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My phone lights up again.
Move. Now.
TWELVE
JAC
The banging stops, but the thunder keeps going.
I jump out of bed and pull on my robe, grabbing my gun.
My people don’t fucking bang like savages on the front door at four something in the fucking morning. No one does.
I take off down the stairs and stop when I hit the bottom step. There, across the gray stone of the foyer’s floor, in a growing black puddle, is an angry, soaked world-class jewel thief.
And I mean fucking soaked.
The white shirt she’s wearing—Hendrick’s, it’s totally his boring fucking brand—is see-through and she’s naked under it.
One of his ties is hanging around her neck. She’s in stockings that are ripped to shreds and in one hand is a pair of high, expensive heels, the other a sopping wet envelope and a small black case.
She looks like a drowned fucking call girl.
And my dick gets hard.
Because when I say see-through, I mean more than fucking see-through. It’s a whole thing. The buttons of the shirt are mismatched to the button holes and the white shirt tails are sticking to her thighs. Her beautiful cunt peeks through and the shirt’s sticking to her breasts, nipples erect.
My gun’s pointed right at her heart.
“I like dinner a little earlier and less waterlogged, but hey,” I say. “I’ll take it. Turned down the offer of sex tonight.”
“Good for you,” she says, dripping in loathing. “But I’m not here to fuck you.”
I run my gaze over her as a noise grabs my attention from the direction of the kitchen. I know who it is, so I don’t lift my gaze from MG, nor my gun. “I’m busy.”
Carlos clears his throat. “I see that. Need help?”
“No, I don’t need help, Carlos. If I decide you can have her, you’ll be the first to know.”
Her eyes widen as it registers who I’m talking to and what I’ve told her. But there isn’t fear. Just disgust. Aimed at me.
“Not what I meant,” Carlos says, his tone even, and as close as he gets to chastising me. “She broke in.”
Her gaze swings to me.
“I fucking know. Well, she broke into the grounds. She knocked.”
“She,” MG snarls, “can hear you.”
I ignore her. “Make sure the alarm’s off. I don’t need a swarm of guards hitting the house.”
“Already done. Sir,” Carlos says.
I almost smile at that, except MG being here isn’t a happy moment.
Especially as she’s in Hendrick’s clothes and nothing else.
She’s covered in more tiny bruises, the stubble burn on her face a real fuck you. I’m paying for her. Not him.
