Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Now I know for sure something’s up. Why else would he be this polite? Last night, he was looking at me like he couldn’t stand the sight of me, and now he’s asking permission to sit near me. Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck or whatever the saying is?
“You’re sort of running things around here,” I point out as gently as I can. “You don’t need to ask for my permission.”
“There’s something to be said for having manners, and I’m nothing if not polite.” He takes a seat near the foot of the bed, careful to adjust his fancy suit pants before settling in.
“I’m sure this all seems confusing,” he muses, and I hear the sympathy in his voice. The question is, is it sincere?
“Very,” I agree, drawing my legs up tight against my body. I don’t want any part of me coming into accidental contact with any part of him. He knocked me out—I can’t forget that. In fact, the thought of it makes me lift a hand to the back of my head. It’s swollen and stings when I touch it.
And he’s always so polite? I wonder how he chooses to explain away this sort of thing.
He winces when he recognizes the gesture. “You’ll have to forgive me for that.”
“Do I, now?” I blurt out before thinking. Probably not a good idea to smart off to the man.
He takes it well enough, though, and chuckles softly. “It’s up to you. In our line of work, you can never be too careful.”
I’m still not sure how dangerous they thought I was going to be, unarmed and clueless, but I’m not going to argue.
“I really don’t know anything. I wish you guys would listen to me.”
“Like I said. We have to be careful.”
I had to try, didn’t I? I knew it wouldn’t be enough to get through to him. He and his pal have a very definite idea of who I am. So what if they’re completely wrong? There’s no convincing them.
He eyes the empty wrapper sitting beside me. “That can’t have been enough food. Do you want something else?”
My stomach growls like it heard him. Of course, a single protein bar isn’t enough. But I’m also too upset to care much about eating, no matter how my stomach feels about it.
“I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself. We can’t have you wasting away to nothing.” His gaze lands on my legs, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies them. “That would be a crime.”
Goose bumps pebble my arms. “I wouldn’t like it very much,” I whisper, but he hears me anyway.
“No, I doubt you would.” He’s still staring at me, then creeps a little closer, his hand sliding over the duvet. “You know, you could make this easier on yourself.”
I don’t want him to know he’s getting to me, but I can’t sit here and allow him to get away with whatever he has in mind, either. I pull my legs even closer, my arms wrapped around them, my feet tucked in close.
“What are you so scared of?” he asks, chuckling. “I won’t bite.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” I watch him from over the tops of my knees. “But maybe I do. Ever think of that? Maybe I’m trying to keep you safe from me.”
When he laughs, his face transforms into something a lot more human. “You’re funny. And you’ve got a backbone. You could scream and wail and be a general pain in the ass, but you haven’t been. I’ve always had a weakness for women like you.”
He reaches out, touching my calf, and I shuffle closer to the headboard. It’s useless, though. This bed isn’t very big, and he has extremely long arms.
“Please…” I’m shaking, and I’m sure he sees it, but that won’t stop him.
“What? I’m not going to hurt you. But let’s be honest. A girl like you with a body like this? Running around at night wearing a dress like that? Don’t act like you’re some innocent little thing.” Suddenly, he grips my ankle, then jerks hard enough that he pulls my leg straight.
Oh my god, I’m going to be sick. Is this a game? Another test to see if I’ll break down?
“Stop, please,” I beg, my voice shaking.
“I’m just saying.” He takes the other ankle, then pulls both of them until I slide farther down the bed. Now he’s close to me, pawing at me. “If we both have to be here, why not have some fun?”
It’s like trying to fight off an octopus—I push his hands away, but they only end up someplace else. On my breasts, my ass, my thighs, which are now bare thanks to the dress riding up. “Please, stop!”
“Prince!”
I barely register the sound of Enzo’s roar and what it means before he grabs Prince by his suit jacket and hauls him off the bed, pulling him out of the room without saying another word. I’m weak with relief, ready to collapse. My heart’s racing, blood pounding in my ears, and I want to go home. Why won’t they let me go home?