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I didn’t want anyone to know my secret, and I certainly didn’t want Jayden Wynter to know. He was an enemy of my family, and if he held something over me, he’d hold it over them, too.
I glanced away, filled with shame. “No. I don’t have anyone.”
I did, but no one I could trust not to say anything to my father or brothers. That was the trouble with coming from a powerful family—they had the ability to either buy out or threaten anybody.
When I’d been only six years old and at a new school, I’d made a friend right away. I’d been so happy to have someone who really seemed to like me, but then, years later, she’d told me that she’d only been nice to me that day because her father had told her she had to be or she wouldn’t be getting any treats or pocket money. Even though I’d only been a child, I remembered sharply the betrayal I’d felt at that knowledge, the sense of how I couldn’t even trust the people who’d told me they were my friends. And as the years had gone on, my suspicion of others had only increased, as had my belief that no one would ever actually care for me simply for whoIwas and not because of my surname.
I loved my two brothers and my father, but their love came with expectations. They were hard, violent men—just like the one standing in front of me now. Their protectiveness no longer felt like protectiveness. It felt like ownership. I wanted to live my own life outside of the umbrella of being a Gilligan, but how could I?
I hugged his jacket closer and tried not to inhale the scent of his cologne.
I studied his face, the full lips, the dark eyelashes, the cheekbones. It was unfair that someone like Jayden Wynter could look like that. He was like a beautiful but poisonous flower, luring you in only to leave you with a rash and a stomachache. I found myself smiling at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing. I was just thinking how men like you aren’t good for a girl’s health.”
“Men like me? You mean the one who just stopped you getting gangbanged by those pricks.”
I bit my lower lip. Would it have gone that far? Maybe. I shuddered at the thought.
“So, what am I supposed to do with you now?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll go and get a hotel room for the night.”
“Won’t your family wonder where you are?”
“They don’t even know I’m out. They’ll think I’m tucked up in bed like a good little girl.”
“A good little girl,” he repeated. His tongue flicked across his lower lip. “Right.”
My skin prickled with goosebumps at his words, a strange rush I hadn’t experienced before going through me. I sucked in a breath, a part of me wanting him to say that again.
Good little girl.
I shook the thought from my head. What the fuck was wrong with me? After what I’d just gone through, that was the last thing I should be thinking. Maybe it was a reaction to trauma. Everyone was different.
His eyes had darkened with hunger, and I pulled the jacket tighter around my body.
I glanced around for my bag. “Oh shit.”
“What?”
“Those fuckers took my bag.”
Lines appeared between his thick, dark eyebrows. “Are you sure? I didn’t see them with anything.”
“It’s a little clutch bag. It only had my phone, keys, and my credit card. How can I get a hotel now?”
“I’ll pay,” he offered.
“Why would you do that?” I eyed him suspiciously. Everyone knew Jayden Wynter had no love for the Gilligans. Word on the street was that he blamed us for his father’s death. Maybe wewerethe ones to blame. It wasn’t as though my father or brothers would have confided in me.
“You know where I live, right?” he checked.
I did.
“Oh, right. You meanyourhotel?”
