Or use to harm herself.
Just luxury, and the man sitting between her and the only way out.
A gilded cage for a defiant bird.
As many have been before.
But she’s unlike any of them. I harden in a way I haven’t in years. Barbaric thoughts pound at my temples.
Mine. The contract tells me so.
And something in my gut keeps telling me something else.
I’m fucked.
She groans, her lithe legs lengthening under the sheets, and the sound she makes goes straight to my dick. She’s five foot two at the most. Maybe a hundred pounds. Likely less.
A burst of hot jealousy floods my veins, thinking of my staff snatching her from her bed last night.
They were touching her and looking at her with lust, I’m sure. I want to call them to my office, sever their hands, remove their eyes—
As I work through the bloody consequences of their actions, she does something I don't expect.
Her hands fly to her face, eyes pinned on the ceiling, fingertips pressing into those wide, doe-like eyes, then…
She laughs.
Not a chuckle. Not a tentative giggle. A bold, knowing guffaw.
"Of course," she exclaims, her hands flying upward then back down to press the tips of her index fingers above her eyebrows. "Of fucking course."
I'm gripping the chair arm so hard, my knuckles crack.
Her voice has an edge that makes something dark and hungry slither through my chest.
I shift in my seat, my pants uncomfortably tight, and reach for the pitcher on her bedside table.
The ice inside has long since melted while I sat here watching her chest rise and fall.
“This isfucked.” She flings her eyes my way, and I feel it in my chest. “Fucking Hoover. He can’t stand to lose.”
"Here," I say, as I pour and hold the glass out to her. The medication in her system has dehydrated her. It does all of them. "You need fluids."
She ignores me. Instead, her eyes dart over my shoulder to the window, the door, the corners of the room.
Situational awareness. I recognize it.
She’s looking for exits. For weapons. For anything she can use. Interesting response for a princess who’s grown up surrounded by security and luxury.
Her proximity assessment apparently complete, she fixes me with a defiant stare, my hand frozen in the air holding the glass as the water inside trembles.
When was the last time someone looked at me without flinching? My cock is as hard as a battering ram.
Jesus. I'm supposed to be rehabilitating her. Training her to be an obedient daughter, then a wife for whatever alliance Hoover's cooked up. His business ventures span the globe and cross lines between legal and underworld.
He has strong, dark political alliances as well, so the possibilities of how Larissa was to be used in his empire are vast.
And none of them likely considered her best interests.
