the banister. At the same time, I hear a quiet thud downstairs.
Fuck.
My throat seizes shut.
I’m not alone.
Someone is in the house.
It could be Imani or Freya, but why would they cut their holiday short and come home at 3:00 a.m.?
There’s a voice, faint and gruff, but I hear it clear as day.
“Check the living room.”
Casper was right; there is more than one of them.
Fear claws at my throat. I back up, my hands shaking and stomach dragging along the floor as if they’ve disembowelled me.
My phone is charging in my room.
Sliding through the opening to the door, I fumble around for my phone, my hands shaking so badly, I almost drop it twice. I manage to dial 999 while my heart tries to punch a hole through my ribcage.
Keep. Calm.
I lay down, somewhat in a daze, and shuffle under my bed as the emergency handler answers, asking which service I need.
Once I’ve whispered a message to the operator, I hang up despite being told to stay on the line. I can’t do that. I need to call Casper.
I’m not thinking properly. Terror replaces the blood in my veins, making every movement sloppy and every decision questionable. It takes me two attempts to get my thumb to hit the call button to him.
Seconds later, a sleepy groan mutters, “Ainsley, what the fu–”
“Someone’s in my house,” I whisper, keeping my eyes glued to the door. I’m surprised they haven’t heard my heartbeat thumping against the floor by now.
“What? What?”
He sounds a lot more awake now.
“I called the police. I’m under my bed.”
There’s a banging on the other end of the phone. So much so that I can’t hear if he’s talking to me, and I can’t raise my voice to ask.
“Do not move, and do not make a sound,” he says eventually. He’s on high alert, barking orders in a way I wouldn’t dare disobey them.
But I wasn’t exactly planning to jump around shouting, “Here I am!” now, was I?
Hold on…
Shit, he’s coming over.
Obviously.
My hands tremble as I hold the phone to my ear. I press my fist against my mouth in an effort to calm myself the hell down.
“Casper,” I whisper into the phone. He’s still on the line but all I hear is the thudding of his footsteps on the stairs. Then his front door slams shut, and that rattles my house, too.
My stomach turns to lead. “Casper, be careful.”
What if the intruder—or intruders—are armed and they hurt him? I can’t let him face them alone while I hide under my bed.
There’s more noise at the back of the house. Something solid falls over, so they’ve probably already run off when they’ve heard Casper coming over.
Please be gone. Don’t hurt him.
They must have taken off. You wouldn’t stick around when you heard someone coming for you.
“Ainsley! Ainsley!” My name is a frantic call that makes me sob.
Thank God he’s here.
I roll out from under the bed and sprint without a second thought, bumping into the wall as I turn the corner. Casper meets me at the top of the stairs, and I fling myself at him, my legs giving way.
He catches me before I hit the floor. My head lands against his hard chest, and he holds me as tightly as I need him to.
I feel my body tremble against his, but it somehow knows that I’m safe now. He’s strong, and I knew he would come.
The trembling begins to subside when he whispers against my ear, “It’s okay now. You’re okay. They’ve gone. It’s just you and me, Ainsley. I’ve got you.”
I bury my head in his chest and breathe him in like a proper little stalker, my tears soaking his naked skin. He says nothing about the way I inhale him like a junkie.
“Casper,” I say, fear still thick in my throat.
“You’re safe, sweetheart.”
Safe isn’t something I usually associate with Casper Hart. There’s only been one other time. He doesn’t always make me feel protected, except for right now when I’m shocked to realise that I didn’t call him because of his proximity.
After calling the cops, I didn’t think at all. I just wanted him.
My call to Casper was instinctual. Fuck. I bet that was because he stepped in to help Freya and me when we heard a noise the last time.
I cling to him like a spider monkey and suck in a ragged gulp of air. Oxygen mixed with him is an intoxicating combination that makes me lightheaded, but that might just be the shock. He tucks my head under his chin while I continue to cry into his bare chest.
“Have they definitely gone?” I ask.
“I heard the back door slam just before I got here.”
“I heard that, too. Did you see them out the back?”
“I didn’t see anything, Ainsley. I came straight for you.”
In the distance, I hear a siren, but it’s his words that have the most soothing effect.
I came straight for you.
“Come on, let’s go downstairs. Take my hand, I won’t let go.”
I let my legs take my weight and peel myself off Casper rather sheepishly. He drops his hand from my face slowly, his fingertips softly grazing my skin, wiping a tear as he goes.
There are more of my tears on his skin, but he doesn’t wipe those, if he even realises they’re there at all. I watch one slide between his pec.
He takes my hand. “Ainsley, are you okay?”
“I am now. It was just… I was… scared.”
My stomach’s tied in knots, and I feel like I might lose my toast and chocolate dinner. Other than that, I feel great.
Scared is underselling it, but I don’t want to be a drama queen. He’s already had me throw myself at him and cry, my tears now slowly drying on his chest.
“It must have been terrifying,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “For a second there, I thought I might have to avenge your death.”
