Page 24 of Bought
I dash out the door. The elevator’s broken again, so I do my best in my heels as I stumble down the stairs. I’ve forgotten my coat. An icy blast of wind hits me as I rush outside.
A stunning car waits for me.
A red Aston Martin. It’s not lost on me that it’s one of the most sought-after cars in the UK. A nod to my England, or just a coincidence?
He seems like someone who doesn’t believe in coincidences.
A familiar, tattooed man stands next to the sedan, ready to open the back door for me. Tonight, I don’t try to run from him. Instead, I extend a hand.
“Pleasure to run into you again, Mack.” I smile.
He shakes my hand and says, “Miss Croft. Nice to see you again, too.”
I slip into the backseat. “Thank you.” I’ve never smelled leather like this before. The interior envelops me in silky, smooth luxury.
He gets behind the wheel, saying, “You must be freezing,” as he cranks up the heat. “Mr. Bachman left something for you on the seat.”
I look to my right. Folded on the seat is a cream-colored wool coat. I lift it, holding it out for inspection. The inside is lined with a snuggly white fur.
“It’s a new coat.” Something shifts inside my cold heart. “He bought this?”
“Went out himself. He wasn’t pleased with your last one. Said it was too thin for this weather.” He meets my eye in the review mirror. “And tonight he’d be upset you were without one at all.”
I give him a grin. “He won’t have to know, will he?”
I slip my arms into the coat's sleeves. Instantly, I feel classy and elegant.It fits like it was made for me. The fabric is soft, warm, and beautiful, the color so different from my typical blacks and grays. It’s stunning.
I can still feel the heat of his gaze roving over my body last night, taking me in like he was memorizing every inch. He not only knew I’d be cold, but he also estimated my size perfectly.
Content in my surroundings, I stare out the window as the city slowly transforms—rundown buildings turning into glamorous ones—and I think about the man with the cold eyes and warm hands.
How I have to betray him to survive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucian
The knock is timid, like she’s afraid the man behind the door will bite.
She’s smart. I do. But only in the way that will leave marks on her breasts and aching for me.
I make her wait a beat. Part cruelty, part penance for making me want her.
She’s there in the coat I bought her—a radiant queen, chin high, eyes steely. The coat fits perfectly.
She shrugs it off her shoulders, and the room warms up a bit. “Thanks for the gift.”
Then she stands there, shifting her weight while trying to fake a confidence she doesn’t really have. She wants me to notice her. I seize the moment.
Silver clings to her like spilled moonlight, a tight dress that doesn’t ask for permission. A faint sliver of light-blue lace peeksat her shoulder—a bra strap—and I don’t need imagination to finish the set. Blue like her eyes. Chosen on purpose.
Chosen, for me.
“You’re late,” I say, even though she isn’t.
“Traffic,” she answers, even though there wasn’t.
God, I’ve missed the sound of that voice.
