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I shouldn’t pry or step my foot in a place it’s not welcome, but when I hear the higher-pitched voice of the stowaway we found, I freeze.
I don’t care if I’m half dressed. I don’t care if he’ll get mad at me. I can deal with that. If he’s being too harsh on a boy…
I slow my steps as I turn the corner. No need for me to make a big appearance. No need for him to even really know I was ever here.
Conveniently, they’re meeting right outside the spa with a guest services doorway I can hide in.
Salvatore’s passing in front of the seated boy. “What did I tell you would happen if you didn’t stay out of trouble? The only reason you’re even here is because my wife has a soft spot for children, and I happen to like her.”
My heart does a little somersault. He likes me? It’s a good start. But I don’t like the tone of this…
“You said you’d hurt me,” the boy says, his voice shaking. “And I was trying to stay out of trouble.”
He said he’d hurt him? When?
Oh no he did not!
Salvatore crouches in front of him, and the boy flinches. What reason has Salvatore given him to? Has he hurt him already? A chill runs down my spine. I cringe. “You call setting fire to the kitchen napkins staying out of trouble?” When the boy doesn’t answer, he reaches his hand out to him, and the boy flinches.
I’ve had enough.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, wandering in and yawning as if I’ve just woken up and stumbled out of bed. I don’t miss the way Salvatore’s eyes narrow on me. He isn’t falling for it.
“Get back in our room,” he snaps. “Now.”
Goddammit. A direct order. I either do what he says, or I don’t.
I know I risk getting in trouble with him. He’s made it very, very clear what he expects of me, and I know I’m pushing it, but right now I don’t care. Not when he’s on the cusp of hurting achild.
“I will,” I tell him, trying to appease him. “But it looks like you’re going to hurt an innocent child, and I won’t stand by and allow that to happen.” My heart races as I say this because I know this is not going over well. I lift my arm to the boy. “Come here.”
He quickly jerks out of Salvatore’s grasp and runs to me.
“Is it true about setting things on fire?” I ask.
The boy, who’s cleaned up since I last saw him, still has a rascally expression on his face which is not helped by a bucketload of freckles and an unruly cowlick.
“Well…” he begins, “I wouldn’t say it was onpurpose…”
I sigh. “You must not do something so dangerous again,” I say. “If you do, you could—”
But the next second, the boy is torn from my grasp and shoved into Salvatore’s guard’s arms. “Take him away. Put him to bed. I’ll deal with him tomorrow.” The slash of his scowl and dangerous eyes turn on me. “I’ll deal withyounow.”
Well that went well.
My cheeks flame with embarrassment as he drags me back to our room. The door slams. We don’t say a word. I open my mouth to protest, but he tosses a palm into the air to stop me.
Okay, so, he needs a minute. Whatever.
“Robe. Off.” He spits the words out as if they’re poison. “Strip.”
Noway.
“You want sexnow?No!” I’m so angry at him, I reach out to shove him, but he quickly grasps my wrists and twists my arms back. It doesn’t hurt, but I can’t get out of his grip either. I growl in frustration, so angry I could spit. I don’t care if he punishes me. I don’t care if he retaliates. He doesn’t get to belittle me like that and then get all heavy-handed with me.
“Fine, then,” he grates. “Have it your way.”
Overpowering me is laughably easy for him. All he has to do is hold me in one of his arms that are as big as tree trunks and restrain me while he yanks the robe’s belt with the other. I push and shove and protest, but it’s useless. The robe falls to the floor like discarded wrapping paper, and there’s nothing now that keeps me from him but the tee. I hardly process what’s going on until I find myself over his lap, my legs restrained under one of his, my hands pinned to the small of my back.
