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“What?”
He slides a folded piece of paper my way and I snap, “What’s this?”
“Read it.”
He appears concerned and the words swim before my disbelieving eyes.
Thanks for the offer, sir, but I would like to consider my options before I make my decision. I will give you my answer tomorrow.
“Is this for real?”
I stare at Saint in shock and his smirk doesn’t help my temper.
“What!” I yell and he shrugs.
“She’s not as naive as she looks.”
“You think?” I shake my head with a scowl fixed firmly on my face.
“The girl’s a fool. A misguided, clueless country hick who doesn’t understand what her options are. I’m almost tempted to withdraw my offer and throw her to Gabriella to ruin for me.”
I thump my fist down hard on the desk and yell, “Fucking options. I’ll give her options. Does she realize the only other option is fucking guys for money? Is she so stupid she doesn’t see that?”
I start to pace, so angry I can’t think straight, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to instruct Saint to take her to my mansion and lock her up until I am of the right mind to deal with her.
Saint is my bodyguard for a very good reason because he is the only person outside of family who can speak the truth to me, no matter how much it angers me.
“Think about it.”
He drops into the chair before my desk and leans back, staring at me with a calculating expression.
“You’ve met the girl. She’s awash with innocence. She hasn’t got a fucking clue the mess she’s in and I’m guessing as soon as the penny drops and she realizes exactly what her shiny new job involves, she’ll be beating a trail to your door and hammering on it with both fists. Let Gabriella terrify her first, and then you will have a broken angel to play with. I’m guessing she’ll be a lot more grateful for the opportunity then.”
Let Gabriella terrify her first.
Why don’t I like the idea of that? Picturing her soft expression and trusting eyes. The innocent edge to her words and the curiosity in her expression makes me want to preserve it forever because I have never met the like of her before.
Do I want to allow her innocence to be crushed with the prick of a needle, drugging her into acceptance?
Do I want her innocence torn from her body by a man with no regard for her feelings?
Do I want her to be passed around like a rag doll at a party with drugs and orgies just to prove a point?
Like fucking hell I do, so I snarl, “Follow them. When Gabriella leaves, head inside and drag that woman out and take her to my mansion. Against her will, if necessary, just make certain no one touches what’s mine.”
His sharp look makes me consider the words that just told him how weak I already am around her.
Mine.
Since when was she mine?
Since when did I want her to be?
I don’t claim women as mine – ever. Any woman I’ve fucked has been around the block enough times to make them dizzy. It’s my rule. It keeps emotion from my door because I owe them nothing they don’t already know about. They expect nothing but a depraved fuck and a fistful of dollars and we both leave happy.
Mine.
Since when did she become mine?
