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He takes this out of context. Anger clouds his face. “You got someone waiting for you at home?”
His words surprise me. “Do you think I would sleep with you if did?” There’s a hint of anger in my words, and for good reason. I am many things, but I’m not a cheat. No one owns me yet.
I have no idea how to undo the deal my father’s made, but there must be a way. I do not want to be Mrs Sariah Wood. The thought makes my skin crawl as if I am covered in bugs.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know the first thing about you.”
Some of my anger fades because he’s right; he doesn’t know anything about me.
Just as I don’t know anything about him.
And that is how it has to stay.
“I have to go,” I repeat.
He releases his hold on my wrist and I move to find my clothes so I can redress. “Meet me again.”
I twist around to look at him, surprised by his words. “Why?”
His brows come together once more, and I get the impression I’ve confused him. “Because one time wasn’t enough.”
I should say no, but part of me wants to see him again. I chew on my bottom lip for a moment. “I can’t promise anything.”
I can’t.
Getting out of the house once was risky enough. Doing it again is playing with fire. If my father catches me, he’ll beat me bloody.
“I come to the club most Fridays,” he says. “Be there next week.”
I nod, elation washing through me that he wants to see me again.
Once I’m dressed, I grab my clutch bag and head for the door. I pause before stepping through it and twist back to him. “You have no idea what you did for me tonight. Thank you.”
Before he can say anything else, I slip out of the room and rush down the corridor to make my way home. But my head is full of Luke and the hope that perhaps we could be more than we are.
