Keep Me (Sinful Manor, #1)

by Sara Cate

For my mom—if you read this, let’s never, ever talk about it.

I’m going to prove to him right now how fun and spontaneous I can be. I’ll snap a picture of that old typewriter that his great-great-whatever wrote some dumb old classic novel on, and that’ll show him.

B&E for a pic of a typewriter??

Resting on a large ornate wooden table is a huge vase full of flowers next to a dusty old typewriter. “Gotcha,” I whisper as I quickly tiptoe through the room.

Reaching the bottom step, I leap to the right. An enormous hand wraps around my arm, hauling me to a stop before I can make my escape. I let out a scream, turning around to gape at the impossibly large man scowling down at me with my arm still gripped in his fist.

The man looks to be older than me, maybe midthirties. With long brown hair and a thick beard, all I can really see are his bright green eyes.

“I’m just starting to wonder…” he says with a note of sarcasm in his voice, “if you’re here for the same reason she was. Perhaps you can pick up where she left off.”

At least I made it out of there unharmed. And I’m never going back.

Fat chance

“Yeah, well, you’re twenty-five now, Sylvie. It’s about time you start acting like it.”

he’s almost thirty-seven years old. He’s the oldest of four in the Barclay family and has been living in the manor since the death of his parents when he was eighteen.

“It’s quite complicated, but the only way for my family to access the ownership of the manor is if it’s transferred out of our brother’s name. And the only way for it to be transferred out of his name is if he remains married for at least one year. At which point, ownership of the home would be granted to his wife.” “One year?” I stutter. “Or until they have a child.”

“So…what’s to stop me from just keeping the house to myself after the year of marriage, if, like you said, I will have ownership of it?” Her lips purse. “Because there would be a very strict contract that states you will sign the deed over to my family or face a hefty fine worth more than the cost of the manor itself.”

“He said you were the rudest, meanest, most infuriating woman he’d ever met.” “And that made you think I’d be a good fit for this?” “No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “But he did.”

I’m in this for me. Which means over the next twelve months, I’m about to become this man’s worst nightmare.

“You can go anywhere you’d like. I’m not holding you here, but for your safety, we’d prefer if you’d use the driver.”

“Because as soon as the year is up, I don’t want to have a wife anymore. As soon as my family sees that I’m a changed man, they’ll leave me be, and I can stay in my house without them meddling in my business.

“So, I’d rather marry a selfish, rude, ugly, entitled cow like you so I never have to worry about hurting your feelings or wanting to make you happy. We stay our separate ways and get through the next twelve months without having to see each other much. Do we have a deal?”

“I’ll fuck anyone I please, and you’ll keep your mouth shut about it, or you’ll risk us both losing what was promised to us.”

I don’t feel bad that all of this is just his family tricking him out of his home. If he wants to be a rude and uncultured brute, then I won’t feel bad at all.

It’s honestly not fair how handsome he looks, even from the back. But let’s be honest, that kilt is doing the heavy lifting. His personality makes it very hard to find him the least bit attractive.

When we reach the front, I notice Lachy smiling, and I keep my eyes on him. He looks to be closer to my age and much more like the guy I’d be dating than Killian.

There are moments when families laugh together that make the absence of mine feel debilitating. Then there are moments when they are obnoxious and overbearing that make me grateful mine are not here.

I desperately need a break. But as soon as I reach the gravel pathway below, I nearly run headfirst into the last man on earth I want to see—my husband.

“Yeah. It sounds strange, and I’m sure you think we’re terrible for lying to him, but there’s so much you don’t know about Killian. He needs this.”

pragmatic.”

Sensible And realistic

But I do want you to understand that my brother is a good man. He’s just…been through a lot. He’s hurting, and there’s nothing any of us can do to help anymore. But I think having you around might.”

I let my eyes drift closed, and I force a few deep breaths into my lungs. Because I know exactly what Lachy is trying to say. But I also know what it’s like to hate everyone. He’s just sweet and naive, so he might not understand what it’s like to be so filled with hate that it blooms like flowers in your bloodstream.

He might not think Killian truly hates anyone, but I think it is quite possible he does. Because I do.

