Page 180 of Damsel in Disguise

I shake my head, unable to stop the genuine smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. It must be the alcohol I had earlier tonight that loosened me up.

52. IMPRESSION

alistair

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I’m about to scoop her into my arms and carry her toward the in-suite bathroom when a violent knock rattles through the apartment.

She startles instantly, scrambling upright and grabs the bedsheet, clutching it over her naked body.

“Were you expecting someone?”

“No,” worry flashes across her face, though it does nothing to diminish the sight of her—flushed, disheveled, and freshly wrecked by me.

I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night worshipping that sight if not for the insistent pounding at the door.

“I’ll get that,” I say, already pulling up my pants and heading toward the bedroom door. “You stay here.”

Before she can argue or insist on coming with me, I’m already stepping outside and clicking the door shut behind me.

The knocking continues as I make my way through the apartment toward the main entrance.

“Ariella, open the goddamn door,” a male voice shouts from the other side. Sounds familiar.

I glance through the peephole and find two impeccably dressed men waiting on the other side. Where have I seen them before?

Oh. I immediately tamp down the grin threatening to break free across my face.

Without further delay, I unlock the door and pull it open, stepping aside to let them in although I’m shirtless and have very recently fucked their sister.

Asher Keinston strides in first, Adrian Keinston following close behind without sparing me so much as a glance.

The amount of alcohol in my system might have dulled the edges of my judgment, but not enough to miss what stands in front of me.

Well-dressed monsters wearing perfectly tailored Tom Ford suits. I can practically see the blood staining their hands.

“Ari—” Asher is already halfway to shouting for her when he finally registers my presence.

Adrian sweeps his gaze over me from head to toe, his brows drawing together in immediate recognition.

Now that’s interesting.

“Who the fuck are you?” Asher demands. “And why are you at my sister’s place like this?” his hand already reaches for the suppressor tucked behind.

Asher doesn’t wait for an answer. He crosses the space in a single stride and points the gun right at my forehead.

It’s not the weapon that matters but the intent behind it.

“What did you do to her?” he growls low, his voice stripped of all cockiness now.

Adrian moves immediately after him. He’s not stopping him, just controlling the angle.

“Where’s Ariella?” Adrian asks me with eerie calmness that would send any other man to their knees, begging for mercy.

Asher takes a step ahead and presses the cool barrel on the dead center of my forehead, ready to blow my brains away at any second now.

My silence only triggers his anger.