Page 120 of Never Fall for an Angel

Too late. He pulls back the curtain and sees me crying on the floor like a child who didn’t get her way, and his shoulders stiffen. He closes the curtain behind us and drops to his haunches in front of me while I hastily try to turn the tears off like a broken faucet.

“Hey, look at me.”

He tugs my face to him, and I close my eyes, hating that he can see me at my most vulnerable. Hating that even though he’s the man who kidnapped me, he’s also the one who calms the storm ravaging my mind.

“What’s going on?” he asks quietly, his voice gentle. “Don’t like the dress?”

“The dress is beautiful,” I whisper.

“Then, what is it? You want to go home?”

I shake my head. As overwhelming as it may be, I’m not ready to go back to the island. There’s still so much to see.

“Then what?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, scrubbing a hand over my eyes.

“Something.”

I chance a glance at him and find him studying me.

I wish he couldn’t see me. Especially now that I know what he’s seeing. The scared, translucent, damaged girl with lifeless eyes.

“You can tell me. I won’t be angry.”

Fuck. Why can’t I just cry in peace?

Oh, right. Because I’m a captive hiding out in a dressing room, crying because I feel ugly.

“I think I should put the dress back,” I breathe, and something flashes across his eyes, too quick for me to place.

“Why?”

I look away from him, rising to unsteady legs.

“I . . .” God, I can’t believe I’m telling him this. “It doesn’t look good on me.”

He fixes me with a hard stare, his jaw clenching and unclenching in the silence that follows.

“Come here.”

The dressing room is only a few feet wide as it is long, but I close the minuscule distance between us hesitantly.

In a rush, he takes me by the arms, forcing me to turn around and face the mirror. Face myself head-on.

“Please stop,” I whisper, wishing with everything I have that the mirror in front of me would disappear.

“Stand there.”

Christian steps behind me, his fingers slipping down the goosebumps on my arms while he watches me over my head.

“What are we doing?” I ask when he zips the dress up in the back.

“Look in the mirror, Mila.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat, meeting my own gaze. I want to look away as fresh tears burn behind my eyes, but whenI try, he reaches around and takes my chin, forcing my eyes forward.

Lowering his voice, he drops his lips to my ear, pulling my back into his front.

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