Page 41 of Savage Redemption

“Yes to the first, but no to the rest. I did not rape you. You had a choice. Always.”

“What choice?” I moan. “I was scared for my life.”

“Were you?” He seems genuinely surprised. “I never threatened you. I was never violent, not with you at least. And yes, I wanted you in my bed, but I never forced you to be there. I… I cared about you.”

“You cared about having a slave, someone at your beck and call.”

“It was not like that,” he protests.

I swing back to confront him. “Would you have let me go? Ever?”

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “You never asked me.”

“Is that meant to be some sort of defence? A justification for what you did?”

He has the grace to wince. “No, not entirely, I accept that. You were badly treated, abused, and yes, you were raped. Before, earlier, but not by me. I would not do that.”

Oddly, at my heart, I believe him. Admittedly, by then, my standards were pretty low, but he did treat me decently. I was a prisoner, but I wasn’t ill-treated by Adan, not in the great scale of things.

He continues. “I truly did care about you. I enjoyed having you with me…”

“I bet you did. What man wouldn’t enjoy having a helpless female to use as he liked?”

“Rosa, I?—”

“Rosie!” I yell my name at him. “I’mRosie.”

“Rosie. I apologise.” He raises his hands, palms out, and backs off. “I genuinely do only want to talk. Nothing more. I needed to know you are well, and safe. Both of you.”

“Well, it took you long enough if you’re really so concerned. And you can see that we are. No thanks to you.”

“Not entirely true,querida. My prolonged absence is whatkeptyou safe.”

He appears sincere. He really believes this weird tale. “That’s crazy. I’m here hiding from you.”

“You are in no danger from me. You never were.”

“But—”

“Why would you think that?” His tone has softened. “Who told you to fear me?”

“Mr Kaminski, and Mr Bartosz. They told my dad that you knew about Erin and wanted to snatch her.”

“Why would I do that? I’m her father. I want to be in her life. But snatch her? Take her from her mother, her home? No, I would not do that. Why would you think it?”

“Because… that’s what you do. Men like you, who want their own way.”

“Men like me? You mean, men like Savage? Or your father?”

“They’re not like you,” I insist. “My dad is… honest. Kind.”

He inclines his chin again, in partial agreement. “Very well, not your father, exactly. But Savage and me? We’re cut from the same cloth. Do you imaginehimabducting a baby?”

Of course not! He’s a good father.”

He remains silent, lets me arrive at the inevitable conclusion.

I resort to pleading. “Please, don’t take her.”

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