Page 5 of Beautiful Villain
I froze instantly, every muscle locking as my brain sprinted through worst-case scenarios with the enthusiasm of an overachiever.Kidnapped.Murdered.Sold.Re-delivered to the altar with a stern lecture and a knife in my back.
Slowly, carefully, I turned my head.
The man who’d hit me stood by the window, light spilling over his shoulders, surrounding him much like I imagined a halo would.Although, there didn’t appear to be anything angelic about him.Fantastic.
Of all the men in the city I could wake up next to, it had to be the one who’d introduced my body to a moving vehicle.
His jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms like he was settling in for manual labor—or murder.It was hard to tell with a body like that.The light caught on the watch at his wrist; it looked like it had been custom-built around him and politely refused to function for anyone else.
Dark lines of ink traced over his hands and climbed his forearms, disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt like secrets.There was nothing accidental or careless about them.They spoke of permanence and suggested commitment wasn’t something he struggled with.
He wasn’t looking at me.
He was watching the street through the window, posture loose, casual, like a man waiting for a takeaway order.Except something about the way he stood—balanced, ready—told me that if I made a break for it, I’d get maybe three heroic steps before he caught me and politely returned me to the couch like a misbehaving cat.
My pulse kicked up, traitorous and loud, like it had its own agenda.
“Where am I?”I croaked.My throat burned, each word scraping its way out like it resented being involved.
“Alive,” he said calmly.“Which is more than you’d be if I’d left you where you fell.”
Fair.Rude, but fair.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly too dry.“Why didn’t you?”
That got his attention.
He turned, finally facing me, and the air in the room seemed to shift with him.Control was stitched into every line of his face, every measured movement.Like restraint wasn’t something he practiced, but something he was born fluent in.
He’s beautifully controlled.
Control could have been his middle name.A man used to being obeyed, not questioned.
Which was unfortunate for me, because I had a long history of making very poor life choices around men like that.
On closer inspection, he was… devastating.Dark hair, neatly cut, thick and black and effortlessly luxurious.His eyes were, too—cold, sharp, and unsettlingly mesmerizing.I had to be careful not to get lost in them, because something told me getting lost there would be a very bad idea.
His voice cut through my lust-fuelled haze.
“I don’t enjoy witnesses,” he said.“You were bleeding in the middle of the road.”
“That’s it?”My voice shook despite my best efforts.“You hit me with your car and abducted me because you were worried about eyewitnesses?”
“Yes.”
He said it so simply that his honesty stunned me.
I pushed myself upright despite the protest from my body.Pain flared bright behind my eyes, but I held on.
“I need to leave.”
“No, you don’t.”
My heart slammed.“I’m supposed to be getting married,” I said, like that should be enough to make him open the door and wave me through.
His eyes stayed on my face a second too long, then slid down my body and stopped on what was left of my dress.
“In that?”he asked, somewhat disgusted.
