Continental Life by Ella Dominguez Read Free Book Online Page B

sure she wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t.
    The bulky wrought-iron gates clanged shut behind her as Dante drove away and the damp sea air whipped her hair all around her face. The magnificent sunset reflected off the amber tinted windows of the renovated residence, nearly blinding her as she continued to soak up the ambiance. It was odd, but she had expected something… different. She had dreamt of this place several times, but in her dreams, the edifice was gothic and foreboding, larger and menacing with endless halls and dark dungeons in the basement filled with sexual tools of torture. This place was nothing like that. It was astonishingly beautiful and tranquil, at least on outward appearances. Hopefully the interior was just as peaceful.
    Xander was already at The Center waiting for her. On nights when he taught, he drove himself in what he deemed to be “a less conspicuous mode of transportation”; his version of less conspicuous being a pearl white Rossion Q1. She was marrying a man with unabashed extravagant tastes, she reminded herself.
    Just as she lifted her hand to touch the door chime, a voice came over a small intercom and the doors unlatched.
    “Please enter and seat yourself in the foyer. The Lords will see you shortly.” The faceless voice on the other end was soft and feminine.
    Lord s. Is that what Xander was - a Lord to his students? Her belly roiled with a mixture of lust and jealousy. She didn’t like the thought of him being anyone’s Lord except hers. She took a quick inventory of her appearance to make sure everything was in place and fingered her hair, pushing a few loose strands back into the tight bun she had knotted at the back of her head. Just as she began to smooth her dress over her thighs, she heard the heavy footsteps of a man approaching her. She lifted her smiling face expecting to see Xander, but was instead greeted by a hard looking middle-aged man with a long, deep scar that reached from the corner of his mouth to underneath his eye. Wearing dress trousers, a charcoal-colored Victorian frock coat with a vest underneath and a silver, silk puff tie, his appearance was reminiscent of photos she had seen of the Victorian or early 19 th century era. Regardless of his eccentric outfit and scar, he was undeniably handsome. Or maybe it was just the control and dominance he was radiating.
    His white-blonde and gray, layered-cut hair caught the light of the overhead chandelier as did the whites of his eyes. His sky-blue irises scanned her body, starting at her four inch heels, resting on her chest briefly, and then moving up to her eyes. It was difficult to decipher his expression. Uneasy with his unflinching stare, she widened her smile, stood and reached a hand out to greet him.
    “I’m Bella…”
    “I know who you are,” he replied blandly. Without taking her hand he spun on his heel and began to walk rapidly away from her. “This way,” he barked.
    With her small bag tucked under her arm, she kept a safe distance as the unnamed man began climbing a winding staircase. Gripping the decoratively hand-carved banister, her eyes darted around at each landing between floors as she tried to take in all the details. The interior of the home was even more impressive than the exterior. The halls were lined with various photographs of young women and men, all neatly dressed in uniforms. Each photo had a corresponding year, making it evident that these were graduation pictures.
    At the final landing, six large photos hung on the wall facing the stairs, each with a brass name plate underneath bearing their names. Above the ornately framed photos another brass plate read: Lords of Discipline. So that’s what Xander was Lord of. She browsed the pictures quickly as she passed but did a double-take when she saw Xander’s haunting, green eyes staring back at her.
    Lingering too long in front of her fiancé’s stoic photo, she heard a door open and a stern voice. “Stop dawdling, Ms.