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Not feeling so sure now, are you, Sasha.
She takes a few tentative steps toward the stairs that lead down a short path to the pool. I close the door behind us and follow her, keeping a few feet between us. Allowing her the false notion that I’m not worried she will leave.
Which is the understatement of the year. I hope she does. I welcome it.
I want her sequestered in my room. Completely at my mercy.
Imagining her spread out on my bed, ready and eager for all I have to give, has my dick growing in my pants. I’m so engrossed in the fantasy that I allow her to get quite a bit ahead of me. She’s no longer in my view.
Picking up my pace, I take the bend that leads toward the pool, and in the distance, I hear sounds. I’m practically jogging when I’m able to make out voices. Sasha’s and a man…
Who’s talking to her? All of my men—
Fuck.
Not all of my men have been warned about keeping their distance. Today, a few of the guys rotate in. One, in particular, is newer and outside doing the rounds. He was here when she arrived, but I never got to speak to him. He wasn’t brought up to speed on our guest.
When I make it to them, Sean, the asshole, is standing way too close. He’s leaning down toward her, a predatory fucking smile plastered all over his smarmy face. His arm lifts, and his hand touches her cheek.
I lose my shit.
All I see is red.
My hands are fisted by my sides as I stalk forward like a panther. Before Sean knows what’s happening, I attack. My fingers wrap around his throat, and I squeeze with so much force I’m lucky I didn’t crush his larynx.
Sean gags, and his eyes are wide. He’s panicking. Good.
“You don’t look at her. Do you fucking understand?” His lips are turning purple as his hands try and fail to disengage mine. “Touch her again, and you will die. Keep your head down and hands away.” His eyes roll back into his head, and I know I only have seconds before he loses consciousness—or worse. “Do you understand?”
He tries to bob his head, but with my grip on him, it’s more like a twitch.
I drop him, satisfied that everyone will now know, without a shadow of a doubt, where I stand on this matter.
No one touches Sasha.
No one but me.
I take Sasha by the arm and drag her back into the house. It’s not her fault, but my mood is soured, and I need to get away from Sean before I decide to finish him.
“I…wait—” she says, but I cut her off abruptly.
My rage is barely contained. I’m a boiling pot of water about to burst over the edge.
“The tour will have to continue another time, Sasha.” I continue to pull, never stopping or looking at her.
She jerks hard, trying to get out of my hold, so I grip her harder.
“Gideon, stop,” she bellows. “You’re hurting me.”
This gets my attention, and I come to a halt, loosening my grip and turning toward her. She rubs at her wrist, and I see the angry red marks I caused.
Shit.
I run my hands back through my hair, trying to calm down further.
“Listen…I’m sorry. I just wanted to get you to safety,” I say, and her eyes narrow.
“From your men? Isn’t that why I’m here? Because it’s safe?”
