Trading for Love

8. How Odd

Vincent POV

I climbed the stairs to the second floor, Charlotte snuggled into my chest. I ducked down the hall to the left of the steps, heading for the far end. Only one bedroom in this wing of the house was occupied, and that was mine. If we were going to keep up appearances in this relationship, it would need to look like we were sharing a room. Even if we weren't really.

I shouldered open the door next to my room. The evening sun streaming through the open curtains on the windows cast long shadows through the room. The room was made over in navy blue and gray. The sleigh bed taking up the center of the room had a blue duvet and pillows on it that matched the couch and the cushions in the window seat. Mitch had left Charlottes duffel on the couch. The fact that she only had one duffel of stuff was a little concerning but money was no object so I would fill her closet with everything she could ever need.

I lowered Charlotte onto the bed, something stiff and hard dragging down my arm as she moved. Charlotte stirred as she settled into the bed, her t-shirt riding up as she turned onto her stomach. As her shirt lifted I expected to see the pale skin of her back but instead caught sight of something tan that seemed to be laced up her back. Could that have been the hard thing that drug down my arm? I glanced at Charlotte, checking to make sure her eyes were still shut before slowly lifting her shirt to get a better look. My stomach turned as I realized what she was wearing.

She was cinched into a corset, the laces pulled tight and knotted in between her shoulders. There were long pieces of boning every few inches contorting her body. The strings had been pulled impossibly tight and knotted at the top, making it impossible to remove on her own.

She was obviously to proud to ask for help before, and she would more than likely be to proud to ask later as well. Rather than leave her to struggle with the knot I would take care of it.

I pulled my pocket knife out, flipping it open with a flick of my wrist. In one quick motion I cut the ties binding her in the corset, her body instantly relaxing as the tension was released. Her curves looked more natural now, still defined but much more fitting to her.

Charlotte gave a long sigh as she nuzzled farther into the bed. I fixed her shirt, gently removing a worn pair of work boots from her feet before flipping the blanket over her. Charlotte slept on.

I shook my head, turning for the door. She had to be truly exhausted to sleep that soundly. My steps faltered for a moment as a dark thought occured to me. What if she was sleeping so soundly because she finally felt safe? I knew Anthonys history, but surly he had never tried anything with Charlotte. The thought of him touching her had me imagining every way I would make him pay for it.

I shook myself, forcing the thoughts away. I had no business making assumptions on Charlottes behalf. For now, I would let her sleep. Tomorrow we would discuss our terms.

* * * *

The clock beside my bed read three fifteen in the morning when I was woken up by a loud crash. In a second I was out of bed, weapon in hand as I slung open the door. I peaked down the hall, noticing the faint glow of light reaching the top of the stairs. The maid always turned off the lights at night. If anyone ever tried to break in, it would be harder for them to find thier way in the dark so seeing a light on at this time was odd to say the least. I crept down the hall, stopping occasionally to listen. I could hear the faint clinking of glass as I got closer to the steps.

Slowly, I peaked around the corner leading to the steps, spotting the source of the noise and light. With a sigh I reached over, quietly tucking my gun in the drawer of a nearby decorative table.

At the bottom of the steps, Charlotte was bent down, quickly attempting to pick up the pieces of a decorative vase that had been situated on the entry ways table. She had changed out of her jeans and t-shirt for a plaid pair of sleep shorts and a black v-neck t-shirt. My breath hitched as she bent lower, giving me a good look at what was beneath that shirt and by god was she blessed. I'd never classified myself as a boob man, but hers would make every man their number one fan. I stepped around the corner, starting down the steps toward Charlotte.

" I can have someone clean that up." As I spoke Charlotte jumped back, dropping the peices she had been holding in her hand. A small curse escaped her lips as she clutched her hand to her chest. Red droplets formed almost instantly where the glass cut her.

" I- I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention and tripped. G-give me just a minute and I'll get it cleaned up," Charlotte stammered out as she dashed down the hall that lead to the kitchen before I could say anything else.

I side stepped the glass, following Charlotte to the kitchen. Charlotte had found the switch for the lights over the island, the white granite sparkling in the light. Charlotte stood at the sink, holding her hand under a gentle stream of water, her face contorted in pain as it splashed over the jagged cut. To her credit, she didn't make a sound to portray the pain she felt.

I stepped closer to her, reaching around her to turn off the water before taking her hand, and gently pressing a tea towel into her palm. She winced at the pain, her eyes staying trained on the floor. Her cheeks colored as she attempted to pull away from my touch.

" I need-" I cut her off.

" Let's get your hand stitched up then we can worry about the glass."

" I'm not going to the hospital for-"

" Who said anything about the hospital?" I chuckled, wrapping her fingers around the towel so I could let go. She raised her eyebrows at me, a questioning look on her face that was pretty freaking adorable. I turned from her, hiding my smile as I dug through the cabinet next to the fridge that was full of medical supplies.

" I can stitch you up."