Free Because You Want Me (Falling for You, Book One) by Ava Claire Page B

change. “Home sweet home,” I joked, peering out the window.
    She didn’t laugh. The only sound that followed my comment besides the awkward silence was the beep as the driver punched in the security code at the gate.
    Whether it was daytime or beneath the cover of darkness, the Wade Estate always filled me with a paralyzing sense of dread. The property sat on top of a hill, the architect perfectly capturing how important it was for my father to look down at everyone, judging them with little mercy.
    Oak trees stood like some wood and earth army, their spindly branches stretching and pointing at our car. The house itself scowled down at us, the gothic architecture more horror than the whimsical fantasy my mother usually described it as to other people.
    The driver eased to a stop at the front entrance and promptly opened my door. When a chill cut through my jacket and shirt and seared my bones, I knew the meeting was going to go really well. I rounded the car to Penny’s side, holding out my hand for her. I expected her to slap it out of the way, but she took it and didn’t let go as we ascended the steps to the front door. On the helicopter, her hand fit mine like that was the way it was supposed to be, her fingers twitching with excitement. There was no tremble of excitement rippling through her fingers now. It was back to business as I fed her to the wolves.
    I punched the doorbell and in ten seconds or less, the door was pulled open. Branson, our family butler whose smile was as biting as a frown, stood at attention.
    He cut his eyes at me, his teeth gleaming cordially. “Mr. Wade! I don’t believe madam is expecting you.”
    Even though I wasn’t looking at her, I felt Penny’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline. My mother was a stickler for all things prim and proper, forcing the staff to indulge her fantasy. It was like some BBC show gone terribly wrong.
    “We were in the neighborhood,” I lied.
    Penny grunted under her breath, telling me she thought my reply was just as ridiculous as the ‘madam’.
    I held back my smile, squeezing her hands as I performed the introductions. “Branson, this is my girlfriend, Penny Robertson.”
    Branson shook her hand with more enthusiasm than I’d seen in the two plus decades that he’d been with my family. “Penny? After the-”
    “Beatles song?” she finished. From the muscle that twitched near her temple, I had a feeling she got that all the time, but the warm smile she offered him when we stepped through the door never wavered. “Penny is short for Penelope. I wish I had an exciting story to share, but my mom just liked the name.”
    I smirked, like I should have, but my throat clenched. That was the kind of thing I’d know if we had done this-
    No more ‘right’, remember?
    I dropped the panic that clutched my gut, opening my mouth to ask if she needed a tour, but Branson beat me to the punch, practically putting his arm around her shoulders to steer her away from big, bad Xander.
    “I would be honored to give you a tour while madam prepares for guests, Miss Robertson.”
    Of course she saw us coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a trigger that engaged whenever I was on the property, weighing the occupants and the sound going nuclear when a third, unapproved person was detected. It was dramatic, and over the top—which was right up my mother’s alley.
    “I’d love a tour! And please, call me Penny.” Penny brought our hands to her lips and pressed a kiss on my skin before letting go. Slowly. Like she couldn't stand it.
    I couldn't either.
    She followed Branson down the front corridor, her gentle brown locks swishing around her waist in time with her hips. “The house is beautiful. How long have you worked for the Wades?”
    He scrambled to the grand staircase, the stained glass skylight  casting a rainbow colored halo around his bald head.
    “Twenty five amazing years,” he beamed with pride.
    “And how many people work here?”
    “Two