Page 70 of The Oath We Give

“Excuse me?” I release a puff of smoke toward the man in front of me.

His blond hair is slicked back, blue suit freshly pressed, and his wallet is out, thumb filing through the bills.

Is he propositioning me for sex work right now?

As if silently answering my question, his eyes wander over my body, and a sick feeling settles in my stomach. I flick my gaze down at the halter dress. It’s a little short and shows some skin with the open back, but it’s hot, and it’s the middle of the fucking day. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“How much for the night?” he repeats, his voice low and almost guttural.

I take a step back from me, scoffing as I shake my head, taking another hit off my cigarette before throwing it toward the street.

My first trip to Portland in months, and this is what the city greets me with?

The sheer audacity and ignorance of some men to assume based on what I’m wearing that I’m for sale? A chilling thought crosses my mind. Is that why Stephen picked me? Because of how I look?

I squash it immediately after thinking.

Getting kidnapped was not my fault. I may have trouble accepting some things about what happened, but that isn’t one of them. I did nothing to deserve what they did to me.

“How about you back the fuck up.”

A thunderous voice, deep and menacing, reverberates from behind me.

I feel him like a dense fog, curling around me, moving like mist.

Intuitively or maybe because his tone made me jump, I take a step back, my black pumps clicking on the sidewalk as I do. My back hits his chest, head several inches beneath his chin.

Mr. Bank Broker, or maybe a stock manager, takes a step back himself, looking slightly taken aback by the sudden intervention. Fear makes him swallow roughly.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he mumbles, shoving his wallet into his pocket, holding his hands up in defense. “I thought she was—”

“I don’t care. Walk away while you still have the ability.”

I stifle a laugh, not at the words but at the way the man pales, tucking his tail between his legs and scurrying away.

When he’s gone, I turn to face the knight in shining armor I didn’t want or need, intent on telling him I can fight my own battles, but decide to keep my mouth shut when I see him.

Silas’s dark brown eyes reflect the sun, stern expression sorta melting away when he looks away from the entitled man and down at me.

The gray suit he’s wearing complements my dress perfectly, like he’d been in my room while I was dressing and watched so we could match. The way it folds and bends across the muscle of his chest and arms. I bite the inside of my cheek, tilting my head to look a little closer at the tattoos sprawling up his neck, peeking out from the top of the suit.

I feel physically small in his presence.

“Do I look like I’m for sale?” I arch an eyebrow, crossing my arms in front of my chest to create some distance between us.

He scoffs, air puffing his lips. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a soft laugh, but I do, in fact, know better. Silas slowly lifts his pointer finger and slides a strand of white hair from the front of my face, his golden ring glinting in the light.

“You can’t put a price on you,” he whispers huskily, leaning closer, his chest touching my arms. “Men would still pay millions, but that has nothing to do with your looks.”

My stomach flips, heat rushing to my cheeks, but I scoff to cover up the effect his words have on me.

“Let’s get this over with,” I mumble, clearing my throat and turning my back to him. “I have to get back to the studio tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hear Silas’s footsteps follow me as we make our way past the concrete front steps and into the entrance of the courthouse.

Once we move through the metal detectors, a security guard nods his head in acknowledgment, waving us forward before searching another visitor’s bag.

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