Page 25 of Rogue Villain

At least Wren is safe with you. Safe with you. Safe.

I doubt that, but clearly, Wren Caputo isn’t going anywhere any time soon, and I’m done sleeping in my fucking office.

CHAPTER8

WREN

Sunlight streaming through a crack in the blinds wakes me when it lands on my face, and I flop over onto my back to grab my cell from the nightstand.

I check the new text thread I started with Mom yesterday, noting that the messages I sent throughout the day are still unread.

My heart sinks even as I dial her number again, only for it to jump to life when the cell rings once, twice, three times before someone answers.

“Hello? Mom? Are you there?”

The sound of a man’s deep laugh, followed by a female voice—Mom’svoice, I would know it anywhere—answering fills my ears.

“Mom?”

Her tinkling laughter is my only reply, and then the line goes dead.

My whole face crumples in confusion as I dial her again while I shoot off a rapid page to the cowboy, hoping he’s true to his word. This time, the call goes straight to her voicemail, and the next three times that I retry have the same outcome.

There’s a sharp rap on my bedroom door, and I jump from the bed. “Just a sec!”

I throw on an oversized black hoodie that I’d stolen from the living room last night. I’d been cold after Lucia had dropped me upstairs before she’d started her shift. It hangs almost to my knees, hiding my sleep shorts from view, and smells entirely too sexy.

Even so, I find myself inhaling deeply as I pull it over my face. Notes of bergamot, sandalwood, and some unplaceable, fully masculine scent fill my senses, making my insides riot in the desire for more.

Despite his exterior, Ford is a great big softie, so I’m unconcerned about having my legs on display. I throw open the door, only for my stomach to flip-flop uncomfortably.

Vaughn Burton is standing there, clad in nothing more than a pair of tight black Calvins that leave preciselynothingto the imagination. His legs are braced apart, muscular, tanned arms folded over his spectacular, intricately tattooed chest, and my senses ignite.

I attempt to take a steadying breath, only to inhale more of the tantalizing scent from my—no,his—hoodie. My eyes rake across each and every exposed inch of perfect flesh until they land on his smirking lips, eventually rising to his dark, impenetrable gaze.

“Careful now, Miss Caputo. I wouldn’t want to ruin you for boys your age.”

His shit-eating wink quickly douses the fire within me, and I narrow my eyes as I completely ignore his taunt. “What do you want?”

He unfolds his arms in a graceful movement, leaning closer as he rests his palms on either side of the door frame. “Ford is away on business, so Ihave the sheerpleasureof answering your page today.”

His obsidian eyes turn predatory as they drop down along my body before slowly ambling back up to my face. “So…why the page, little bird?”

One side of his mouth tugs up in a grin that makes me want to kiss it off his face before slapping him.

Hard.

“Nothing you can help me with, Cactus.”

I move to close the door, but a large palm shoots out to slam against it as his eyes flash. “Don’t play games with me, Wren.”

All signs of playfulness have disappeared as he leans almost perilously closer. His sharp jaw tics. “Why. The. Page?”

Each word is enunciated succinctly in a low tone that I intuitivelyknowis designed to strike fear, and instead of answering him like I know Ishould, like I know he expects me to, some newly created inner demon takes control.

“None of your damn business.” I draw myself up to my full five foot two inches before popping a haughty brow. “And I’ll thank you to remove yourself from the space you’ve sokindlyprovided in my time of need.”

His nostrils flare dangerously, but he does as instructed, removing his hand from my door so that I can close it, all the time maintaining eye contact until the door slides into the frame.

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