Possessive

Chapter 6

Dedicated to ShortestOfThemAll, my biggest supporter. Please guys, read her story Unconditionally. It is completely exceptional.

He lived in a mansion? I knew he was rich but I thought he was one of those playboys that had a pent house with a view of New York that seemed to swoon the women and their panties into submission. I never thought he actually buy a house!

Tristan disappeared leaving me alone with his butler. At least I hoped he was the butler. The man was old and he had a grandfather like air about him that made me want to hug him though I restrained myself.

"Miss, if you would follow me please," the man said and gestured with his hand towards the door.

I stepped through the front door and almost immediately, my knees buckled. If I thought the outside was beautiful, then there had to be something wrong with my eyes. I felt like I had stepped into the castle age with glassy chandeliers, big fireplaces and long dinner tables. There was an air of loneliness and confusion lingering in the mansion but that didn't even mar the beauty of the interior.

The old man led me up the grand staircase and down a series of hallways, all dark except for the little light coming from the lanterns that hung on the walls. Just when I thought my legs would give out in the stilettos I was wearing, we finally stopped in front of a double door room. The old man opened the wooden doors and stepped aside to let me through.

I was standing inside of a bedroom, a room that was bigger than my own apartment. Sitting in the middle of the room was a magnificent king sized bed covered in crisp white sheets and a large black comforter. There were two other doors in the room. I assumed they were the closet and the bathroom ensuite. A leather sofa sat underneath a window with a view of the.....vineyard? He owns a vineyard?! Damn! The room was amazing.

"Mr. Devareaux will be with you shortly," I heard the old man say.

Wait, what? I turned to face him just as he was leaving the room. "Excuse me but I can't stay here. I need to get home."

The old man smiled like he was having some kind of inside joke and shook his head. "Mr. Devareaux assured me that you needed to stay here."

My eyes widened. Stay here? "Am I some sort of prisoner?"

"No, you are not."

I looked behind the old man to see Tristan standing in the large doorway. I think I forgot how to breathe. Tristan had changed out of his suit and instead was wearing gray track pants and a white V neck shirt that clearly accentuated his muscles. He noticed I was star struck when he sported a smirk that made him look even sexier. He looked at the old man.

"You may go, Gerald, thank you."

Gerald nodded his head and took his leave. I was alone with Tristan in a room in his mansion. My heart was leaping with joy in my chest and my subconscious was screaming at me to jump on the bed. I chose to ignore both, though it was very hard.

"Are you going to take me home now?" I asked.

Tristan's eyes roamed over my body slowly and it took all I had not to jump him. I knew he could never like me that way. He preferred women that had bank accounts with more money that exceeded one million dollars and a confident personality. Tristan Devareaux had flings. He most certainly did not do relationships so I was kidding myself.

"Here," Tristan said as he tossed me clothes that I didn't even know he had in his hands. "Change into that." He pointed to the door in the corner.

I walked past him, heading towards the bathroom. I felt like a child being reprimanded by its parent. I did not even take time to look at the beauty of the marvelous bathroom. I needed to get out of here and fast.

I exited the bathroom with my dirty dress and my stilettos in hand. There was nothing I could do about my rat's nest of hair. It felt weird but right being in Tristan's clothes. He had given me a pair of his boxers and a T shirt that was way too long for me.

He was sitting on the bed when I entered. He looked up and I swear I saw a hint of lust in his eyes but it may have been my imagination. I pushed some hair behind my ear and stood next to the bed a few feet away from Tristan. We stared at each other as silence lingered in the room. I could not figure out if it was a tense silence or a comfortable silence. All I knew was that I still had yet to figure out how I was going to convince Tristan to let me go home.

"Come here," Tristan said, his voice deep and dark.

I hesitated before slowly walking towards him, my bundles hugged close to my chest. I stood right in front of him, our height being the same as he was sitting on the bed. He grabbed my dress and my shoes from the hands and dropped them on the floor. I breathlessly gasped as he placed his rough hands gently on my waist. Suddenly and unexpectedly, Tristan picked me up like I weighed nothing and stood up, twisting his body so that I was backing the bed and gently placed me on it.

He pulled a first aid kit that I didn't even see a little closer to him and pulled out an ice pack. Silently, Tristan pushed back my hair from my forehead and gently placed the ice pack on my wound. I winced from the sudden contact with the cold.

"Mr. Devareaux...." I started but got cut off.

"Tristan, Heaven. Call me Tristan," he softly said.

I silently gasped at his order. In the three years that I have worked for him, he had never minded it when I politely called him Mr. Devareaux. What is with the sudden change now?

I gulped nervously. "Tristan," I said slowly. "You don't have to do this. I told you I would be fine."

"Are you, Heaven?" he asked as he stared deeply into my eyes. I knew I should answer but I felt myself getting lost in his hazel orbs. He made me forget all about that disgusting pig. He made me forget all about my wound. He made me feel safe. And I was glad for the feeling.

"Are you fine, Heaven?" Tristan asked again, bringing me out his spell. The smirk on his face told me that he knew I was staring at him thought it did not really reach his eyes. Right then and there, I knew that Tristan was thinking about the man.

I scowled and folded my arms across my chest. "Yes, I'm fine! I told you that a million times tonight. Do you want it in writing now?"

Tristan's eyes glittered with amusement as he tilted his head. He was trying not to smile but failed when a grin broke out of his lips. I was taken back. This was the first time I ever really saw him smile.

"Are you being sarcastic with me, Heaven?"

"No, I'm just being truthful," I replied.

Once again, we lapsed into a silence that was indefinable. Tristan took the ice pack off the wound five minutes later and I happily sighed. He took out cotton balls and poured alcohol on them, immediately place them on the wound. I grimaced when I felt the alcohol seeped into my wound and made it burn but after a while, I grew comfortable with the sensation. Tristan wiped the blood away and gently covered the wound with a bandage. It was mesmerizing; watching the way his hands skillfully worked magic on my wound.

"Thank you," I whispered as Tristan was disposing of the mess he made.

Tristan silently stared at me, his eyes roaming over me before making their way back up to my face. He seemed to be submerged in his thoughts, his eyes getting darker as he looked at the bandage on my head.

"It's time for bed. Good night, Heaven."

He grabbed the first aid kit, my dirty dress and my shoes and marched through the doors, leaving to wonder about four things.

Tristan's sudden weird behavior, my clothes, the fact that I clearly was not going home and where the heck was my glass of wine!