Page 18 of Bronson

Something close to elation wells in my chest. What is wrong with me? Why am I doing this? Why am I committing to have her under my care?

I want her here. Beneath my watchful eye. She needs someone to protect her. To correct her.

I can be that.

Nothing more.

My gaze looks over her one last time. “Goodbye, Paige.”

“Bye,” she calls out over her shoulder. Casually, as if she hasn’t just gone across the knee of a stranger. Then agreed to his demands to become his employee.

This woman is resilient.

She opens the door, letting herself out of the office.

I lean my shoulder against the doorframe of my office. I stare after her as she makes her way through the store. She gives Alice a casual wave as she passes her. I chuckle—she’s struggling to open the heavy front door. She pulls harder, determined.

It barely budges.

A man who was browsing in the store walks over to where Paige stands. He is saying something to Paige that I can’t hear. Offering to help her with the door?

She gives a shake of her head.

She yanks at the door and it opens. Satisfied, she sashays out onto the street.

The man who offered to help her is staring at her ass as she leaves.

I want to kill him.

What on Earth has gotten into me?

I can no longer see her from where I stand.

She’s gone.

Alice shoots me a curious glance. I give her a dismissive nod, closing my door, signaling the topic is not open for discussion.

Heaving a sigh, I go to my desk, pull out my chair, and take a seat. I rest my elbows on the smooth top, placing my head in my hands. Running my hands through my hair, I try to still my mind. It’s reeling, clouded by jumbled thoughts of Paige. Where did she live before the city? Why is she stealing? What is it about her that has me so flustered?

Images of her face flash in my memory. The feel of her trembling body against my chest. The tug of her fingers, pulling at my shirt.

Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I give my head a shake, attempting to dislodge her from my mind.

I open my eyes. My brow rises in disbelief.

The clock is gone.

CHAPTER THREE

Paige

The chilly fall morning air intrudes through the single-paned glass windows in my room. I’m lying in bed. It’s too cold to get up. I tug at the covers, pulling them up and over my head.

I snuggle further into my downy pillows. Is the temperature what keeps me from getting out of this bed? Or do I just not want to face this day?

Today is Saturday.

I peek out from beneath my blanket. Reaching out, I snatch my phone from the nightstand. I quickly close my cocoon back up.