She’s soaked within minutes, and she’s completely oblivious that she’s being watched. She isn’t street smart. The idea that she thinks she got away that easily is flabbergasting.
She keeps to the same pace. A couple who moved past her, huddled under an umbrella, has me pausing. Will she ask them for help?
I might have to kill them both. They don’t slow down or even notice Evie. How could they not notice her? Even soaking wet, she was still a rare beauty. The moment they pass her, she shoots out from under the awning and starts running, changing her earlier movements.
I don’t jog but walk faster, the moment she turns a corner, I start to run, and when she’s back in my line of sight, I slow back down. We’ve cleared a few blocks when she finally stops. She looks over her shoulder, but I’m already in the shadows. Hope widens her eyes, and she’s running across the street.
There is no way she saw me; yet, she’s nearly upon me. The moment she steps closer, I’ll grab her and end this escapade of hers. She moves past me and pulls open the door of a phone booth. She has to kick it a few times to get it closed behind her. I know she has no money. She doesn’t pick up the receiver, yet she stares at it long enough that I’m ready to step out of the shadows. She picks up the phone directory and flicks through it. Once she finds what she’s looking for, she tears a page out and folds it several times before stuffing it into her back pocket.
I brush more rain off my face as she puts the phone book back and stares at the phone. She finally reaches out and lifts the receiver. She doesn’t touch the keypad but leans her head against the glass. Her shoulders shake.
She jerks upright and slams the receiver down. The distress on her face is evident as she turns and leaves the phone booth and starts to walk into the rain. Her hand keeps patting her jeans pocket as if she’s trying to make sure the piece of paper is still there. She stops at the end of the road, ready to cross, but I’ve had enough.
I step up beside her.
Her shoulders stiffen before her gaze travels up to my face; Any color that had tainted her cheeks vanishes. Two guys are ready to cross the street, and before she can do anything, I pull Evie to the side and press her against a shop front.
“Don’t draw attention, or I’ll kill them,” I whisper and press closer to her body. She smells of rain and something sweet. My lips linger close to her ear, her body is pressed against mine, and it feels fucking good to have her this close.
She’s shaking under me, and when I press a kiss just below her earlobe, she freezes. The men have moved past. I know I can let her go, but I don’t. I press another kiss to her jawline, and she pulls away from me, ending my kisses. I have no fucking idea why I’m doing this. I step away and grip her hand. She doesn’t fight me as we walk in the downpour back to the penthouse. The moment we enter the lobby, I see our reflection in the elevator doors. We are both soaked, Evie’s gaze is on me, and I see the fear take over before she tries to pull away from my hand. The doors open, and the ding has her short-lived rebellion stopping. I pull her in and don’t release her hand.
She doesn’t start to plead or explain herself, and I don’t ask. The more I think about what could have happened to her being on the streets alone, the angrier I become at her.
I release her hand, not wanting to crush her delicate fingers. The moment we reach the penthouse, she’s out of the elevator like a bull let loose from a pen.
“Come back, now, Evie!” My warning has her stalling. I remove my suit jacket, and it plops loudly on the ground beside me. She spins and faces me; her chest rises and falls rapidly.
“Give me the paper.”
Her lips drag down, and she doesn’t move for a moment. She raises her chin, and I know she’s going to lie. I pull off my tie and let it fall to the floor.
“I don’t have anything.”
Her lies have the darkness that is always there, rising in me. I open my shirt one button at a time. She’s trying to keep her gaze on my face, but her eyes drift lower with each button I open.
“It’s sad, really.” I peel off the shirt and watch color enter her cheeks. “You forget who I am.” The shirt hits the ground, and I kick off my shoes.
She doesn’t answer, but her lip trembled slightly as I walk toward her.
“Take off your clothes, Evie.”
She blinks like the words are hard to process. “You aren’t allowed to touch me.” She speaks with her head high, like that will remind me of who she is. She needs a reminder of who I am.
I grip the blouse on both sides and tear it open. She screams and tries to pull the material back together, but it’s tattered.
“I said take your clothes off.”
Real fear enters her blue eyes, and she tugs off the damaged shirt with trembling fingers. Once it hits the floor, she looks up at me but doesn’t touch her trousers.
Her defiance isn’t something I admire right now. She
