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That’s not all I did with it. Like a master observing the chessboard, planning his next moves, I studied every damn thing I could find in her phone to give me the advantage. “Yup. She understands, by the way. After you were nearly robbed… you can go back anytime you want. You won’t, of course. As mine, you’ll never have to work again.”
Her pretty hazel eyes dip down. She nibbles on her bottom lip, thinking hard.
She lifts her chin. “My apartment—”
Nice try, angel.
“I already paid the rent.” Next month’s, too. Angela will want her belongings, and I have fond memories of that place. She’ll never live there again, but I’ve spent many nights fantasizing about taking her up against the window, showing all of Springfield—my territory—who she belongs to. Once I don’t have to keep her against her will, I want to do just that… and I fucking hope Dean Willows gets a front row seat to what he can never have. “For as long as you’re with me, you don’t have to worry about having a roof over your head.”
So… forever, basically.
I can see the gears whirring in that brain of hers. “But… why?”
I’ve been waiting for this question. Too bad she’s not ready for the real answer. Angela is still clinging to this idea that I’m doing this to hurt her or some ridiculous shit like that. Until she understands just how devoted I am, I can’t let her see the depths that I’m willing to go to keep her.
So, instead of telling her the truth, I tell heratruth.
“Why? Because I wanted to see this hair spilled on my pillow.” I pick up a strand of the light brown mass of wavy hair flattened from her drugged sleep, tucking it behind her ear. “Your hair is so fucking pretty.”
Angela’s expression is mixed. There’s fear there—as unavoidable as it is—and suspicion, which I also get. She’s not used to a gentle touch, and I’m not any better. I couldn’t help it, though. When she screamed earlier this afternoon… when she acted like being here with me wasn’t what she wanted… I was rougher than I should’ve been.
I make up for it now with a soft stroke under her chin as I tilt her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze as I tell her honestly, “It’ll be even prettier once I fuck it wild.”
7
ANGELA
His touch is so gentle.
His words? They’re the opposite.
All day long I obsessed over what I was doing here. Before he left me to go to work, Burns gave me the use of my legs. After he was gone, I immediately ran up the stairs, checking to see if I was locked in. Of course I was. He went through a lot of trouble to take me, to put me in this basement cell of his, and he wasn’t going to risk me escaping so soon.
I’m not tall enough to reach the high window. Even if I could, the bars make it useless. The gaps between them are so tiny, I could maybe reach a couple of fingers through—maybe. No one can see me, no one can hear me, and I was left alone in the room with my thoughts, the humming fridge, and the book.
A Gardener’s Guide to Botany.
How the hell did he know? Just because I worked in a florist shop didn’t mean that I was into his flowers. Iam—I always wanted to be a botanist—buthow did he know?
I couldn’t look at it. Just like I couldn’t bring myself to eat any of his food. The second I got curious enough to pop the door open on the fridge and saw it was full of things I actually liked, I was too freaked out to even have any.
He made me eat the candy bar. Big mistake. My stomach is roiling now with the realization that my suspicions are right. For whatever reason Burns chose me, he wants sex.
No. He wants tofuckme.
“I… you can’t.”
“Can’t I?” His gaze dips down to his crotch, a wicked smile curving his lips. “If you welcomed me right now, I’d show you just how wrong you are.”
Without meaning to, I follow the path of his steely blue eyes. The cut of his uniform pants does little to hide the erection he’s sporting behind them. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not. Then do tell, angel.”
He’s mocking me. Teasing me. He can stroke me gently, then say something filthy, leaving me off balance though he’s made his intentions clear.
If he knows anything about me at all, he’d know that taking my choice away… I’ll never forgive him. I’ll never get over it.
Like what happened to Carter, it’ll break me. Only, with Burns, because I trusted him—because I desperately wanted to trust his badge—it would shatter me.
