Page 6 of Trapped

She put her hand on my arm. Her fingers skimmed my jacket, but a shot of adrenaline went straight to my chest. I watched her, heat twisting in my gut. Seduction was such a cheap trick, but damn if I wasn’t already imagining her on my desk.

I clenched my jaw. “You know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Her mouth twitched. “I do.”

My attention flicked to her deep red lips.If you think you can use me, you better be ready to pay up. I stood, palming the small of her back.

“Let’s talk in my office.”

She smiled. “Lead the way.”

THREE

DELILAH

Breathe.

I forced myself to inhale as I followed Santino into a small office. The air felt heavier in here, but the suffocating feeling didn’t come from the room.

He was gorgeous. No one told me Santino had an athlete’s body honed from years of brutality, or that he stood at an imposing height that made the office seem smaller. His tanned skin was tempting, and his voice was like silk. His raven black hair blended into the shadows.

Get a grip, Delilah.

But getting locked in a room with him wasn’t doing anything for my nerves.

Santino’s palm slipped from my back as he shut the door with a soft click. He turned around, his movements rigid. His expression clouded with suspicion as he gave me a once-over. Then his glance fell to my legs, and his mouth softened.

He pulled out a chair. “Sit.”

I sank into the wooden chair.

He stepped around me and shrugged off his jacket. A white dress shirt clung to his chest, stretching over broad muscles. He folded the jacket over the chair and sat. He rolled up his sleeves. Each roll exposed thick forearms, corded with veins and tattoos. My heart throbbed as I studied them.

“So, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“I need help leaving my fiancé.”

Santino’s brow lifted.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the edge of the chair. “I was pushed into an engagement. My father doesn’t care about what I want. His only concern is how it’ll benefit the Bratva, but I can’t go through with it.”

He darkened. “Why?”

“My fiancé is an abusive piece of shit.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dimitri Petrova.”

He crossed his arms. “You don’t look like a woman who needs saving. What’s stopping you from walking away?”

“Dimitri will kill me. And if he doesn’t, my dad will do it for him.”

“Who’s your dad?”

“Mikhail. He’s Pakhan.”

His stare drilled into me. “You know what kind of risk you’re taking just being here, right?”

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