Page 108 of Arran's Obsession

Soon enough, we were through to the centre of town and on the west side, following the river. The warehouse sat on the banks, a queue of what looked like students on the walkway outside of Divide and the usual stream of men entering Divine, the black-and-pink signs a homecoming now.

The place loomed big, like it had the right to judge me for harming its master.

Jamieson parked, then there was nothing for it but to wait. He didn’t suggest going inside, and I didn’t budge. Time passed. I checked my phone over and over, tried and failed to play my alphabet game to make the minutes go by faster.

After God knew how long, Jamieson lifted his phone. Waggled it.

I grabbed it and put it to my ear. “Arran?”

“Maniac.”

I slapped my hand over my mouth, his warm tones so familiar. Soloved. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing a negotiation couldn’t handle.”

I slumped, my heart pounding. “I pictured you riddled with bullet holes.”

“Wishful thinking?” At my lack of an answer, he continued, a dangerous edge to his voice. “We’re on our way back.”

“I’m waiting outside.”

“I know. Be ready.” He disconnected.

I handed the phone back to Jamieson, unable to speak until Arran’s car appeared on the approach road then spun into his spot, Shade right behind. I leapt out to lurch for his door, but he was already out.

Blood stained his face, a spatter on his shirt. God.

“Are you hurt?” I gasped.

“Not my blood, baby. Now get inside so I can teach you a lesson about knowing your place.”

My breathing hitched, fight or flight kicking in. He wasfurious. I stepped back but he was faster. Arran grabbed me, throwing me over his shoulder, then marched to the club.

I thumped his back. “Let me go.”

“Not until I’ve fucked some sense into you.”

A laugh came from nearby and I hid my face, humiliation rising with my temperature. Thank God I was in leggings and not flashing my ass to everyone watching. Then we were indoors and outside the lift. It arrived, and Arran strode in.

I caught a glimpse of his expression in the mirror, something powerful stamped across his features. Desperate, aggressive need. I knew because I felt it, too.

He put me down, and I centred myself while he stabbed the button for floor three. The brothel.

“Listen.”

“No. It’s better for both of us if you don’t speak.” With controlled moves, he pulled a piece of material from his pocket. A skeleton bandanna.

I’d barely taken a breath when it was tugged over my head and covering my eyes.

The lift doors opened again and I was back over his shoulder and being carried down the hall.

“Everyone out,” Arran roared.

Faint sounds came, people presumably leaving, but my thrumming pulse in my ears and the darkness around my senses took over my thoughts.

I’d scared him tonight. I’d scared myself, too. He needed to work out those feelings for both of our sakes.

Somewhere deep in the brothel, Arran stopped and set me down, the soft carpet giving under my All Stars. With purposeful moves, he wrenched my shoes, socks, and leggings off me. My jacket and top followed, leaving me in just my underwear.

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