Page 8 of Filthy Devil

He balls his hands into fists at his sides, and I wonder if he’s angry, but I don’t ask him. I wait in silence for him to continue. “Nash Stanley.”

God.

What a freaking great name.

He doesn’t say anything else. Nothing else needs to be said, I guess. Instead, he reaches for my hand, wraps his fingers aroundmine, and turns toward the building, tugging me behind him. I don’t have any other choice but to follow.

When we approach the building, he digs into his pocket, producing a key. He shoves it in the door, twisting it before he pulls it open. We continue moving forward, and I watch as he makes his way over to an alarm panel, punches a few buttons, and then turns toward me.

“Lock the door, yeah?”

Slowly, I approach the door. I think about opening it and running away but then decide against that. He may be a few years older than me, but he’s no slouch. I felt his muscles when my arms were wrapped around him. This is a man who is still very active and fit. He’d catch me in a minute.

Flipping the lock, I turn around to face him, but I don’t move. He arches a brow, watching me as he waits for me to move toward him again. I don’t. I’m stubborn, but right now, it’s beyond that.

I’m not just stubborn.

I’m scared.

Nothing has been explained to me. I don’t even know why he took me and nobody else off that trailer.

I don’t know anything.

“Let’s go, James. I’m beat to fuck.”

He does sound tired. Hesitantly, I take a step toward him, then another. Instead of reaching for my hand this time, he turns and starts to walk through the building. I hate that. I can’t help but feel rejected. I want him to touch my hand. I want to feel his warm, strong fingers holding me.

I don’t take in my surroundings. I don’t think I care. This isn’t going to be my home. I refuse. I will do whatever it takes to get out of this, whateverthisis. I’m not going to just accept the fate I stupidly agreed to.

Now that things have changed and shifted, I’m going to do everything I can to gain my freedom.

Because let’s be real, I may have signed my life away on the dotted line… but it wasn’t to this guy, and I’m going to assume that my contract is null and void. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.

Freedom is in my grasp. My mistake will be fixed, and I’m going to figure out the rest of my life. Nash stops at a doorway at the end of the hallway. I watch as he opens the door and walks inside, and when I follow behind him, I see the bed.

That bed calls to me, so before I try to figure out how to get out of this, I need a good night’s sleep.

I can conquer the world tomorrow.

NASH

Stepping into the small apartment,I am met with the realization that this isn’t suited for a permanent living situation.

The kitchenette doesn’t even have an oven. This space is more like a hotel room than an apartment. We put two of these in here in case one of us needed to spend the night for whatever reason.

I know that Bugsy fucks a couple of the girls in the other room. But this one is mine, and I haven’t even slept in it, let alone fucked anyone in it. James walks over to the bed, and I watch her fingertips glide along the black comforter.

She stops, then spins around to face me. I can read the confusion clearly etched on her face. I haven’t explained shit, and to be honest, at this point, I’m not sure how to answer anything. Her bio parents are dead. Her grandparents thinkshe’s run away, and she sold herself into something she didn’t want any part of.

Now she’s mine—or rather, I’ve taken responsibility for her. To keep her safe. But right this moment, all I want to do is strip her out of her clothes, lay her down on the bed, and fuck her. And I have no goddamn reason to do that. Not now, not ever. She’s way too young for me, and I need to keep reminding myself of that.

“What is going to happen to me?” she asks, her voice smaller than I’ve heard.

James is strong as fuck, so seeing this moment of vulnerability causes me to be taken aback, but only for a moment. In the same breath, it is a stark reminder that she’s young, scared, and went in way over her fucking head when she signed that agreement.

“You’re going to take a shower, get some sleep, and tomorrow, we’ll go over your future.”

“My future,” she murmurs, her gaze flicking over to the bed. Her eyes swing back to meet my own, and she takes a step forward. “What if I don’t want to discuss anything?”

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