Page 187 of Nanny and the Beast

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He ignores my question and keeps walking down the corridor. It’s empty except for the two of us. The lights flicker as we pass by them.

I glance behind me, half expecting to see an armed man following us.

“Stop,” I say, tugging on my hand until he stops walking. “Just stop.”

“Where else do you want to go?” he asks. “To the man you were grinding up against? Do you think he cares about you? He’ll forget you by tomorrow.”

“You’re hurting me,” I say, glancing down at my wrist.

His jaw grinds before he steps toward me and scoops me into his arms. I’m several feet off the ground as he carries me to wherever he wants to take me.

Everything in me explodes.

I’ve been trying to contain it all inside me. I’ve been trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt. But it all hurts so much. I don’t have any fight left in me.

I cling tighter to him when we step outside into the cold night. A black G-Wagon is waiting for us.

The car looks familiar. I think I saw it following me as I drove to the club tonight.

He unceremoniously deposits me in the back seat before climbing in after me. The car starts moving immediately, heading toward the gates.

Klaus and I stare at each other, unsaid words hanging heavy between us. He looks absolutely livid as he takes in all of me. There’s glitter everywhere—his hands, my chest, the car seat. My skin sparkles like a million diamonds every time the light hits me.

He grabs a tissue and wipes his hands with it.

“So this is who you are,” he says, glancing over at my skimpy dress.

It feels like a slap to the face.

“Do you have a problem with it?” I ask.

“If you want to whore yourself out, that’s your choice,” he says, pursing his lips.

“Damn right, it’s my choice,” I say. “And besides, you’re one to talk.”

“Meaning?”

“There’s only one reason men like you come to places like Elysium,” I say. “It’s to see girls like me. After all, girls like me areconvenient, right?”

His face is a blank mask. It gives me absolutely nothing.

A chill passes through me. It’s the middle of November, and I’m wearing a short dress.

Without a word, he removes his suit jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. It’s a sweet gesture, but not enough to make me forget the words he said about me behind my back.

“Adam was there,” he says.

“I know. I saw him.”

“Did you know he used to be a police officer?” he asks.

That piece of information breaks through my gloom. I shake my head.

“He’s far more dangerous than I gave him credit for,” Klaus says, resting his head back. He looks completely exhausted.

And despite everything that happened tonight, I want to reach for his hand to comfort him. But I don’t. There’s too much distance between us right now. It can’t ever be bridged.

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