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I keep my hands clenched tightly together on my lap so I’m not tempted to reach across the console and touch him. It’s a struggle.

Finally.

Finally, he pulls into my driveway. I’m so distracted by my desire that I don’t notice the package on my stoop until Jasper curses.

“Fuck,” he growls again.

My heart thuds painfully in my chest, and my anxiety ramps up at the sight of the seemingly harmless white box on my porch.

“Wait here,” he commands.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I can’t even feel my legs because of how panicked I’m feeling right now. Staying put isn’t a problem. I watch as he picks up the package. A jolt of worry shoots through me because it could be something dangerous, and Jasper is just picking it up like it’s nothing.

He looks inside the box then tosses it back to the ground.

He storms to my door and yanks it open. He looks positively feral in his anger. Despite that, my anxiety instantly lessens with him being near.

“Come on,” he growls, helping me out of the car.

“What is it?” I ask cautiously.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can’t stand it. I’m an adult. I can handle whatever it is.”

He picks up the box and thrusts it toward me. I lift the lid and gasp in horror. It’s lingerie and not the sexy kind I might wear to the club. This is the kind you’d see on a stripper at a seedy strip club. I lift the note and cringe when I read the hateful words.

You want to spread your legs like a whore, then I’ll dress you like one.

You will be mine.

I drop the box and the note and let out a fearful whimper. Now understanding why Jasper would’ve tried to protect me from that.

Jasper has taken the seconds I was distracted by the contents of the box to open the front door. He wraps his arm around me and leads me inside.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Jasper

I’m fucking livid.Not at the “gift” and note, but at myself. I never should’ve suggested a fake relationship, and now she’s my very real, very vulnerable girlfriend. This asshole shouldn’t be able to touch her, and yet here he is threatening what’s mine.

I never should’ve let myself get distracted by her. It’s unprofessional, and I should be ashamed. I should be, but I’m not. It’s too damn late now. The damage is done. All I can do now is protect her and keep her safe from the scumbag who thinks he owns what I’ve already claimed.

After I shut and lock the door, arming the alarm, I pick Charity up and carry her to the couch. I sit with her in my lap and cradle her close. She is shaking like a leaf. It tears at my heart. I want to claw it out of my chest and hand it to her on a silver platter. Anything to make her feel better.

“It’s going to be okay. I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I just don’t understand why this is happening. How is this even happening to me?”

“Because men like Dima Sokolov don’t think like you and me. He takes what he wants without a care as to who he might hurt or what the other person involved might want. To him, you aren’t a person. You are property and he feels like you’ve been taken from him.”

“But I’m not his. Not now, not ever,” she says vehemently.

“No, babygirl, you’re not his. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe.”

She cuddles closer, wrapping her arms around my neck and resting her head on my shoulder. Her shaking subsides, and just when I think she might’ve dozed off, she shifts on my lap. She lightly kisses the side of my neck.

“Babygirl, what are you doing?” I ask on a groan.

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