Page 130 of Manacled Hearts

“You can’t ask this of me, Finnigan.”

“I don’t want to ask this of you; don’t you get it? I don’t even want to demand it, I want to take it. I want to tie you in my penthouse and give you no choice. That’s what I actually desire. Which is why I’m holding onto the ounce of self-control I have, and I’m asking you to give it a proper shot.”

She’s speechless, her lips parted in surprise as she takes in my words and underlying threat.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispers.

Maybe my glare is answer enough, because I swear there’s hope weaved through the shock in her gaze.

“Tell me you will do it, you’ll give it a chance. A good one. You’ve already built a life in Queenscove, Evelyn. There’s so much more for you here,” I add.

“I will give it a chance. I already am,” she finally agrees.

But there’s a little voice inside my head that mocks me. It knows what a man of my failures deserves, and it’s not a woman like Evelyn. I nod, pensive at the inner turmoil, recognizing the tinge of fear that’s been growing inside of me at the same pace as the attachment to this woman.

“I’ll grab the cake trays and your things. Get the gift bag, please.”

We exit the car simultaneously, but a moment later she’s by my side, taking one of the trays from me.

“I can handle it,” I argue.

“Me too.” She walks away with a strut, but not before cocking an eyebrow and giving me a look more sinful than it should be. I should move, but that damn skirt fluttering with her sway, distracts me. It’s not even that short, just above the knees, but knowing she wears thigh-high stockings underneath as well, I want to bend her over and sink into her warm, sweet cunt all over again. She looks like a rock goddess and I get all sorts of ideas of things I want to buy her. Latex bodysuit. Fishnet stockings to rip off. Leather harnesses to frame her waist, or her breasts…

“Coming?” she calls after me, and I have to rush to get to her.

Though, I don’t bother pretending to be unaffected by her. I probably should when we get inside. I have a feeling Maddox might demand my head for what I did with the violet-haired woman he’s started seeing as a sister. He warned me before to leave her alone, but I think he was thinking more of her emotional state.

She knocks on the door, but I slide in front of her and just open it and walk in.

“Vincent has cameras and sensors. They know we’re here.”

She shrugs and follows, but once we’re in, she’s looking somewhere behind me, apprehension in her gaze. I whip around at her slight distress.

“Cousin!” the dark-haired, broad-shouldered man exclaims as he comes toward us.

“Sloan, you’ve arrived,” I greet him, then Morrigan who arrives next to me and helps me with the tray I carry.

I hug my cousin, who left his crime empire for a few days to lend a hand with our Bartiste situation, then step aside to introduce him.

“Evelyn, this is Sloan Buchanan. Our cousin abandoned his hill up in Venator to assist us.”

“Your hill?” She looks curious, but a little flustered too. “Sorry, hi, nice to meet you.”

“It’s great to meet you, too. Though, I feel like I know you already, as I’ve had the pleasure to meet your sister,” Sloan greets her, his stance quite stern, but like always, there’s warmth in his eyes and tone. “And yes, my hill. The city of Venator is old. Back in the old days three fortresses were built on its three hills, and it created a bit of a… divide, let’s say. One of those hills—Alnit—is my territory.”

“Oh, what an interesting name. I know of Venator, but I never looked into its geography. It sounds… familiar,” she answers, curious now.

I know Evelyn hasn’t finished school after she had to give it all up to take care of her sister. It’s a bit of a sore subject with her, mostly because I think she sees it as a flaw, like she’s somehow worth less because of it. But I’ve also noticed her thirst for knowledge. Her sister may be a big fiction reader despite her fragile age, which I thoroughly enjoy. But my Evie has a curiosity like no other, always sifting through my books, and almost every time she chooses non-fiction. Anything from ancient writings to modern history. She never discusses it, though, and always drops the books when I come in the room. One day she’ll get over that insecurity, but I won’t rush her.

“It comes from Alnitak, one of the stars in Orion’s belt,” Sloan explains, a little pride in his voice at the interest Evelyn shows.

“That’s fascinating.” Her gaze drifts, and if I could crack her head open now, I swear I would see the cogs spinning, filing this information for further research. “I would love to hear more about it, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to finish the cupcakes for the birthday boy.” She nods to us, her gaze lingering a few moments longer on me, then walks away.

I don’t realize I’m still staring after her until Sloan speaks.

“It’s good to see you interested again.”

I turn to him, mouth open ready to bite back, but I have nothing. I can’t deny it, but I feel like I have to say something to clarify.

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