Page 74 of Sold to Her Enemy

He cages me against the wall; his hand slithers up my throat, grabbing my chin. “Mine.”

He kisses me like he’s a man possessed, all need, and lust, and want.

I melt at his touch, open my mouth, and allow his tongue to take up all the space. His eyes soften as they become lighter, and he breaks off the kiss, leaving me needy.

His phone rings, and he curses. Grabbing my shoulder, he turns me toward the bathroom.

“I want you freshly showered. You have ten minutes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He’s on his phone, pacing in front of the long windows, and doesn’t acknowledge me.

I’m freezing, the adrenaline wearing off from the scene. I’m so grateful he ordered me to shower, because I feel grubby.

I grab a clean sponge from the bathroom shelf and squirt some of his body wash into it. I stand under the warm water, letting the spray hit every part of me.

I scrub, feeling the welt of the crop. The areas where the zapper got me are sensitive, but my skin is no longer red, and there are no lasting marks.

After tonight, I’m free.

My heart gallops at the thought.

My mind starts spinning with plans and ideas.

I could live anywhere.

It’s enough money that I don’t have to write that exam, but being a vet has always been my dream. I can find where Penelope is and buy her. I don’t want to think of the possibility that she isn’t alive and well.

We could move back to Boston.

I stop the water, step out, and grab a towel.

And the hypothetical crash down on me with the hard, cool reality.

A lot of people felt betrayed by my father and what he was accused of doing. His lab is gone. MM Industries doesn’t exist.

I don’t think I could show my face in Boston again. Not to live comfortably.

My heart squeezes with grief.

I miss Grace so much. She’d always talked about going back to Oregon.

I could go there or live for a year in Florence.

Somehow, these thoughts fall flat; they don’t give me the crazy heart-thumping surge that thinking of returning home did.

“Mckenna! That’s ten minutes.” Adrian pulls open the bathroom door.

“I’m ready.”

“What’s wrong?”

The man could always read me. I remember being at Ava’s birthday party one year, and I was standing by myself because Ava had personalized nail polish for everyone except for me. I didn’t know how to deal with it when Adrian handed me a packet of chips and told me my nails were fine, anyway.

I had tried to hide how upset I was by it from everyone. I knew if I brought up the missing nail polish to Jackie–because there was no way Ava’s mom didn’t have one for me- it would suddenly be found, and it would be my fault for misplacing it. But Adrian saw the whole thing happen.

“I was thinking about where I was going to go next and how I couldn’t go home…I couldn’t go back to Boston.”

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