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“Do your best,” I challenge, my breaths growing panicked. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
“I’m askin’ ya to tell me.”
“And I’m telling you that I can’t.”
And this is something I won’t budge on. The lives of the people I love most in this world rely on me. Failing isn’t an option. I don’t trusthim…but better the devil you know.
“Amber thinks yer accent is off. That ya don’t sound like a Londoner.”
And that’s because I’m not.
I knew she’d be onto me. This is spiraling out of control. “I thought Amber was a nanny, not the FBI.”
“Get up.”
Before I can ask what’s going on, he launches off the bed and pulls back the curtain on the window to let in the moonlight. My eyes adjust to the change in lighting, and I see that he’s still in his suit but missing his tie and jacket.
I wonder what happened tonight. The fact he’s here means the police didn’t find anything. Everyone was escorted from the residence, much to the horror of all the gossipers. The Kellys reputation is notorious for another reason now.
They’re no longer untouchable as the chief constable isn’t playing by their rules. He’s in cahoots with another family.
I won’t cower. I didn’t get this far being a coward, so I toss aside the blanket and stand angrily, daring Punky to do his best. But his best tests my bravado.
“Those welts on ye, I reckon they were punishment for not givin’ the right answer. They show how hard it is to break ye. I respect that.”
I stand perfectly still, watching Punky closely.
“But, wee doll, I’m just as stubborn as you,” he warns, interlocking his hands behind his back. “I have an advantage over whoever that fucker was, and that’s ’cause I think ye’d like me to punish ye.”
A gasp leaves me because…he’s right.
Losing control with Punky is a taste of freedom which I’ve become addicted to. Being shackled against my will with invisible manacles has crushed my very soul. But being with Punky is the only time I feel free.
He is dangerous, vicious, and ruthless, but that just makes me want him all the more. I know he’d never really hurt me. He could, but he won’t, and that’s because he knows I can hurt him too.
We share an equal playing field, although I have an advantage—I know who’s hunting him. They’re hunting me, too.
“Cocky much?” I quip, pretending I’m not quivering at the thought.
His grin catches the moonlight, and I remember how utterly sinful he looked with his face slathered in war paint. He scares me…and I like it.
“Only one way to find out. Ya can take that off, or I will.”
He’s referring to my nightgown.
This is a test. He doesn’t know how to break me, so he’s trying to scare me instead. But I’m not easily scared.
Without hesitation, I slip the nightgown over my head, and it pools by my feet as I drop it, unapologetically. The darkness helps with my confidence, and I wonder if this is the reason he didn’t turn on the light.
We both thrive in the darkness because it’s here, where our demons can play.
His unhurried examination of me both excites and terrifies me in the same breath. Every part of me craves his touch. I know what his hands, his mouth, his tongue feel like, and my body wants more.
“Who’re ye?” he asks, his confusion, his frustration clear.
“I’m Babydoll,” I whisper, happy to be anyone other than me.
“I could force ya to tell me.”
