His shoulders roll back straight, and my back hits the wall before I realize I’m retreating. Something about him sets off every warning in my body.
The charcoal suit that clings to his frame looks custom tailored to follow every long line of lean muscle beneath.A threat dressed in elegance, my mind mutters.Like they all are.
Honey-blond hair is swept back but messed up just enough and with precision. His face is sharp with sculpted angles along his smooth jaw, while his gold-tinged skin looks like he’s spent too much time on the golf course. And those eyes, a heated blue that remind me of the way ocean water laps over sun-warmed sand. They aren’t piercing and cold; they glint from behind sleek black frames and focus directly on me.
The intensity of his gaze makes my throat tighten because it’s like I’m targeted.
My fingers twitch at my sides, but I don’t move. I couldn’t if I tried.
He hasn’t said a word, and already he’s stealing all the air from the room. His presence is ruthless, as if he were built for this.
He probably was. What’s his job this evening? Deliver me to the man who purchased a night with me. I shiver.
“W-where is he? Are you taking me to him?” My voice comes out weak, but I do my best to straighten and lift my chin to meet his stare.
The corner of his mouth twitches at whatever thought just crossed his mind, and my stomach drops.
The glasses. He’s tall.
Wait.
Isthisthe man who purchased me?
My eyes narrow and then widen.
He’s going to hurt me.
The thought comes fast and uninvited. I’ve known this, braced for it, but part of me assumed it would be some middle-aged man with cigar breath and pockmarks in the hollows of his wrinkled cheeks. Not some handsome paradox in a suit.
My muscles tense, and my shallow breaths skip in time with my hammering heart.
He glances at the water, and suddenly it’s heavy in my belly.
“You’re him, aren’t you? You … you?—”
“Congressman DuPont, your car is here. Are you ready, sir?”
DuPont.
The name rolls around in my mind, collecting all the brief mentions of that name from my memory like dust, but I don’t follow politics. All I know is this man won the election after his grandfather finally retired.
Congressman. I glare at him while a guard motions for me to come out. Senators, congressmen—of course it’s one politician after the other.Sick.
I don’t move.
Congressman DuPont smirks and leans against the hallway wall across from the open door. He tucks his hands into his pockets, watching two security men move into the room, a flicker of amusement playing at his mouth.
“Let’s go,” one guard says.
I know I have no choice. I know there’s no way out of this—it’ll be worse if I try to escape—but I freeze, conscious of the scraps of clothing barely covering my body. The other guard drags his tongue across his lower lip, unhurried, like he’s savoring a taste of something he can only imagine. His smile curls into cruelty as he snaps out his hand and wraps it around my wrist.
I shriek as he drags me into him, and the other guard hooks an elbow through my other arm. They escort me out, ushering me to stand close to the congressman.
I look up at him, the scent of soap and rain-soaked cotton wafting up my nose. He ignores me, eyes fixed on the security guard who grabbed me. His jaw works back and forth, and his nostrils flare while his whole body remains predatory still.
“Sir?” the man asks. “Are you ready?”
The congressman steps forward, pushing past me down the hall. Both security men tuck me close to them and haul after him.
