He laid her down with infinite care but looked at her with utter annoyance. “Don’t move.”
A moment later, the lock clicked. This time, the key slid into his pocket.
She swallowed and winced. He saw, and his glare hardened another degree.
Catching her hand, he pushed up her sleeve. She tugged back her arm?—
“Do not.” His voice was a hard command that promised consequences she didn’t want to discover.
He turned her wrist, examining the area where her arm had blistered. It could have been worse. Just some singed hair and a small burn.
He sighed as if deeply inconvenienced. “Stay.”
“I’m not a dog,” she rasped, throat still ravaged.
“I’m aware. Dogs obey.” His gaze lifted to something on the wall—the brass bear she’d noticed earlier, its eyes fixed on the bed. On her.
Without a word, he crossed the room in a few swift strides. Black tape dangled loose from the fixture, and he pressed it back over the bear’s eyes, sealing them shut with deliberate care.
A camera. She’d suspected as much when she searched the room, but seeing him cover it now, seeing the hard set of his jaw as he did it?—
“They can’t see you now.” His voice came out rough, almost angry.
No witnesses. She wasn’t sure if that should make her feel safer or more terrified.
He went to the bar and poured a glass of water. “Up.” He pulled her into a seated position before giving her the chance to move on her own. “Drink.”
She took the glass and sipped slowly, the cool water soothing her throat instantly.
He lifted a box from the floor by the nightstand and set it on the bed.
“What’s that?”
He looked at her then, eyes sharp and full of impatience. “You don’t want a doctor? You get me.” He removed the empty glass from her hands and set it aside. “Lie back.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Claimed
The glass slammed down on the table harder than intended. “Lie back. And don’t you dare flinch after what you just pulled.”
Fury coiled through his chest like a living thing, cold and patient. She had ransacked his room. Burned his records. Seen his private list. And then she’d run, as if he were the monster, when everything he’d done tonight had been to protect her.
His jaw ached from clenching.
Ten years of working with the Volkovs and never before had any tribute dared to do what she did. She humiliated him.
He saved her from Welles, carried her back here, gave her a warm bath and a place to rest, fed her, clothed her, and she repaid him by tearing his sanctuary apart.
“Don’t move.” The words came out flat. Controlled. A warning.
Her chin lifted, defiance flickering in her eyes despite the tremor in her limbs. She opened her mouth?—
“Not one word.” He was terrified of what he might do if she defied him again.
Needing a moment to calm down, he crossed the suite, stepping over shreds of documents that littered the floor like fallen feathers, and lifted the gutted leather box off the floor. Empty. Useless.
“You’ve done enough damage for one evening.” He’d have to have every file reprinted. Did she honestly think these were the only copies?
