Page 43 of Silenced

Well, I don’t have the patience of Hades, dammit.

I suck in a breath and spin on my heel before storming out of the safe room. Much like before, he follows me, but as I crawl onto the bed, he’s there. The comforter is dragged from my shrieking self and I’m hauled into his arms.

As I hit out, hands slamming into his chest, fists pummeling his shoulders in a way my battered fingers will regret later, he ignores me like I’m a mosquito buzzing around his head while he sleeps and carries me into the safe room.

That’s when I notice something I hadn’t spotted earlier.

From over his shoulder, I can see the side of the bed I didn’t sleep on—there are indentations and ripples in the sheets.

Did he sleep there too?

The fuck!

When he takes a seat, plunking me onto his lap, he informs me, “You lost the right to a covering.”

Though I gape at him, I’m swift to react—I shift and try to knee him in the balls at the same time. He grabs a firmer hold of me, catching my knee at the last moment and twisting me around even more.

How he maneuvers me is worse than if I’m a puppet. His strength leaches into the air as he manipulatesmybody so that I’m no longer sitting on his lap, I’m straddling him.

And my pussy is right over his dick.

He has an erection.

Yet again.

Over a decade without them and now I’ve had to deal with two in as many days.

I shudder at the realization. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes drop to my lips but this time, he doesn’t answer me. Instead, his hand moves to the dish where I realize there’s fruit in a crystal bowl and then a plate with bacon on it as well as strips of pancake and scrambled eggs too.

I can’t imagine this guy cooking so his personal freakin’ chef must have cut the pancake into slices and the eggs into medium, bite-sized chunks for me.

Someone knows I’m here and hasn’t called the cops…

Antagonized, I sign, “How do I know you haven’t drugged the food?”

The only time I’ve seen him truly angry with me was when I called Harvey ‘my husband.’ That same whisper of rage flares to life in his usually impassive features.

Rather than reply, he places a strip of pancake on his tongue and as he chews, my brain shifts off the topic of wondering whether he’s dosed the food and shuffles ontohim.

I still don’t know his name, still have no idea who he is or why he’s taken me, but… did he have to be so beautiful?

I hate myself for thinking that. For associating this asshole withbeauty.But I won’t be one of those women who could forgive a man his treatment thanks to his good looks. After Harvey, I know better, butafter Harvey, I can’t help but think that’s why this stranger has such an impact—not because of his attractiveness, but because of his response to me.

Harvey’s a solid four. On a good day.

Back when we’d first gotten together, I hadn’t seen that though.

When I informed my mom that I was marrying him, she actually told me that I was settling. We’d fought about it, and I’d almost considered not inviting her to the engagement party. Ultimately, she’d refused to attend the wedding.

But this man isnota four.

Solid or otherwise.

With a suit on, he’s a twelve.

Naked?

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