Page 41 of Claim

Reaching the end of the runway, I paused, pivoting my body. I waited a few seconds to allow the photographers to take their pictures.

Damon continued to hold me captive with his penetrating lure. The arousal I’d tried so hard to ignore for the last few days rushed forward, all but consuming me, tingeing my skin with sweat and need.

He’d denied me—the bastard.

The surge of annoyance brought back some semblance of sanity. Before I turned, I narrowed my eyes at Damon, and he smirked in response.

Asshole.

Turning, I returned to the staging area.

* * *

An hour after the end of the fashion show and the publicity Q&A session, I stepped into the ladies’ lounge set up for the models. Of course, it was more of a glorified bathroom, but whatever.

The second Karina gave me the all-clear, I handed over the jeweled undies and slipped on a pair of comfortable linen pants and a hoodie.

I cringed, thinking of the shit I’d hear from Mom or, God help me, Dad the moment they learned of what I’d worn for the show.

Karina owed me for spending the day naked. And she could afford it since some dumbass had bought the whole ensemble I’d worn before I’d taken two steps down the runway.

After taking care of business and washing my hands, I studied my face in the mirror above the sink.

That was when I heard the distinct sound of a whimper, and the hairs on my arms prickled. A flood of memories tried to push to the surface, but I wrestled them back.

Shifting my gaze from my reflection, I studied the stalls and saw a person crouched in the corner of one in the far back. Whoever it was, they couldn’t stop shaking.

Immediately, rage consumed me as I remembered being a girl in a very similar position, at a different fashion show, in a different bathroom, not so long ago.

At the door, I said gently, “Hey, It’s Sophia Morelli.”

“Please don’t let anyone in here.” Her tears tore at my heart. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Okay, let me lock the door.”

Rushing to the main door of the lounge, I locked it and returned to the girl.

“No one can get in. It’s safe to come out.”

She unlatched the stall, and I found Alice, one of the younger models chosen to run the catwalk during fashion week. She was maybe seventeen or eighteen at most.

“I’m scared he’ll come back.”

My stomach clenched hearing her say those words. “Who will come back?”

“I can’t tell you.” She shook her head. “He said if I breathe a word of it to anyone, he’ll make sure I won’t work again.”

For a split second, I felt a double vision come over me as if I were reliving my past.

“What did he do?”

“He… He…came in here while I was getting ready to leave.” She looked away from me. “He wouldn’t let me leave. He touched me. I think he would have done more if I hadn’t bitten him.”

That’s when I noticed the bruise on her cheek. I’d had something similar and lied to Leo when he demanded to know who hit me. I’d given him some bullshit story about getting elbowed at a club, not the truth that a fashion designer smacked me after I’d kneed him in the balls.

Sliding onto the floor next to her, I wrapped my arms around Alice and gathered her to me. “You protected yourself. You’re strong.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

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