SHAFTED: an erotic thriller by Hayden Rachael

Author:Hayden, Rachael [Hayden, Rachael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Book Folks & NSNB
Published: 2014-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

Late one afternoon, after the tradespeople had left for the day, I wanted to assess where we were up to. So loaded up with my folder and notebook which I carried in pretense of some level of control, I followed the same route I’d taken that first day.

Despite the strong wind blowing and the old house creaked and rocked around me, it felt secure; reassuringly so for the first time since I moved in. As I walked slowly through each room examining the progress I was disappointed. It was the gentlemen’s club Candice wanted in every way; rich wood paneling, dark wall colors and sumptuous fittings. It was glossy, baroque and alluring. The bedrooms all had different international themes, the kitchen and pantry were complete and the gardens (the only part I could make claim to) were growing into gorgeous shapes.

It wasn’t terrible, just not at all what I’d envisaged. Admittedly, I’d never have got this much done on my own as Candice was incredible with her contacts and management capabilities. But, what bothered me most was that it wasn’t mine. Aunt Bea had bequeathed me the house and the Baronets had taken over like it belonged to them. She would have been upset with my compliance, the thought of which made me feel even guiltier.

That thought depressed me because I knew my outgoing, independent, spinster aunt would have had a word or two to say. So, I entered the only room in the entire house I felt comfortable in; my bedroom. I still loved my bed and the Moulin Rouge theme and was glad Candice hadn’t muscled her interior design into this room. She would have had a fight on her hands otherwise.

Yeah, right.

I made a simple pasta dish for dinner, then had a long shower, climbed into my usual camisole and undies and turned off the lights to head to bed. It was unseasonably cold and the wind hadn’t abated. I listened to the mournful cry whisking around the house and the bed welcomed me into its comforting warmth.

About 30-seconds after I’d snuggled into the covers, I heard the front door open.

They’d returned.

I didn’t want them here anymore.

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