Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Take care of all of this,” Vincent says calmly to Luc, who gives him a silent nod in return.
“Who did this?” I whisper.
The look that Vincent gives me in response is a troubling one, one that implies he doesn’t know.
“I heard a woman scream,” I say, growing suddenly worried when I don’t see the body of the maid anywhere around. “Is Zara—”
“She’s fine,” he interrupts. “She wasn’t in the building when this happened.”
He doesn’t put me down on my feet. Instead, he carries me down the hall toward the bathroom, where he turns on the shower and sets down a clean towel and robe.
I glance at myself in the mirror and can see the blood smeared across my cheek and arms from having held onto him.
“You should get cleaned up,” he says as he gets ready to leave. “I’ll be right outside this door waiting for you.”
“Wait,” I call out before he leaves. “You’re covered in blood. You should get cleaned up, too.”
I turn and reach for a second towel to set on the counter, and my eyes beckon for him to stay. To my surprise, he does.
Vincent turns back around and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I whisper as I step toward him and unbutton his shirt.
“You should be.”
His warning doesn’t dissuade me from sliding his shirt off over his shoulders and running my fingers along the scars that mar his torso. And it doesn’t discourage me from undoing his pants and letting them drop to the ground. Despite the gasp in my throat upon seeing his impressive endowment, we both need to put our desires on hold after everything we’ve experienced. Vincent steps into the shower, letting the hot water run down his body and wash the crimson stream of blood away. I watched the water run down his body, checking for any signs of injury. And I can’t help but let my gaze on the stiff cock that grows between his legs. I briefly stop before removing the nightgown I wore while peacefully sleeping before chaos ensued. He says nothing, doesn’t remove it from me, instead he just stands there staring at me like a hungry wolf that is denying its primal instincts.
I slide my nightgown off and step under the running water to join him. His crew is outside the bathroom, quickly cleaning up and sweeping away any evidence of the carnage before nosy cops or anyone else can discover what happened. This small space distracts me. I reach for the soap and run the slippery bar over Vincent’s chest, somewhat surprised that he is letting me clean him in the shower with both of our naked bodies together and without trying to take me. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d resist at all if he did.
Neither of us speaks as we stand there locked in an intense gaze with slow hands sliding over the other’s skin. But something’s changed between us now.
“You belong to me now,” Vincent says, eyes hollow as if he’s giving in to a carnal nature that he can no longer resist. And something inside of me feels like I already knew that.
CHAPTER 11
VINCENT
Isla can’t stay in the penthouse. As fortified as the building is, and as many men as I have at my disposal to guard her there, there is nothing safer than her being with me. Because I can’t constantly monitor her at the penthouse, moving her to my primary residence is the most prudent course of action. My home has fewer opportunities to be hacked or men to be compromised, and significantly less foot traffic, as it is not located atop a casino. And what it has is my constant presence to monitor Isla. I have never done this before. In fact, I’ve never brought a woman nor anyone outside of the tight inner circle of high-ranking advisors that I have inside of my home. But then again, no one expected the attack on the penthouse. And until I figure out who orchestrated that attack and who was trying to get to Isla, the threat remains significant.
“I can’t believe this is where you live,” she says as I bring her through the front door.
I have hidden my house well, away from the main drag of Vegas. I keep its location highly private, and my route coming and going from this house varies so that I’m never followed. No one, other than the people I explicitly approve, knows of its whereabouts.
As we walk inside, I do a quick check of the security cameras and a sweep of the house. My trusted guards patrol outside, yet I verify security before relaxing vigilance. When I return to the front entryway, Isla is no longer standing there.
“Isla?” I call out, touching the gun at my side, reassured that I can draw it instantly. I walk into the study and find her standing before the grand piano. “Do you play?” she asks as she runs her fingers over the keys.