Page 50 of Power
Archer crosses over to me slowly and with his hands on show. He’s trying not to scare me, but it’s not working.
“We need you safe and somewhere where you will be watched over and comfortable. You are my Queen, Bailey, and you will be treated as such.”
“Queen,” I say flatly. “Because you are the King.”
He nods slowly.
“Fucking hell,” I murmur and drop my head into my hands. “I just can’t with this right now.” I push past him, but he reaches out and grasps my arm lightly.
“You can’t leave. You have no clothes on.” His soft smirk makes it impossible to be afraid of him. Or maybe that’s my fucked-up brain at work. I still find him sexy and alluring, and his voice, those words.
Fuck.
I’m sunk.
He, all three of them, have sunk me.
I admit defeat, at least for now. “I need a hot shower, and then I’m going to bed. I want answers tomorrow, Archer. Proper, real answers. I still know nothing.”
“I know, and you will get them. Just know that you are safe and cherished here. Please don’t be afraid, baby girl.”
We lock gazes, and I truly believe he means that. His stare is soft and gorgeous, his body language is fluid and sleek, and for my sins, when he calls me baby girl, I melt.
I smile tightly, and he lets me go. Owen is there to lead me up to the second floor of this magnificent penthouse.
“I’ll run you a warm bath,” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “I just want a hot shower and to crawl into bed. I need to scrub everyone’s pervy gazes off me.”
He nods slowly, a look of understanding on his face.
He takes my hand and pulls me along into a main bedroom so luxurious and beautiful I want to weep. A king-size bed with white silk sheets, red roses everywhere, and a blood-red, heart-shaped cushion nestled between the cloud-like pillows. The carpet under my feet is thick and plush. It’s a world away from what I’m used to. Two worlds. Three, even.
“Wow.” I can’t help my murmur of admiration.
Owen smiles indulgently and leads me into an en-suite bathroom that takes my breath away.
“Whoa,” I snicker as I take in a ginormous jacuzzi tub in the corner, plus a claw-footed bathtub, a shower that is bigger than my bathroom at home, a toilet, bidet, and triple basins. All in a gleaming white porcelain. There is under-floor heating and chrome fittings. Soft, dimmed spotlights light the room, and a full-length frosted window lets in the dim city lights.
Owen chuckles and rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt, leaning into the shower to turn it on. “Can’t have it hot,” he murmurs. “It will hurt.”
“Hmm?”
He reaches out to remove the jacket that I’d slipped my arms into at some point to keep me warm. “Your back,” he replies softly.
I freeze at the reminder. The dull burn had dimmed with everything else, but now it’s back with a vengeance.
Owen throws the jacket over a fancy armchair in the corner and reaches up to pull the pins out of my messed-up bun. My wet hair flops around my shoulders. With a grimace, I shove it out of my face.
I avoid the massive mirror, not wanting the temptation to turn around and see what Archer did to me.
He takes my hand and pulls me slowly to the shower. “Ease into it,” he says quietly.
I step in and automatically close my eyes and turn away from the jet to wet my hair.
I screech as the water feels like daggers on my back.
“Fuck! Fuck!” I sob. “You’re fucking dicks.”
