Page 91 of Beautiful Obsessions
My doctor worked out of an unmarked suite, dealing with the kind of people that had more dollars than sense, and didn’t want questions asked.
Exactly how he liked it.And exactly what I needed.
Raze’s men were out front.
It seemed like there was an army of them.And he insisted I carried them with me everywhere.
The smallest mercy was that they remained outside, stationed by the front door of the building.
Because logically, that’s where a possible threat would come from.
The front.Always the main entry.
I stepped out of the consulting room, file tucked under my arm, mind still spinning from what I’d just confirmed—what I was now carrying inside me—and all the ways it was about to change everything.
Which is exactly why I didn’t notice the stranger walking toward me.
My head was somewhere else—spinning, heavy, choking on a future I couldn’t see, let alone control.
He came out of nowhere.
One second I was walking.The next, a hand slammed over my mouth—hot, suffocating, cutting off the air before I could even take a breath.
My body reacted before my mind caught up.
My elbow went back hard.
My heel down slammed down sharp.
I drove it straight into his foot, twisting with everything I had.The thin spike of my heel bit through leather and into bone, and for once, I was grateful for the stupid things.Heels as weapons.A flash of irritation cut through the adrenaline—because I knew, sooner or later, I’d have to give them up.Trade them for something softer.Safer.Practical.
If I lived long enough for that to matter.
Right now, all I had was instinct, will, and the sinking realization that I was on my own.
As a man tried to snatch me.
He grunted, his grip tightening instead of loosening.
“Easy,” he muttered against my ear, voice thick with an accent I didn’t recognize.“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
I bit his hand hard.
He swore, jerking back just enough for me to suck in a breath—and then the world went dark.
Rough fabric dragged over my head, and I struggled ferociously, preventing it from covering my face.The smell of hessian hit instantly—damp, stale, suffocating.
My stomach flipped violently.I turned my head just in time and threw up.Right down the front of him.
There was a beat of stunned silence.Then the man cursed.
“Fuck’s sake!”
I coughed, wiping my mouth against my shoulder, breath ragged.
He swore again, something sharp and foreign, before he yanked the sack over my head and shoved me forward.
“Move,” he snapped.
