Page 37 of Corrupted

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“If they wanted anyone to know, they wouldn’t have done it anonymously.”

I hug him tighter as we walk. “I’m thinking it was Santa.”

He laughs. “No such thing as Santa, Londyn.”

“I beg to differ,” I tell him. “Santa brings joy and that’s what he did here.” I grin up at him. “Hey, maybe if I’m good, I’ll make the Nice List and Santa will bring me something, too.”

He smirks at me. “I think after last night, you’re on the Naughty List. No worries though. I might not be Santa, but later tonight, I’m going to bring you all kinds of joy.”



I STAND OUTSIDE the door as Londyn works on her sketches, going back and forth from her drawing to her fabric. She studies the designs, examines the fabric and lays it out this way and that, as her brilliant mind races through ideas. Honestly the fashion industry needs her as much as she needs it.

I love seeing her like this, lost in her work. For the last week, after our trip to the manufacturing store, she’s been sneaking in here every spare moment and working all hours. But I’m not complaining; after every piece she makes, she models it for me, and after I give my opinion, I then help her out of the outfit and straight into my bed. It’s been one hell of an amazing week, and I have to say I’m finding myself in a place I swore I wouldn’t go.

A small grin curls up the corners of her mouth. “Can I help you?” she asks.

“Yes, we’re going out to dinner.” I push off the door. “You’ve been cooped up in here too long.”

She smiles up at me. “That actually sounds like a great idea.” She drops her pencil and I step farther into the room. I flip through her sketch pad.

“These are fantastic.”

She nibbles her bottom lip, her gaze darting between me and the sketches. “You don’t think they’re silly, or that I’m silly trying to pursue a career in fashion?”

I frown, and pull her into my arms. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

She rests her head on my chest. “You know why.” she says, her voice muffled in my shirt.

“Actually, I don’t.” I’m about to press, when her cell phone rings. Her head lifts, and her eyes go wide. This isn’t the first time she’s ignored whoever is calling. “Come on, let’s get changed and out of here,” I say, desperate to protect her from whatever, or whoever, is filling her with anxiety.

She nods in agreement, and follows me to the master suite. She moved her meager wardrobe in here a few days ago, and she’s yet to take me up on my offer to go shopping, buy whatever she wants. She slips into a sexy little black cocktail dress, followed by a pair of heels. I pull on a suit and tie, and we head to the front door where we put on our coats.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asks.

I laugh at that. “Do you really have to ask?” I say. This woman has turned me into a hormonal teen without even trying, so what I’m always in the mood for is sex. No matter how many times I’ve claimed her, I can’t seem to get enough.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

I tug her to me, and my lips graze over hers. “What, don’t you want that, too?”

“Oh, I do. As a matter of fact, I have a new outfit to put on for you tonight.”

“It’s nice how our interests work so well together.” She gives me a strange look. “You know, you like putting clothes on, and I like taking them off you.”

She laughs at that and gives me a small shove. “Come on, let’s go or we’ll never get out of here.” I lock up and we head toward my car. “How about we walk?” she suggests.

I look her over. “You’re in heels.”

“I can’t get anything by you, can I?”

“Smart-ass.” She chuckles as I scan her face. Her smile is genuinely happy, and she’s far more relaxed than she was when I first brought her here. “Will you be warm enough?”

She gives me a grateful smile and my heart squeezes. She’s a strong, independent woman who likes it when I care for her. “I am,” she says and slides her arm around mine. We head toward the downtown core and she takes a big breath and exhales slowly.

“I love it here, Cason.”

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