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I blink away my tears, needing a good, long look at this man I never really knew at all. Mustering my courage, I force my eyes open.
Oh. My. God.
His face. His ridiculously handsome face. His pale blue eyes, perfect nose, cupid’s bow lips … brutalized.
Two yellow-and-black-ringed eyes. Bandaged broken nose. Swollen lips. My gaze drops to his body, but he’s fully clothed, wearing a suit, so it’s impossible to assess the damage.
He looks like a monster.
My eyes flash wide. “What happened?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
His distrust infuriates me and destroys any sympathy I might have.
He hoists himself off me, then drags me to my feet.
“Follow me. And if you run, I’ll lock you in a cage like a dog.”
Our eyes meet briefly, his irises a startling pale blue against the bruising. Another wave of sympathy washes over me, but I force it back. He’d lock me inside a cage in a heartbeat, wouldn’t he? Close the door, toss away the key, then make me beg to be released.
With a firm tug of my hand, he sends me stumbling forward.
“Wait.”
His bruised lips draw tight.
“I need to fix the sheet around my body.” Heat warms my body, and for the slightest second, he softens. Like he’s about to tease me for being shy. But then everything hardens as he rakes his eyes over my nakedness. The days when he delighted in my innocence are over.
“Leave it.”
I swallow hard and contemplate disobeying him. But I’m alive. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll recognize his mistake.
CHAPTER TEN
Sandro charges by two brunettes wearing white uniforms. I’m trailing behind him, so only I witness their confusion while they partake in my complete mortification. My skin is on fire by the time we reach his office.
He smirks wickedly, reveling in it.
I’m pushed none too gently onto an oddly shaped chaise and sent sprawling backward. I quickly recover and right myself, while Sandro leans against his desk and picks up the phone.
“What a weirdly shaped chair,” I murmur. If you lie down, your head would be angled back and your knees arched over a bump.
He flashes me a familiar look. Like he has a dirty secret designed specifically for corrupting me. But he recovers, probably remembering how he hates me.
“Bring the package, and a uniform,” he says to someone over the phone.
Oh no. A visitor? I fold my hands over my lap to cover myself.
His lips curl, then he winces. So do I, because I can feel his hurt from across the room. My stomach knots as he lightly touches the damaged skin. “What happened?”
He narrows swollen eyes at me. “You tell me.”
“You seriously believe I have something to do with someone brutally beating you—”
“Not someone. Four men.”
“Four men did that to you?” I cry out. “But why?”
