Page 67 of His to Keep
“Tell me something, Princess... Do I look like the kind of man who doesany-damn-thinghe doesn’t want to do?”
I drum my fingertips against my thighs as I wait for her to reply. But stubborn little thing that she is, Scarlet keeps her lips sealed shut and her eyes fixed firmly on her pink-painted toes.
After a few minutes, my patience runs out, and I crowd her.
I glide my index and middle fingers up the smooth column of her neck, all the way to her chin, stroking my thumb along her jaw before tilting her gaze up to mine. “Whatever the fuck you’re thinking—stop it. Right now.”
She jerks her chin out of my hold and steps back from me, but I follow, advancing until her back’s to the wall, and I’m invading every ounce of personal space she has. “You're coming with me, Scarlet Armstrong. You're gonna let me fucking protect you.”
“I don’t need?—”
“We both know you’re too damn stubborn to ask for what you need.” I cup her cheek with a tenderness I didn’t know I possessed. “You’re also too smart and strong to let Atlas’s words get to you. He was out of line, and I plan on making sure he knows it.”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Ellis.”
“You’re goddamn right you don’t. You’re a force to be reckoned with. But I’m still gonna talk to him. Deep down, he knows he was out of line.”
She starts to argue, but I press my index finger to her lips, shushing her. “That’s enough of that. You wanna argue? Bet. Once we’re back at my place, we can argue until we’re both blue in the face. But right now, I need you to buck up and pack a bag. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me, and I’m gonna make sure we get through this. Together.”
She crosses her arms, glaring up at me like a petulant child. If I didn’t think she’d clock me, I’d take her over my knee.
“You know what? Forget it. I'll pack. Point me toward a bag.”
She gestures limply toward her bedroom. “In the closet.”
I pivot on my heel and head straight for her room, a man on a mission. I tiptoe around her closet door, which is barely hanging on the track. It takes a minute, but, eventually, I find a black duffel bag beneath all of the clothes piled on the floor.
“This work?” I ask, holding the bag triumphantly overhead.
“Sure.” She sounds thoroughly exhausted, but I’ll worry about that later, once we’re out of this hellhole. Hell, I’ll even run her a bath if she wants.
The fuck... where did that thought come from?Scarlet is a grown-ass woman and doesn’t need me to run her a bath. Although... given how her last shower went at my place, maybe supervision isn’t the worst idea in the world.
I start throwing things haphazardly into the bag, not even paying attention to what I’m grabbing—that is until I open her top drawer, only to find it empty.
“Uh, Scar...”
“What?” she snaps. “Surely you’re not scared of my panty drawer.”
“Definitely not.” I reach back and scratch the back of my neck. “But it’s, um, empty.”
Her hands fly to her mouth, as she sucks in a sharp breath. “What do you mean empty?”
“I mean empty.” I pull the drawer off the tracks and hold it upside down.
“You’re telling me that psycho stole my underwear?”
“It would appear so.”
I’m expecting her to shout, yell, something—anything other than cry. But big, fat tears roll down her cheeks as she collapses to the floor.
I rush to catch her, but it’s no use. She curls in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest and burying her face there.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I kneel down next to her, laying my palm against her shoulder while she sobs.
“Is it, though?” she rasps. “Because it really doesn’t feel like it.”
“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend to know how you feel right now. I don’t want to placate or patronize you. So, feel however you need to. But hear me when I say itwillbe okay.” The urge to pull her onto my lap strikes, and instead of fighting it, I drop down the rest of the way to the floor and give in.
