Page 7 of Stolen By The Boss


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We haven’t been on this island a full twenty-four hours and already I can’t wait to leave. Last night, I let Sophia retreat to the room we assigned for Mia and didn’t bother her. It was late. We were all tired. Now, I’m wondering if she’s left that room at all since last night.

It’s daylight now, and storm preparations are well underway.

“Sir, I’m going to run out to the store to get more water,” Leo says.

I nod, striding down the hallway toward Sophia’s room. When she hit me, it stunned me. I wanted to lock her in a dungeon somewhere and throw away the key. I honestly didn’t care what happened to her, and I’m ashamed to admit I even thought about banishing her from my mansion and letting her fend for herself on the island.

However, there’s something there. There’s so much fire hidden behind the curtain of her courage. It intrigues me.

And pulls something inside me.

I want to unveil her secrets.

I want to break down her walls, but first I have shit to get sorted. There’s so much to do. I’m telling myself the primary reason I’m keeping her around is because she knows something about Bishop Blackstone.

She had the intel Bishop was looking to kidnap Mia DeWinter. And I want to know what else she knows.

So, I suck it up, push my pride from being hit by a woman aside and knock on her door. “Sophia, I want to talk to you.”

“Go away.”

Stubborn woman.

“I’m sure by now you’re hungry.” There, survival instinct is a powerful weapon. And I’m using it against her now.

The door cracks and a brown eye stares back at me. “You have food?”

“Yes, follow me to the kitchen and we’ll get you fed.”

Sophia opens the door dressed in the same outfit she had on last night. All soft and cute, that silk pajama set is a deceptive disguise.

She moves past me and I watch her hips sway.

Fuck.

She’s using her weapons too.

I lead her to the kitchen, and together we look through the fridge to find something to eat. This morning when I woke I had breakfast waiting for me, made by my housekeeper, Ines. I was still too angry with Sophia to have someone offer her breakfast, and I figured if she was hungry she could come down to the kitchen herself.

Now I need something from her. So, I have to play nice. After all, her last meal was over twenty-four hours ago.

“When will the storm be hitting?” she asks as I pull out some eggs and bread for toast.

The sky’s gloomy, filled with big gray clouds, announcing the storm looming over the horizon.

“Later tonight. We’ll be fine here. House sits on higher elevation and we have storm proof windows.”

She smiles a little and then raises her hand to touch my face. I pull away, grabbing her hand with mine. “I’m so sorry I punched you.”

Our eyes challenge each other, and I don’t drop her hand until I’m sure she won’t be delivering another blow.

I release her and remove a pan from the cabinet. “Do you like scrambled eggs? It’s my specialty.”

“Yes, ok.” She stares at me and after a minute says, “Again, I’m sorry I hit you.”

I stop cracking the eggs and gaze into her mesmerizing eyes. “It’s fine. Just know this, if you do that again, I’ll make sure you never leave this island.”

She swallows. “Ok.”

I make her breakfast and as she eats I sit next to her, wondering how to broach the subject of Bishop.

“You must loathe him.”

“More than that.” She doesn’t even need to be told who I’m speaking of, she already knows. “I hate him.”

“To give your life to make sure he’s dead. He must have done something pretty bad.”

She stops chewing and assesses me for a moment. “What Bishop did is my story to tell.”

This is more than a woman scorned thing. I don’t believe they were once lovers and he broke her heart. At least, I’m hoping they weren’t lovers, because my chest tightens when I think about them together.

“Hey, I get it.” I lean back in my chair as we sit at the dining room table. “You don’t need to tell me your story. Although, I would like to know how you knew Bishop was coming after Mia.”

She pushes her mostly finished breakfast to the side. “I have people who like to spill the beans.”

I crack a grin. “And what kinds of beans do they spill?”

“The juicy kind.” She shrugs.

I decide to drop it, because this conversation is going nowhere. I need her to trust me just a little more. Who are these people?

I grab her plate, bringing it to the sink and then take a seat back at the table with her. “It would be much easier if we worked together.”

“I’d never work with you.”

“So be it.” I stand. “You should remain on the property because the storm will be here soon and I don’t like your chances out there.” I smile. “But, do whatever you want.”

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