“Pull a John Wick. That’s kind of sexy.”
Neither of us are usually into any kind of banter, but trying at least makes me feel a bit more normal.
“Come on.” He pulls my hand and leads me downstairs.
I’ve never held his hand properly before. It’s warm with a strong possessive grip I don’t want to let go of. I bet he’s one of those men who squeeze as hard as they can during a handshake to assert their dominance.
There is nothing limp about this man.
Casper sits me, almost literally, on the sofa. “Do you need anything?” he asks as the siren grows closer.
“No, I’m fine.”
He arches a dark brow but doesn’t challenge me. We both know I’m not fine, but there’s no point dwelling on it.
“I-I don’t want to be alone when the police leave.”
His eyes burn into mine. “You won’t be alone ever again.”
There’s a loud knock on the door, and Casper shouts for them to come in. I thought he might actually go to answer the door, but it’s unlocked, and he’s still holding my hand, gripping me like he’s scared I’ll disappear if he were to let go.
Two officers let themselves in and walk over to us. Casper briefly explains what happened while I try to ground myself by almost breaking every bone in Casper’s hand. He’s not complaining, though.
It’s all a blur—a horrible nightmare I can’t seem to wake from. Not enough time has passed for me to wrap my head around it, though I’m wide awake and unsure I’ll ever be able to drift off again.
The male officer goes to make hot drinks while the female calls for a forensic team and takes my statement. They were only here last week, searching my garden.
Casper looks furious, gunmetal eyes ready to kill, giving them a clear display of how pissed off he is that I was in danger. What could they have done?
Prompted by Casper squeezing my hand and bringing me back to the present, I slowly give the officer my account of what happened, then Casper does the same, offering more details than he did when they first arrived.
There isn’t much to tell them. I didn’t see anything. All I can describe are the sounds and that one voice.
It takes only twenty minutes for the forensic guys to arrive. They get straight to work on the kitchen where the intruders entered.
Casper and I haven’t moved. I sit beside him, holding a now-cold coffee. His arm remains pressed firmly against mine, a silent promise that he’ll keep me safe.
The world seems to be moving far too quickly as I watch people walk past to collect the evidence they need and take photos of the damage. It’s a whirlwind of activity, and I just need everything to stop so I can catch up.
A second mug of coffee is swapped with the first and placed in my hands.
“Thanks,” I mutter to the officer right before she retreats.
“Hey,” Casper says, taking the mug from me and putting it down on the coffee table. “You’re too quiet. Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve never been a good liar. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head. I rarely have a clue.”
“It’s going to sound dramatic.”
He smiles weakly, shaking his head. “It usually does.”
Part of the old Casper I know so well is still in there, I see.
I bite my lip, debating whether or not I want to be that open and raw with him. He wouldn’t make fun of me. Not tonight.
“For fuck’s sake, Ainsley, will you spit it out?”
He had the good sense to speak quietly so he doesn’t sound like a massive wanker in front of the police officers. It does make me smile, though, so I don’t think badly of him. In fact, it’s the most normal he’s been with me since the break-in, and I hold onto it with every ounce of strength I have.
“All right, bossy.” I take a breath and look down at our entwined fingers. My hand is so much smaller than his. “I was petrified, okay. I… thought they might find me and...”
“What?”
“You know.”
“Murder? Rape?”
No sugar-coating it. I’d think he was insensitive, but he looks like he wants to hunt the intruders down and skin them alive.
“All of the above,” I reply, meeting his concerned, dark eyes. “I know that’s stupid since these guys are just after things to steal, but I wasn’t thinking rationally when they broke in. It happened so fast, and I’d just woken up.”
He nods once, his jaw hard. Scratch that, he doesn’t look like he wants to hurt them. He looks like he wants to burn the entire world down.
“You’re not the only one who thought that. I wasn’t lying what I said about avenging your death. It took far too long for me to get over here. I was frantic thinking that he might be… hurting you.” Those last two words rip from his throat like blades on skin.
“Sometimes it’s impossible to tell if you pretend to hate me most of the time, or in situations like this you’re just pretending to like me,” I confess.
His head rears back as if my words have physically slapped him.
It came out of the blue, I’ll give him that. I swallow, ducking my chin because where the hell did that come from? He was looking at me with new eyes, speaking with kind words, holding my hand like he wanted to be close, and it messed with my head.
“Ainsley…”
Before he can say any more, we’re interrupted by one of the officers, which is a good thing for me, because I don’t want to deal with the consequences of what I just said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When the police finally leave, the sun is rising, and I’m dead tired. My eyes sting, and my body is heavy. I feel like I’ve been awake for days and could pass out at any moment.
Emotionally, I’m done.
Casper still hasn’t left my side, but things are a touch on the awkward side since I mentioned him perhaps hating me. It would take a few words to clear the air but I’m a chicken, and he hasn’t said a word about it. I don’t think he will, so I’ll ignore it, too.
