Page 99 of Greed: The Savage
Only…where was there to go?
Nowhere. Lord Dynevor offered her employment elsewhere. In her haste to run from Malric and shut out him and the anguish he’d inflicted, she’d cost herself security that would have come from Dynevor’s connections. The minute she’d gone to the Duke of Argyll, she’d eliminated all future prospects—except one.
As though he sensed she’d set her own trap, the duke smiled.
“Why don’t you, Miss Killoran, allow me to decide that for myself?” His voice was velvet, smooth and dark, like the Earl of Dynevor’s finest brandy.
Addien’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say anything.”
His smile deepened. “Ah, but you didn’t need to. You’re telling yourself, ‘I made a mistake in coming here.’ And I’m assuring you—you haven’t.” His gaze hooded, his voice sinking lower, he added, “In fact, I intend to prove it, Miss Killoran.”
A tremor skated along her skin.
The duke lounged there in the doorway. Unmoving. Unthreatening. Not closing in on her. Not stalking her.
Not like Malric.
Oh God, how she preferred Malric’s stalking. She craved it. The brutal honesty of it.
The unbearable ache of missing him hollowed her out; it left her raw and aching.
It was that longing for him, sharp as pain, that drove her choice: one danger over another.
“You know who I am,” she remarked.
“Miss Killoran, I know everything.” The handsome duke flashed the same smile that had led Eve to sin. “Now,” he said, “why don’t you tell me exactly why it is you’ve come to my modest club and how I may be of service to you?”
Addien hesitated. There was a difference between her and Eve here after all. Certainly, Eve hadn’t felt this level of reservation in that doomed paradise.
Nor did she fear Argyll’s charm and herself around it.
It’s what running to Argyll would mean to Malric.
He’d see her actions this day as an unforgivable betrayal.
A hollow laugh pressed against her chest. No, that would have to mean the Marquess of Thornwick cared in some way about Addien. He didn’t.
In fact, it was more likely he’d admire Addien’s savvy move, distancing herself from him—andthenhe’d hold her with the same disdain he did the Duke of Argyll.
She had no choice. She’d drawn her blade and now had to bleed for it.
“Your Grace, I have come in search of employment.”
The Duke of Argyll’s smile—as blindingly bright as the rest of him—widened.
“I was hoping you would say that, Addien,” he said, laying deliberate possessiveness and ownership of her name.
Addien lifted her chin. She’d still not surrender any part of herself to this man or anyone. No, not even to keep herself safe from being emotionally wrecked anymore by Malric. “My name is Snap.”
“No, it’s not,” he said with a gentle, seductive sway in his voice. “That is merely the name Lord Dynevor assigned you. That isn’t a name.”
At long last, the duke stepped away from the door and began his way over to her. His steps as sleek and sensual as the rest of him, he moved with both graceful elegance and strength, a grand juxtaposition that somehow, with this man, made sense.
Addien kept her features even. So the Duke of Argyll would stalk her too. But Malric? He was a wild king of the jungle, bent on possession and clear in his intent.
As if he’d sensed her disinterest, the duke stopped in his tracks. He gave her a mysterious look, and then, with a more honest reaction, disinterestedly, he moved past her and over to the same painting she’d been studying upon his arrival.
Swiftly, unexpectedly, he put a heated gaze upon her.
