Immediately, I tense up. “Reporters? There shouldn’t be any.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Grace sighs. “They snuck in somehow. Be on your best behavior.”
“Fine, fine,” I nod. “I’ll go to the restroom quickly.”
“If you need a moment alone, I’d suggest taking the elevator and going to the one on the third floor. Fewer people.”
“Good point, thanks.”
With a sigh, I turn on my heel and walk toward the elevator, pressing the button. I tap my foot against the floor impatiently, checking my phone for time every so often. As soon as the elevatorarrives, I step inside, pressing the button for the third floor.
I lean against the wall of the elevator, my arms crossed in front of me. The elevator stops on the second floor, and I roll my eyes at the thought of not having a single moment of peace tonight.
But then the door opens and reveals Soren.
He steps inside immediately, turning his back to me, and pressing the button to close the door. Then, as soon as we start moving up, he presses the pause button, and we’re caught mid-floor. My eyes widen, and I push myself off the wall.
“What are you doing?”
He finally turns to face me, rage flooding his features. His jaw is clenched tightly, and the glare filled with pure rage makes me falter in my steps. Soren takes two menacing steps toward me, his towering body forcing me to look up.
“Did you have fun, Sloane?”
I narrow my eyes. “Did I have fun doing what?”
I’m unsure why, but that alone makes him snap. In an instant, his hand is wrapped around my throat, and he’s slamming me against the wall behind me. I gasp for air, and Soren leans in, his face an inch away from mine.
“You know, Princess,” he speaks in a lower tone, the mocking tune behind the nickname sending a wave of irritation down my body. “You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?”
“I didn’t do anything?”
Soren chuckles, his pupils dilating. Breath hitches in my throat, and he squeezes my neck a little firmer. He’s looking right into my eyes, and he’s barely blinking. This scene is too bizarre for me to comprehend.
“Of course,” he mutters. “Miss Perfect never does anything,does she?”
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about, or are you going to be vague and waste my time all evening?”
“He had his hands all over you, Sloane.”
I blink, taken aback. Then something warm spreads through my chest, and I feel the butterflies that slowly start dancing. My brows narrow, and I try my best to stop the trembling of my body.
“Are you jealous, Soren?”
“Jealous? No,” he chuckles, then leans in further. His head dips to my exposed shoulder, the very same spot I spent two hours trying to cover up the remaining marks the bastard left on me during our time at the camp. He presses soft kisses all along the line of my throat, then goes down, nibbling on my collarbone. “I’m very territorial, Princess.”
“There’s nothing to be territorial about, Soren,” I grit out. “I’m not yours to be so possessive of.”
“Oh, but you are,” he mutters, then pulls back to look at me directly. “The moment you allowed me to fuck you, you became mine. Now, whether you accept it or not is a ‘you’ problem, really.”
“Soren…” I warn, though my voice comes out as a desperate, soft plea.
His hand moves from my throat, gently tracing the outline of my collarbone. The other one slowly travels down to my mid-thigh, and he scrunches the fabric of my dress in his hand, then starts pulling it up, until he can touch my bare inner thigh.
“Yes, Princess?” He mutters, his eyes transfixed on the way his thumb is rubbing the inside of my thigh.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. I fail miserably, and Soren’s eyes flick up to meet mine, a wicked gleam hidden behind his hazel eyes.
“I’m just reminding you of who you belong to, Princess.Because it seems like you’ve forgotten.”
