She shuddered. “No one did.”
Picking her up, he carried her into the bathroom.
“I can walk,” she protested. “You’ll get a sore back.”
“I’m unsure if you’re insulting me or yourself when you say that,” Jared told her.
She opened her mouth but he kept talking.
“And you’re not allowed to do either so I suggest you tread very carefully.”
“Well, rat-bums,” she muttered. “How fit are you?”
“Fit enough to carry you for as long as I need to.”
And there went her stomach again, swooping and spinning.
There was something wrong with her. She shouldn’t want this man like she did.
He’s keeping you here against your will.
Although did you come straight out and ask to leave?
Do you want to leave?
Of course I do. Why would I want to stay here?
With two gorgeous, sexy, handsome, controlling, bossy, at times terrifying men?
“What would you say if I said I wanted to leave? Right now?” she asked.
He set her down on the countertop. “I should let you go. I am not my father. But I don’t like that you were so unprotected. I need to have a chat with Zander.”
A hint of disappointment sparked.
What had she been expecting him to say? That he wanted her to stay?
Urgh. You’re acting like an idiot.
She had to have Stockholm Syndrome.
“I’ll have to make sure that Zander doesn’t try to retaliate.”
Yeah, that sounded like something Zander would do.
She couldn’t believe she was in this situation again. Even though he wasn’t Fergus and neither of them had hurt her . . . it still felt like the walls were closing in.
This room was nicer than the last one.
But it was still a prison.
Her breathing started coming in short pants and the world around her began to spin.
“Angie? What’s wrong? Can’t you breathe? Fuck. Hold on, baby. Just hold on.”
“I’ve got the IV set up. What’s wrong?” North asked.
“Baby, listen to me. I need you to breathe.”