“You should go to bed,” Casper says the moment I yawn into the back of my hand.
He turns to me, giving me his full attention.
I shake my head. “No, I’m good. I’ll get dressed, head out to the café, then spend the day at the library.”
“You can’t go out all day. You’re exhausted and probably still in shock. Honestly, you look like you’re going to collapse.”
“I’ll be all right once I’m out. I just need a day between now and when I finally sleep, you know? More needs to happen before I close my eyes.”
I go to stand up, but before I can get anywhere, his hand wraps around my wrist and he pins me to the sofa. His eyes drift from the burning of our joined hands to my face. “You can sleep at mine.”
My heart skips a full beat, maybe two. Maybe I’m already dead. “What?”
“You don’t need breakfast and books. You need to get some sleep.”
“Er, thanks but—”
“For once, can you do what I ask without a fight?” He sighs. “I don’t mind the arguing, but I’m exhausted, too. Plus, you won’t have nightmares.”
I want to remind him that this isn’t the first time I’ve done as he asked; I also drank Coke to sober up at his request, but that doesn’t seem helpful right now. Besides, I’m still grateful for that. Imani’s hangover was killer, but I was relatively unharmed. The headache was manageable.
Casper watches me with that intensity that makes me want to vanish, waiting for my reply, which we both know is pointless since he doesn’t really care what I have to say, anyway. He’s made his mind up.
Can I really go to his house and sleep on his sofa? After what just happened, I don’t think he would draw on me or take photos. He’s been sweet, besides a few domineering moments I don’t think he can help because it’s sewn into the fabric of his being.
I even think I might like this side of him.
Does that make me a masochist?
Casper lets go of my wrist and stands. “Come on. We both need to get some sleep.”
I can’t even be bothered to protest anymore, even if he didn’t wait for my decision just like I expected. I feel as if I’m blinking sand, and I desperately need to get a couple hours sleep in.
I follow him from my place to his, wrapping my arms around my waist. A few hours ago, someone was sneaking around the side of my house, ready to break in.
Casper leads us into his home, then turns, watching me walk past him. I make sure he’s locked the front door. He hesitates for a second, looks over his shoulder to me, and then pulls the chain across, letting me know the house is as secure as it can be. Whoever was breaking in isn’t likely to come back now—not after almost being caught.
It’s strange being here alone with him. The silent house and lack of witnesses makes me want to run away and never look back. Casper doesn’t seem to have the same issue.
I hate that he makes me feel like this while he’s so unaffected.
He still isn’t wearing a shirt, and he wasn’t all through the police interviews and everything else that’s happened. No one said anything. The young female cop certainty didn’t, and Casper didn’t seem to care.
If I looked like him, I’d never wear clothes.
“I’ll just grab a couple hours on the sofa and then be out of your way,” I tell him, wringing my hands. This was probably a bad idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to relax enough to sleep.
“You’ll have my room.”
I bark out a laugh and quickly snap my teeth together. His face is completely blank, but he’s not joking. These moments make it impossible to figure him out, and I get the impression he likes it that way.
“You’re serious. Casper, I’m not taking your bed. Look, I’m sure Reggie won’t mind if—”
“No,” he snaps, eyes flashing with… panic? Anger? Irritation?
It’s a non-negotiable reply in a sharp tone that cuts through the thick tension between us, though I’m probably jumpier than usual because my house was broken into last night.
There’s no apology for scaring me. Instead, he takes my hand again and steps closer. I think I can smell the shower gel he uses on his skin. Why didn’t I notice that before? I want to bathe in it.
“It doesn’t make sense for you to take the sofa when there are two empty rooms. I know Reggie wouldn’t mind,” I say. My voice is feeble and dies the moment he steps up so he’s toe-to-toe with me.
He takes a deep breath. I’ve seen him do this a few times in my presence, as if it takes a lot of effort to be around me.
“You’re not sleeping in Reggie’s room, you’re sleeping in mine. Go on up. You know where it is.”
He turns around, walks into the kitchen, and leaves me standing by the locked door.
I glance up the stairs like I’m looking at a mountain I need to hike. Casper’s room is up there, and I’m supposed to go to sleep in his bed.
Damn, I wish he would have let me use Reggie’s room. I really don’t think he would mind, but I understand that Casper doesn’t want to allow it without Reggie’s permission. It’s not like I can call Reggie, either, because then I’ll have to explain. When my friends find out, they’ll want to come home, and I’m not ruining their Easter break.
I climb the stairs and push open Casper’s bedroom door. My room is on the other side of his wall. I used to get into bed and feel safe. I’d look at the wall separating us and think how scary it must be over there—a place where I’m hated, unwanted. Now all that has been flipped.
Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose, stepping deeper into his room. I hate to admit it but surrounded by everything Casper, I instantly feel better.
I take a look around. The walls are painted dark grey, despite the fact that we’re not allowed to decorate from the off-white the whole house is painted in. It’s furnished with chunky wooden pieces and navy bedding.
