Page 59 of Forbidden Fate

I force my eyes back to her face.

She steps fully into the room. Her bare feet sink slightly into the faded rug. She looks toward the bed and then back through the bathroom door at her soiled clothes folded neatly on the toilet tank.

“I don’t want to put those back on.”

“I’ll get you something,” I say. “There are extra robes around. I can go now.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” She loosens her fingers on the towel. “I don’t want a robe. I’d rather sleep naked.”

23

ROBIN

Cruz’s jaw drops.

Actually drops.

For one perfect second, the man who kidnapped me, guarded me, threatened me, helped me escape, and then walked me through a brothel forgets how to close his mouth.

The pink towel falls in a puddle around my feet.

He’s already seen me nearly naked, but not like this. Not with lamplight spilling over my skin. Not with clean sheets behind me and drops of water still clinging to me from the shower. Not with my hair damp around my shoulders and my body warm and bare and free of the disgusting grime from that cell.

I’m not vain enough to think beauty makes a woman safe, but I’m not stupid enough to pretend it isn’t power either. I’ve been looked at by men my entire adult life. Dismissed because of it. Underestimated because of it. Wanted because of it. Sometimes hated because of it.

I know what desire does to men.

It makes them careless when they’re usually careful.

And Cruz is careful.

Too careful.

That’s one of the reasons I need to do this.

No lie, I want him.

I hate that I want him, but I can’t deny my feelings. I want the weight of him against me again. I want his hands. His mouth.

But wanting him isn’t the whole reason. It might not even be the biggest reason.

The biggest reason is simple.

I need him close.

Cruz is the only thing standing between me and Vega’s men right now. He can dress it up as guilt or honor or some sudden moral resurrection, but I’m not naïve.

Men change their minds. Men get scared. Men will choose themselves when the bullets start flying.

If Cruz wants me badly enough, maybe he won’t.

If Cruz thinks I might choose him, maybe he’ll keep choosing me.

That’s how I survive. It’s how I survived in Romania, and it’s how I’ll survive now.