Page 4 of Sinfully His

“You will let the girl go, and you will run.” The threat was clear in my voice, and as I watched his eyes widen, I knew he would do something stupid.

The stupid ones never disappointed.

He turned, still gripping her, whipping her around straight into another dumpster. She crumpled, and he let her go as he ran away like the little coward he was.

I walked over and sure enough, little Rose Astrid, the delicate flower of the Astrid family, was lying on top of a trash bag piled next to the dumpster. A lump was forming on her temple, and a few fingerprint-shaped bruises were on her neck and jaw.

Her emerald-green eyes blinked up at me before she passed out.

Of course she did.

I rolled my eyes and bent down to pick her up, grateful the bag she landed on wasn’t filled with dirty diapers or worse.

She was so much lighter than she should have been. She wasn’t particularly short, about average height for a woman, but she felt so small and frail in my arms.

I carried her out of the alley and through a hidden back door. Down the dark back hallways to my private sanctuary. At some point, she woke up. She said nothing, but her body stiffened as I brought her into one of my favorite rooms. The library was quiet, comfortable, lavishly decorated, and, best of all, forgotten about. No one would be disturbing us here.

I set her on the overstuffed leather couch and went to light a candle.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said, her words timid, like she feared I would scold her for being attacked.

No doubt her harpy mother would do just that. Screaming and wailing that she was battered and bruised. Not out of any concern for her, but for what people would say. And how would she look in photos?

The scandal would be the talk of the town, as if Mary Quinn’s recent behavior didn’t set enough tongues wagging.

I gave her a tight smile and looked her up and down, slowly taking in the sweaterdress that clung to her delicate curves. I would never understand why women starved themselves to be so rail thin.

It couldn’t be to please a man. Still, I could see how her curves were determined to give her some shape, even if she starved them. She couldn’t starve her full breasts away, or the curve of her hips.

She continued to mumble her gratitude or apologies. I wasn’t really listening, anyway. I cleared my throat to get her attention. Her brilliant green eyes flickered up, meeting mine, and just as quickly went back to the ground, waiting for me to say something.

“Take your clothes off.”

CHAPTER 3

ROSE

He couldn’t be serious.

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

When I told him I would do anything to pay for his act of valor, I meant I would give him money or make a dinner reservation somewhere no one could get into. None of the things I had in mind involved nudity.

Of course, he wanted more. I saw him. I saw the way he fought with those men. Gentlemen didn’t fight like that. He must have been some kind of criminal. Who else could fight off four men? Who else would be in an alleyway like that? Just waiting for someone to fall into their trap.

I was out of the frying pan and into the fire.

My mind flashed back to all the true crime stories that a few girls at Columbia used to be obsessed with. They were fascinated by the stories involving women’s bodies being found beaten, with all sorts of horrible things having been done to them before that, and we were all hooked on the drama. The conversations afterward were thrilling, as we speculated who had done it and what we would do in that situation. It had always filled our group with this buzzing terror, horror, and false excitement, and I ateup the energy, everyone talking about how we were too smart, too prepared to let ourselves fall into that kind of situation.

I said I would never be caught alone, unarmed at night in a dark alley, but if I was, I would fight.

All of us had said that. We wouldn’t be like them. We wouldn’t be the victims of some crazed lunatic.

Now, in that same situation, the one I said I would never be in? I wasn’t fighting. I was frozen in fear. In a few years, my case would go cold and end up on someone’s podcast while their listeners said they would never be so stupid.

Fuck.

If there was ever a time that word was warranted, it was now.

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