Page 11 of The Hermit

While Ciara takes a seat, I remain standing beside her, my eyes moving between our guest and Dad.

Our very attractive guest.

It’s actually distracting how good-looking he is, but where other women may swoon, it leaves me cold inside.

Braden made sure I’d hate men for the rest of my life.

Dad gestures at our guest. “This is Dominik Varga.”

‘I’m good as dead if I supply the missiles to you. It’s Varga’s territory.’

Dad’s words echo through me, and as I look at Dominik Varga again, I see more than just the tattoos and good looks.

I see the danger in his eyes that stare at me as if I’m nothing but an annoying fly buzzing around the room.

Fear slithers down my spine, and my muscles tense as I frown at Dad. “You’ve never broughtworkhome before.”

Dad smiles at Dominik. “He saved your life last night, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

Even though I had a suspicion, hearing the words from Dad makes shock vibrate through me. My eyes fly back to Dominik, and I remember how he crashed through the window.

How he grabbed hold of me before jumping out of the building.

The strength in his body as he saved me from a fate worse than hell.

How safe I felt right before I passed out.

Last night, he was my mysterious rescuer, but as I look at him, I feel everything but safe.

He’s dangerous.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips before I manage to say, “Thank you.”

Dominik just nods, and only then do I realize he hasn’t spoken yet.

I turn my gaze back to Dad’s, then ask, “Do you need anything else from us?”

I really want to go back to my bedroom so I can continue to lick my wounds. I just need a day or two to process the hell I was forced to endure.

“Yes,” Dad says, then he nods toward the couch. “Sit down, Grace.”

Ugh.

Reluctantly I take a seat beside Ciara while giving our father an expectant look.

Dad gestures with a hand at Dominik, then says, “Mr. Varga and I have decided to join our business interests.”

Which means?

“I’ve arranged a marriage between him and Ciara.”

The words don’t register for a few seconds, but then they hit me square in the chest, detonating and sowing destruction through every inch of my being.

“No,” I whisper while Ciara gasps beside me.

It takes another few precious seconds before I dart to my feet, stepping in front of Ciara. My tone is low and filled with anger as I hiss, “Over. My. Dead. Body.”

“Grace!” Dad snaps at me as if I’m a petulant child he can subdue with a single word.

---