WREN
I nearly choke on the suggestion hanging in the air between me and these two rough and tumble men—men that should terrify me as much as the others outside did, but the way Saint looks at me…
How the heat spreading through my middle screams that I’m undeniably attracted to him…
Regardless of those things, he doesn’t scare me. There’s something safe about him.
And they’re waiting for me to object, agree,something.
I smooth my hands down my tattered dress and regroup. “And what would that entail?”
Judge chuckles low, trying to cover it by clearing his throat. I bet he puts Saint through the ropes.
But Saint is the one to answer me, those hazel eyes warm but not quite accessible. “It would be in name only. I won’t demand anything from you.”
That should be a reassurance, and it is, but I’m also oddly disappointed by the proclamation. I’m sure being tied to a young socialite is the last thing he wants. Especially since the gray in his hair and beard, and lines around his eyes mean he’s probably old enough to be my dad.
I might be developing a daddy complex.
“My claim on you would also extend your safety amongst my men. They won’t touch you either.” The way he saysclaimhas my heartbeat picking up.
I nod this time, my voice lost in the tumult of emotions I’ve flashed through today. That’s actually a good deal. Better than what I imagined when I stumbled upon this place.
“And in return, you won’t stick your nose in our business, you won’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, and you’ll be useful or you’ll stay out of the way. Understood?”
My shoulders pull back again because I’ve never been particularly useful, but I’m excellent at staying out of the way, of being part of the decor rather than having any agency. “I understand.”
“Good. Judge will you show you where you can get cleaned up, and we’ll get you a change of clothes and some food while we arrange things.”
Arrange things. It’s an echo to my old life, but I stand, ready to follow Judge, trying to hide my wince as I put pressure on my newly cleaned and bandaged feet.
In an instant, I’m off the ground and pressed into a nicely muscled chest. “Call Justice. Get him here as soon as he’s able.”
Saint marches out of his office with me in his arms. So much for Judge taking me anywhere. My hands curl into his vest, waiting for the niceties to fall away.
“I’m not going to drop you.” His voice is a grumble, and his hands tighten around my knees and back. I can feel his strength. How many damsels does he carry around like this?
“Okay.” But my grip doesn’t loosen. Maybe I just need something to hold on to, even if only for a minute. It’s not like I can ask him to hold me while I breakdown.
It’s not like I’ve ever had someone to do that for me.
Saint is warm, and his spicy scent keeps me in the present. His full, trimmed salt and pepper beard calls to me, making my fingers itch to see how soft it is.
We descend some stairs and walk down a few winding hallways before he steps into a room at the end—it’s simple, a bed, a dresser, and an ensuite bathroom.
He sets me down on the bed, and he’s far more gentle than I expect.
Ruffling through a drawer, he pulls some clothes free and a towel. “Get clean and change.”
He’s on his way back out the door, but I stop him. “Wait.”
Saint turns, gaze dark as he looks back at me.
“I—” I swallow hard and take a deep breath. “I need help with my dress. The buttons.”
His hesitation burns me up inside, but he steps forward again, slowly, delicately, popping open the button at the top. Hisknuckle barely grazes my spine in the process, and I shiver, my nipples hardening under my soft bodice.
He grunts softly, almost like a reprimand.
