He holds back a laugh, then smirks at me. “Baby, come on. Me sharing that little body with the world? Never.”
Oh, Grayson. Such a confusing, beautiful nightmare.
I flush red and blurt: “I love you.”
He closes his eyes for half a second, just long enough for the storm in him to still. But he swallows and forces himself to look away. Then he turns to the room.
He points at Meghan. “Chain her. Get her out of here.”
“What is this?” she growls as the two guys cuff her hands and ankles.
Grayson glares at her. “You set up Charlotte. Tried to have her raped by some bastard with a badge and a death wish.”
“Riser,” she mumbles.
He nods. “Turns out, you were the one with a death wish.”
“No! Wait! Listen, Rowen!” she begs.
But the men drag her out of the room. She screams the whole way out.
But I stay still, wrapped in this sheet, watching the monster I thought I’d created become my protector instead. And when the door slams behind them all, it’s just me and him. Breathing. Watching.
I fidget. “Who are those guys? What will happen to her?”
Click.
I yelp and grab my neck.
“Oh, my dumb Charlotte,” he says, almost sweetly. “Thinking’s dangerous for girls like you. Nothinking. That’s my job.”
I nod, but the truth stings. I’m not just Grayson’s prisoner. My body obeys him more than it obeys me. He branded my heart long ago. Now, he’s branded my skin.
Chapter 46
Charlotte
It’s been a week.
I always thought escaping a kidnapping would be easy. Pick the cuffs with a bobby pin. Sweet-talk the guard who brings food. Scream out a window until someone hears.
But there is no guard. Only Grayson.
And he doesn’t just feed me. Hewatchesme eat.
The window? Boarded. The cuffs? Too thick. Nothing here bends. Nothing breaks. Except me, maybe.
He’s insane. I don’t usually swear, but after a week of being his captive, I call it what it is. Grayson is fucking batshit crazy.
But I have a plan.
He climbs into bed beside me, shirtless, chiseled, so warm. Just perfect. Of course, my body betrays me instantly, hips aching, breath catching.
Focus, Charlotte. Lust will keep me trapped. I need to escape back to reality: To Atticus, Wilbur, my freaking career!
I curl into him like I mean it. Stroke the ridges of his abs, light and slow. The chain around my wrist rattles like it’s calling his name.
He grabs the links, clenching them in his fist. He loves holding the chain. Even asleep, he never lets go.
