Best of Penny Wylder: Dirtier Love Romance by Wylder Penny

Author:Wylder, Penny
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-19T16:00:00+00:00

2

My work clothes seem out of place in front of Kodiche’s house. I feel small and plain in my black slacks, flats, and simple floral blouse. This is seriously a mansion, like what you expect a celebrity to live in, not a CEO. It’s huge, and other than a single light above the entryway, the entire place looks dark and forbidding.

It’s not what I expected, not that I have any idea what to expect from Kodiche—Mr. Lamant, I correct myself. What did he mean when he said I’d have seven days to prove I can obey? I follow orders just fine! I've just been overtired and that's made me a little clumsy, that’s all.

Even the front door of his home is imposing. I feel like Belle going up to the Beast’s castle. The iron bars seem almost like a cage as I open the screen door they’re attached to. A painted sign bearing the words Lamants’ LaManse is the only decoration marring the austere finish. Knocking on the wooden door inside, I hear a faint echo of sound from somewhere beyond it, followed by the door being thrown open.

“Hello,” I start. I think I was expecting a house this size to have a butler or something, not to have Mr. Lamant open the door personally for me. He’s ditched his usual suit jacket, but otherwise, he looks like he stepped out of the office and in front of me. Black trousers, freshly ironed so that the lines are crisp, a silver button-down, a dark grey vest, and a sleek silver tie complete his look.

His sleeves are cuffed up to show hints of tattoos on his forearms, his pants hugging his crotch in a way that borders on obscene. The diamonds on his watch and earring complete the rich bad boy look.

“Vivian.” His voice is oddly warm, and it flows out from him as he looks me up and down. “I’m impressed you showed up.” He sounds surprised, but pleasantly so. The fact that he’s surprised makes me even more nervous about his plans.

I’ve seen his apartment downtown that he uses for hosting work parties. This is his “weekend house,” and he invited me here in the middle of the week. I try not to dwell on how far away we feel from the rest of the world.

“No bags? I did tell you you'd be here for the week.” His eyebrows lowers; my gut twists, because I've already made a dumb mistake. Mr. Lamant retreats into the vestibule without waiting for me to respond, leaving me to gawk at the marble floor and circular stairwell leading up. My breath catches in my chest as I take in the landing with stained glass artwork and a statue of a little girl holding a cat. “Don’t worry about that dusty old thing. It won’t fall, I promise. Come along, Vivian. I’ll show you around.”

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