Page 48 of Possessive Mr. Pen

“She’s just a child.Leave her alone,” she says through gritted teeth.

I pull her to my front and cup the back of her head.To those around us, it appears a loving and doting embrace, but I sink my nails into her scalp and crush her to me as I snarl, “I don’t think—”

“You also thought I wouldn’t have to act, so shut up,” she hisses.“The business world may be yours, but this is women’s work.If you have the funds, let me handle it,” she demands.

I drop my forehead to hers and brush my nose back and forth over hers.

“I want to eat you alive when you challenge me like this,” I growl.

“You haven’t paid me enough for that yet,” she quips.

Fury and hunger override my control, and I take her mouth in a deep, searing kiss.She stiffens before melting in my arms and giving me back every ounce of desperation until my head spins.

I rip my mouth away only to brush my lips over hers in a show of endearment.

I’ve already put her in too much danger.Our display paints too much of a target on her head, but if anyone can handle the heat, it’s my gladiator goddess.

I angle her away from me, drape my arm over her shoulders, and lead her to the counter.

An attendant greets us and begins testing our worth through the normal salesperson rhetoric.

Hilary gasps and points to the set of rings nestled in the velvet display tray in the aid’s hands.

“Those are gorgeous,” she gushes.

The aid freezes like a deer caught in the headlights.Jocelyn’s expression turns murderous.She opens her painted mouth to call the aid over, but Hilary presses her fingers to her lips and produces a single tear as she chokes words past her emotions.

“I swear I saw those in my dream last night.They’re perfect.Please let me try them on.”

The aid stammers and shuffles back while our attendant scrambles to keep up.“I’m sorry, miss—”

“Excuse me, I requested them first,” Jocelyn hisses from her perch on the couch in the posh alcove.

Hilary bites back a tortured sob and shakes her head.

“No, you’re right.I’m sorry, I—” Looking overcome with misery, she covers her face with her hands and ducks into my chest.

I wrap my arms around her and scowl at the attendant as I pat her back.

The store manager rushes out from the back room with horror plastered on his surgically altered features.He must have watched the scene unfold on the security camera.

With grace born of years’ worth of training, he puts his body between us and the aid and gestures for the poor sap to continue toward Mrs.Koch.

“Sir, we have many other sets by the same designer—”

Hilary sobs and clutches my lapels.Annoyance flits across the manager’s face, but he slaps a look of sympathy on top and pulls three velvet trays out of the display case.

“These are—”

Hilary burrows deeper into me.Pain pulses through my abused organs, but I hold her tighter and deepen my glare.

“I’ll take those,” I say with a nod toward the woman who murdered my mother.

Certain of her victory, she gives me a haughty look through her overdone eyelashes before smiling at the attendant.

“Sir, you may not understand because you’re new here, but—”

“Excuse me?”I growl.