Page 41 of Into the Woods

And my heart? That stupid muscle can fuck right off, because who in their right mind would have any room in their heart for someone who can treat them so callously, hurt them so easily? How can it beat for him as he tosses it aside without a care? Tosses it aside and stomps on it. Shreds it.

He always has and from the way things are going, he always will.

Christophe might want to fuck me, but he has never had a problem walking away from me and I don’t see any hints of that changing. Certainly not now.

Not when he’s so focused on the money my parents owed him.

Not when he reminds me of how much my virginity will sell for, while he’s got his hand in my pants strumming me until I’m quivering like a newborn woodland animal trying to stand for the first time.

He takes me in from head to toe. His gaze caresses me, the heat in his eyes burning me as he lingers on my hips and thighs, my chest and neck, my mouth. His silence is complete and if I’m honest, completely unnerving.

I shift under his perusal.

“You uncomfortable with this, honeybee? The way I look at you?”

I still. “No.”

A dark chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest. “No? The blush painting your creamy skin says something very different.” He circles me slowly, pausing behind me before stepping back in front of me, arms crossed, chin tilted down. Eyes dark.

I clear the nerves from my throat. “Why am I here?” I wish I had taken a moment to clear my throat a second time, given myself a pep-talk, because that question doesn’t come out with near enough confidence.

“It’s time,” he says.

“For?”

Another low laugh. “Time to get you ready for your big night on stage.”

My brows pinch together. “But the auction is next week. You said?—”

“And now it’s tonight.” He reaches out, running his thumb along my bottom lip.

I’m tempted to wrap my lips around the tip and pull it into my mouth, suck on it, twirl my tongue around it—lure him in and then sink my teeth in and bite the fucker.

“After your stunts earlier this week, I think it’s best for me to supervise your preparations.”

“You’re shitting me,” I say, wide-eyed. Why am I shocked? Why does the loss of yet another illusion of control surprise me?

At the tug of his lips into a sardonic grin, my shoulders deflate. Not just my shoulders…every last bit of me. I have nothing left in me to fight him. I’m exhausted.

“Okay.” I roll my lips between my teeth and nod, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Okay. Is someone meeting me in my room?”

He stares at me for so long, I wonder if he’s going to bother responding.

“How much time do I have to get ready?” I ask as I walk toward the open door of the office.

I mumble “excuse me” to the huge man blocking the way. The man who looks at Tru with softness, such tenderness, stares at me like I’m nothing more than a commodity.

Christophe huffs a laugh behind me drawing the man’s attention from me. “Teague, you brought everything?”

“Yeah, boss.” He moves into the room, herding me back with every step.

I have no choice but to get out of Teague’s way or get run over by him and I’m not about to let that happen. I may not have much—even my dignity is dwindling by the minute—but I will do whatever I can to not stumble and fall on my ass. Again.

Christophe’s goon stalks across the room and deposits a small black carry-on case next to a chair set in front of a massive mirror propped in the corner. He hangs a garment bag from the mirror’s frame, and retreats to the door.

“Anything else, boss?”

Christophe dismisses him with a chin lift adding, “Do what you need and be ready to leave when we’re through in here.”

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