Page 134 of Sinful Pleasure

He finally pulls back, but only enough to cup my face in his hands. His gaze is unrelenting— as if he’s memorizing every inch of my features. A soft smile curves his lips, but his eyes—they’re different.

Blurry. On the verge of tears.

This man doesn’t seem like someone who usually cries.

His expression shifts. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches me off guard.

“You’re finally home,” he whispers, his voice low and heavy, as his thumbs trace the outline of my cheeks.

“I’m finally home? What…?”

I pulled back from him, confusion flooding my mind as I processed his words. His gaze never wavered, but I could see the understanding in his eyes—he knew exactly how lost I felt.

“I’m sure you are confused” he said gently, but there was an edge of sorrow in his tone.

“Damn right I am!” My voice came out sharper than I intended, laced with anger and fear. “You kidnapped me!”

He shook his head, lifting his hands in a peaceful gesture, as though he was trying to soothe a frightened animal.

“No, I saved you.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“You’ve made a mistake. Please, just let me go.”

His expression faltered, like my words had physically pained him. He refused to give in, shaking his head slowly.

“No, Allyn. I don’t make mistakes,” he said firmly, stepping toward me once again. I instinctively took a step back, my heart racing. “I know it’s all very overwhelming, but let me explain everything.”

“I don’t want to listen!”

The words exploded from me before I could stop them.

Tears started to spill down my cheeks, and I clenched my arms around my body, trying to hold myself together. I was shaking uncontrollably, but I couldn’t stop it.

“I just want to go home…”

He paused, eyes softening with concern.

“You will need time, I understand that,” he said, his voice quieter now, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His forehead creased as he stepped closer, his tone more serious.

“But you need to know—you’re safe here.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” My voice wavered, raw with emotion. “I don’t even know you. I don’t even know your name.”

A flicker of sadness crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a resolute calm.

‘‘My name is Mikael.”

It didn’t stir anything in me.

Nothing. No recognition.

Just like a stranger’s name.

“I don’t know you.”

“I know,” he sighed, his eyes drifting to the floor for a brief moment. “I wish things had turned out differently.”

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