Page 19 of Beautiful Villain
Time passed.Enough of it, before I stepped into the room.
The shift was immediate.Chairs scraped.Cards froze mid-air.Four grown men jumped like they’d been caught stealing from the till.
“Boss,” Larry said quickly, already standing.
Dunn swore under his breath.
I lifted a hand, palm down.
“Relax,” I said.They eased—uncertain—but then sat back down carefully.I nodded once.“Carry on.”
Their relief was almost embarrassing.My attention returned to her.
She’d gone still, awareness snapping into place without panic.She turned to face me, posture composed, eyes sharp.No scrambling.No apologies.She didn’t ask permission to exist.
“Mikayla,” I said.“Come with me.”
She rose smoothly from the chair and crossed the room to meet me.As she passed, Larry offered her a sheepish smile.She returned it without lingering.
At the doorway, I placed my hand at the small of her back, a silent instruction as I steered her away from the room.She stiffened for half a second.Then she moved with me.
She was wearing a bathrobe.A fucking bathrobe, with half her body on display.The tie at the waist was the only thing standing between her and chaos.The sight of it did something inconvenient to my focus.Not because of what it revealed—but because of what it didn’t.
I didn’t like my men looking at her like that.Curious.Amused.Interested.They were loyal.Disciplined.But loyalty didn’t make them blind, and she was… noticeable.That was a problem.
“First order of the day,” I said evenly as we walked, “is to get you some clothes.”
She glanced up at me, curls brushing her cheek.“I need to choose them.”
The words came out careful.But there was discomfort underneath them, tight and immediate.
“I can have someone bring?—”
“I’d rather do it myself,” she said quickly.Then slower, like she was bracing for correction.“If I can.”
I stopped walking abruptly.
I looked down at her, searching for the angle I was missing.Fear, yes—but not of me.It was something internal.Her shoulders were squared like she expected pushback, her chin lifted in defiance that wasn’t rehearsed.
Suspicion slid into place.
“What are you afraid of?”I asked.
Her fingers tightened in the fabric of the robe before she caught herself and shoved her hands into the pockets.
“Nothing.”
That was a lie.A small one.The kind people told when the truth felt stupid to say out loud.
“I don’t understand,” I said slowly, honestly.
“I know,” she replied, just as quietly.
I studied her closely.The curve of her hips under the robe.The width of her shoulders she seemed determined to hide.The way she stood, tense and careful, like she was already apologizing for taking up space.
Understanding came quietly, catching me off guard.
Ah.