Just as my fingers brush the device, my gaze lands on something strange. It’s a black leather strap fastened to the post. “What the…?” My fingers touch the strap, grazing along the frayed edge, where it was clearly cut. I quickly stand up and inspect the rest of the bedposts, but they don’t have the same leather strap.

“Did you just admit that I’m your type?” “No,” I reply with a growl. “Careful, darling. You wouldn’t want your wife to suspect you of catching feelings.”

This is the first time my friends have visited since I stopped throwing wild parties. Nearly two years it’s been since then, and already I can feel their eyes and expectations. This won’t be like it was before though, or so I keep telling myself.

She’s in a thin green dress, deep cut and hanging from her delicate shoulders. Judging by the thin straps and the sight of her perky nipples under the satin, she’s not wearing a bra. Suddenly, my throat is dry, and my cock gives a twitch.

It’s not like the day of our wedding, when she was still a stranger, and there was nothing in the eye contact between us. Now, she’s staring up at me with cold, lifeless eyes. It’s the insignificance in her gaze that pains me. As if she doesn’t care about me at all. I much prefer the hatred.

I haul her closer and press my lips firmly against hers. My friends whoop and holler at the show of affection. Sylvie keeps up her struggle, and it only encourages me more.

Instead of pulling away or ending the kiss, I deepen it. This only makes my friends grow louder, urging me on as I scoop her tighter to my body and kiss her with heat and passion. Our tongues tangle, and our teeth nibble, and somewhere along the way, she stops fighting and simply melts in my arms.

“I don’t understand you married guys. Doesn’t that bother you? For other men to touch your woman?” My jaw clenches, but I bury the rising hesitation. “It just means I get to remind her who she belongs to when she comes back.” Liam’s eyes widen. “Good point.”

I stumble down the hall toward the stairs just to see for myself. I make it about two steps before another pair of soft hands wrap around my waist. Sylvie.

Is it really…??

“God, please touch me. I need you,” she whimpers into my mouth. It sounds wrong. But I’m too drunk to stop it.

Cuz its not Sylvie

I don’t understand these feelings for Sylvie. This hate-fueled desire. This need to own her, dominate her, force her to submit, make her mine. I don’t want her. I don’t care about her. I just need her.

Before I know what I’m doing, my finger is inside her. She’s clinging to my arm, moaning and whimpering. And suddenly, I realize that this is all too easy. Something is missing.

missed you so much,” she mutters. “Please fuck me, Killian.” I yank my hand from under her dress. “Bloody hell,” I groan as my back hits the wall, and I realize what I’ve done.

“Let go of me, you fucking brute!” she shrieks. But I don’t stop. All I can see is her letting Liam put his hands on her. Letting him take what should be mine. Making a fool of me.

“Everyone is down there fucking, Killian! You think I can’t tell what kind of party this is? You think I couldn’t see the way you were pushing me toward him? I know what you told him, Killian! That we have an open marriage. I know deep down you were hoping I would fuck him because you think that would be your free ride to fuck whoever you want!”

“Get your hands off me!” she shrieks, trying to tear her arm from my grip. I tighten it and lean in, sneering in her face. “You are my wife, and I will put my hands on you as much as I want.” I say it only to fuel her rage. It’s too easy to do.

She tries to move away, but I yank her back toward me. When I do, I spot a hint of moisture in her eyes. Something I said hit a nerve.

The more she screams, the more we struggle. Until the only way I can calm her is to force her to the bed, draping my body over hers. Taking her wrists in my hands, I pin them to the bed over her head.

You two are more alike than you think. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t bother arguing with you. He’s not afraid to hurt your feelings because he knows you can take it. He sees your strength, Sylvie. And I truly believe he will miss you when you’re gone.”

I realize as I march angrily into the now-dark city streets that threatening murder might not be a huge improvement in maturity from throwing drinks at her like a child, but it is an improvement nonetheless. And for that, I’m sort of proud.

The door flies open, and I let out a gasp. Killian’s panicked expression has my skin tingling with goose bumps. “Where the fuck have you been?” he bellows. I’ve never heard him sound so angry. I take a step farther away.

Before he can cause a scene and have the police take him to jail, I put up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!” I shriek. “I’ll get in. Just…relax.”

I still can’t get over the fact that Killian is driving a car. He’s not at the house. He…left.