Senator Ford guides me into position with practiced ease, his hand settling against the small of my back. I stiffen instinctively,fighting the urge to flinch away. His palm splays out, my muscles coiling beneath his touch, but I force the polite smile I’ve become too good at faking.
We begin to move in time with the music, his inscrutable eyes locking with mine. “You’re a pretty little thing,” he murmurs.
“Um, thanks,” I breathe, a blush rising to my cheeks.
He pulls me in a little closer, voice sliding slick and low into my ear. “Whatever my son’s paying you, I’ll triple it if you leave now.”
My stomach flips.
I blink back at him, unsure whether I heard right. His smile hasn’t faltered, though, and that’s when it sinks in.
This isn’t a misunderstanding, it’s a transaction. He thinks I’m for sale.
Because of what Ford said about my mother.
Becauseof coursehe does.
The music continues around us, elegant and meaningless, while I stand frozen in place, my pulse pounding in my ears. The low, vicious hum of humiliation rises like bile in my throat, and then he adds insult to injury. With practiced, sleight-of-hand ease, Senator Ford presses a hotel key card into my palm, fingers lingering a moment too long.
“Suite 1404,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “Lose the dress, but keep the heels and lingerie on.” He winks like he’s giving me a compliment, then abruptly lets me go and vanishes into the crowd.
I stand paralyzed in the middle of the dance floor, the plastic key card biting into my palm as my fist curls around it. I swear every chandelier in the room is suddenly casting its light my way, illuminating every flaw. The room sways gently, but it’s not the champagne. It’s shame, coiling in my gut like smoke, suffocating my lungs.
I want to scream. I want to disappear.
Then I feel my monster prowl up behind me, his presence like a shadow swallowing mine. Ford’s arm bands around my waist, pulling me backwards, anchoring me to him in a way that’s simultaneously comforting and terrifying.
“The fuck was that about?” he growls in my ear.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, but my words are stuck somewhere behind the champagne and bile and disbelief.
Losing patience, Ford grabs for my hand and pries my fingers open, eyes landing on the hotel key. His expression quickly shifts from suspicion to something darker. Something raw and sharp-edged, like hurt wrapped in barbed wire.
“You went to him?” he snarls, spinning me around so I’m forced to meet his furious glare. “You thoughthecould save you? That he’d get you out of our deal? That you could run from us, and we wouldn’t catch you?” His fingers wrap tighter around my wrist, pinning the card to my palm like a brand.
I shake my head, about to tell him he’s got it all wrong, but then… that unhinged spark in his eyes suddenly doesn’t scare me like it should.
Itthrillsme.
I want to run, but I want him to chase me more.
Ford leans in close, his breath hot on my ear. “Go ahead and run, little rabbit. Nothing gets my dick hard like a good hunt.”
My pulse roars in my ears, fight or flight thrumming in my blood. Again, I could just explain what happened and put a stop to all this, but I must be just as crazy as Ford, because I don’t. I play right into his game, excitement surging through me as I turn and run.
A wild rush of exhilaration propels me off the dance floor and through the grand double doors of the ballroom, high heels clipping the marble as I bolt for the elevator bank. I glance over my shoulder as I mash the button, seeing him coming, drawing closer and closer…
The elevator doors part with a chime and I dash inside, punching the button for the fourteenth floor. I stare out at Ford as the doors start to slide shut, the look in his eyes conveying a sinister promise as he stalks toward me. The closer he gets, narrower my view of him between the doors becomes, until his hand shoots out and catches them just in time. They pop back open, all the air rushing from my lungs.
Ford steps in and crowds the entire space, a tightly wound bundle of muscle and danger. He just hovers there like a phantom, blocking my escape as the doors start to slide closed behind him. I slowly back into the corner as the elevator begins its slow ascent, a heady mixture of fear and anticipation curling in my gut.
“Ford,” I whisper, not sure whether it’s a plea for him to free me or go in for the kill.
He chooses the latter, on me in an instant, pinning me to the wall with a hand on my throat. His knee shoves between my legs, tongue licking a stripe up the side of my face. I pant and whimper, sounds that would almost be convincing if it wasn’t for the way my fingers are clawing at his hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. His hands command my body, a low growl rumbling in his chest, vibrating against mine. The elevator dings, and he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.
“Which room?” Ford demands, all heat and aggression.
“Fourteen oh four,” I gasp breathlessly.
