Page 35 of The Way You Hurt Me

The thing is, whether they know the extent of my power, what my name truly represents or not, people fear me or put me on a pedestal, treating me like some sort of god—like the girl who gave me the clothes I asked for last week. They don't see me as some guy who might actually like a candy from time to time.

Willow saw me as a guy when she handed me a sweet, and when she decided to kiss me just because she wanted to.

I am one hundred percent sure that if I lost it all, tomorrow—the money, the power—every single one of the women who's wanted me before would find another billionaire to keep their interest. Everyone except Willow.

But the thing about being with me for longer than one night is that it's dangerous. Those who try to get to me usually end up in a shallow grave, so instead of directly aiming at me, my enemies have gone for people close to me. My cousins can take care of themselves—I saw to their training to ensure that. I took Cam hunting and trained his ass, too. Aiden sparred with me while I was growing up, so I know he can handle himself. Irina? Don't make me laugh. I pity the idiot taking a shot at her.

Willow's all softness. I could shove her on a plane and make her take the same exact training I put Magnus, Marius, and Markus through, and she'd still come back weak. Scratch that, it would kill her. And I don't want her to change to fit my world.

Which means that I knew, that day in my Hawaiian lounge, that the moment I'd respond to what she was offering, I'd have to take her and put her in a gilded cage.

Not a true cage—though I'm not entirely opposed to a locked room in my penthouse. She could still see her friends. She could still have a job. Go out. But notthisjob. She'd have to be employed by someone affiliated with me, someone happy to keep her four to six bodyguards around. Not friends. Just people who pass a thorough background check, and again, are comfortable with her guards. She'd only go to pre-approved clubs, restaurants. She wouldn't be Ruby Red Heart.

I would control her life. Only allow situations where her environment is safe.

That's no kind of life for someone who hasn't even done anything yet.

I gave her space, and time, and yes, also the freedom to go fuck whoever she pleased, maybe find someone else to love.

It would be much safer for her if she did.

If this is what she wants to do with her freedom, I am going to stand on the sidelines, cheer, andwatch.

The problem I have right now isn't the fact that she's going to get her face fucked by two guys who aren't me; it's the fact that she's going to get her face fucked by two guys I don't know and haven't vetted. I'm not judging her, or getting jealous—that's not my vibe. I love watching almost as much as I love touching. My problem is them.

I make myself breathe in and out, deep. It'll be fine. Last time worked out. There's no reason to stress myself out. I'll just watch. I doubled her security, there are two men following her, and a team in place at the hotel she picked according to her text thread.

And no, I don't feel bad about having her communications monitored—not even a little. I may not judge her little hobby, but I still think she's going about it in a way that could have already ended up seriously dangerous. She’s just been lucky thus far.

Lucky, and protected.

Everything will be fine.

And if it isn't? I'm ready for that eventuality, too.

17

WILLOW

The anticipation grows all week, until I'm so excited I can barely concentrate. Which is a good thing. At least, I don't let Lloyd bother me. But finally, it's Friday night.

It's hard to explain what these times in front of the camera represent for me.

I don't tend to feel like myself most of the time. The Willow Brown everyone see is a mask I wear to fit their expectations of me. The little girl, barely out of infancy, incapable of taking care of herself—that's how Morgan sees her little sister. The genius who's just a brain on legs, without feelings—that's what my friends from school and college see me. Then there's that thing men like Lloyd think they can control. The vulnerable prey who can't say no. He might have been the first to assume he could just touch me inappropriately, but he's not the first to look at me like that.

I'm never more myself than when I'm in front of the camera. Sexy, sensual, giving what I want, but on my terms.

In control.

I meet my two hires in the lobby, one blond and on the short side, the other dark-haired, with a beard that hides a weaker jawline.The guys are attractive enough, if a little less so than my first escort.

"Hey, I'm Ruby." I know better than to give my real name.

"Tom," the short one says. "This is my cousin, Sam."

Sam only nods.

"Great. Let's get to it, then. I only have you for an hour."

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