He’s cast a net over me. The more I struggle, the more I seem to entangle myself in it. I keep my gaze focused on his chest—his broad chest clad in the usual black sweatshirt, which stretches across those massive shoulders. He’s so big, I can’t see around him. His presence is so potent, the rest of the world might as well have vanished. He draws in a breath and the muscles under his sweatshirt ripple.
Then he leans in so his thighs bracket mine. The emptiness between my legs is replaced by a throbbing heaviness. He pinches my chin, so I have no choice but to look up at him. My gaze meets his piercing green gaze, and a trembling grips me. Gah, stop it. You should slap his face for the way he retreated from you so quickly yesterday.
I open my mouth, but he speaks first, "I have a proposition for you."
10
Knight
"Eh?" She gapes at me. "What did you say?"
I lower my hand to my side. "I understand yesterday must have been a little out of the ordinary for you—"
"You think?"
"—which is the only reason I’m going to repeat myself. I have a suggestion for an arrangement which might benefit you."
Her gaze widens further until her blue eyes seem to swallow up her face. With her blonde hair and a pink dress that barely contains her curves, she’s definitely not the kind of girl I’m normally attracted to. But then, I’ve rarely noticed the features of women I’ve been with, let alone the shapes of their bodies. One hole was as good as another—except when it comes to hers. And no one had been inside of her. Fuck me.
When she announced that yesterday, it was as if a building had collapsed on me. The reverberations from her proclamation managed to cut through the wall I'd built around myself during those days in captivity. I’d divorced myself from my body—locked away my feelings, my emotions, my humanity in a corner of my mind which I’d then isolated behind a barrier. And she—had managed to get through it.
She surprised me, and I wasn't able to stop myself from reacting—by running away from her. The shock of feeling something other than that hopelessness inside of me sent me packing. Like the coward you are. When it came down to it, tough guy, you weren't cut out to be a soldier. And then, I walked into the bar today and spotted her. She drew me to her like a magnet. Before I realized it, I was standing behind her. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her—but putting forward a plan to her was not on my list.
Now, she firms her lips, then juts out her chin. "If you think I’m going to listen to you after you ran from me like I had the plague, then you are so mistaken, you—"
"You’re right in being angry with me," I murmur.
She blinks. "I am?"
She’s surprised. I don’t blame her. Hell, I surprised myself with that statement. But needs must, and all that. She’s pissed off, and if I were my natural self, she wouldn't listen to me. So, I’m going to turn on my charm and try to convince her. My charm always works, after all. I curve my lips.
She frowns. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to demonstrate that it’s a good idea for you to listen to me."
"Well, if you’re going to wear that grimace on your face—"
I straighten my mouth. "It wasn’t a grimace."
"I was on the receiving end of it, so trust me when I say, it was painful to look at."
I stiffen my spine. Fuck that pretense. It’s not me. Might as well lay it all out in black and white. "You will work for me."
"Excuse me?"
"You. Will. Work. For. Me," I growl.
She folds her arms across her chest. "And if I say no?"
The fuck? No one says no to me. Not even the team who followed me on my last mission; and look what happened to them? You saw them tortured; you saw them die. You should have died, too. Why did you escape, you— "Mr. Warren?" She touches my shoulder. "Hey, Mr. Warren, sir?"
Did she say sir? My cock twitches. I snap out of my reverie and look down my nose at her.
"Ms. Michelle Easton. Suffers from advanced dementia, which has led to her rapid degeneration. You moved her from Gainesville, Florida to London so you could take care of her.”
The color leaches from Penny’s cheeks.
“She’s confined to a care home the last three years and—"
"Stop, why are you telling me this?" she cries.
"Because you need the money to take care of her."
She flushes. "Are you blackmailing me?"
"It was an order, actually."
"An order?" she asks slowly.
I resist the urge to bark at her to stop wasting my time when we both know it’s only a matter of time before she complies.
"You’re ordering me to work for you?"
"Yes."
"And if I don’t want to?"
"Like I said, I don’t think you have the luxury of choice."
She tips up her chin. "I have other ways of making money."
"If you mean by pretending to be a submissive, you can drop that idea; you’re no good at it."
Her color deepens. "I… I can use my body."
Anger twists my guts; a physical pain stabs me in my chest. "No," I snap.
"Excuse me?"
I look her up and down. "If you think anyone is going to pay for that, then you’re being truly optimistic."
She draws in a sharp breath. "You’re a horrible, horrible man. After how you acted yesterday, I should have ignored you, but I thought, you're Abby’s brother; you’ve been through a lot the last six months. Which is why I gave you a second chance. Now, I know I made a mistake. You’re a born asshole. I don’t know how you have a wonderful person like Abby for a sister. You don’t deserve her." She slides off the bar stool and straight into the space between my thighs.
And do I let her go? Of course not. She thinks of me as a bastard. May as well confirm that impression, hmm? I reach forward and slap my palms on her barstool so I’ve bracketed her in.
Her chest rises and falls, and her breathing grows unsteady. "Wh-what are you doing?" Her voice is unsteady.
"You don’t think I’m going to let you go without being compensated in some way for the time you wasted yesterday, do you?"
"Hey, I'm the one who didn’t get paid for the pleasure you derived from my—" She snaps her lips together.
"From your—？"
"From my body."
"On the contrary, I'm the one who made you almost come with my expert handling of your pussy, so it’s you who owe me."
Her lips part, and her pupils dilate. Interesting. Is it because I used the P-word?
"Does your cunt miss the touch of my fingers?"
The pulse at the base of her throat drums faster.
"Does your arse feel the prints of my palm on it?"
She swallows.
"Did it hurt when you sat down, hmm?"
A jolt travels up her body.
So, she likes dirty talk. That’s good. Not that I’m keeping track of everything she responds to; nothing like that. But the thought of her not agreeing to my proposition… Is not acceptable. And when I tried to turn on the charm, she saw right through me. Which is why I’m being so heavy-handed, including using her mom’s needs to coerce her… Which is a shit move and isn’t helping my case. I need to back the fuck off here and be strategic.