Page 65 of Sophia, Property of Tracker

Frowning, I ask. “What do you mean?”

“You two were in bed, and I have to say it sounds like youdidenjoy yourself. But what if I told you I could do better?”

Am I hearing right?

Is he offering to sleep with me?

“I’m sorry. I think you have got me all wrong.”

I turn to leave, but he captures my arm. “I mean it, Sophia. You are a very beautiful woman, and I want to show you what a real man feels like in bed.”

“Please let go of my arm,” I demand, pulling it away from his grasp.

He does, and as soon as I’m free, I walk up the beach and back to our room. I turn to close the glass doors but find he’s no longer there.

Did that just happen?

Feeling dirty and invaded, I shut the curtains and sit down in bed with my knees bent.

Ryan stirs and wakes, and in a sleepy voice, he says, “Hey, baby, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

But when I don’t reply, he bolts upright and pulls my blonde hair to the side, running his fingers down my back. “Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” I say softly, looking everywhere except at him.

He lifts me from the bed and places me on his lap. “What’s wrong? Something is up?”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I look up at him.

“Hey… you can tell me anything.” Wiping away my tears with his thumb, I try and explain what happened. Finally, on a choked voice, I say, “I… I got up and wanted to test the water. So I went down to the beach…” Taking a breath, Ryan encourages me to continue, “Go on.”

“I’m there minding my own business when that man from yesterday turns up out of nowhere.”

Ryan is in his own thoughts, and I see a lightbulb moment when it hits him. Clenching his jaw, he asks, “Was it the gardener?”

Nodding, I look down at my lap and fidget with my fingers.

“What did he do to you?” He growls, feeling his body underneath mine vibrate with anger.

Covering my face with my hands, Ryan asks, “Sophia, did he touch you? What did he do? I’ll kill him.” He shifts me off the bed and stands, looking around the room. “Fuck, where are my jeans?”

“Stop!” I yell.

But he doesn’t listen. Instead, he picks up his jeans from the floor and pulls them on, zipping them up, not bothering with his button. He grabs a T-shirt from his bag and throws it on then storms toward the door.

“Please stop,” I beg.

Turning, he takes some deep breaths, and I can tell he’s trying to calm himself, but it doesn’t look like it’s working. He’s pissed and has murderous intent on his face.

“Sophia, you better tell me what the fuck’s going on because the shit that’s playing in my head right now is some bad shit, so you better make it clear for me.”

“He didn’t touch me. Well, he grabbed my arm, but that’s it.”

“That’s all I need to know. I’m going to fuckin’ kill him.” He reaches for the curtains, shoves them open then exits the sliding door, storming outside.

Panic fills me, and I begin to cry uncontrollably.

Ten minutes pass before Ryan’s back in the room, anger still visible in his features. From the looks of things, he wasn’t able to locate Matt.

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