Page 80 of Pretty Little Threats

My breath heaves out of me.

The security system is set up to alert me when it’s compromised. It’s how I knew Rose was coming all those nights ago, but the system isn’t infallible. It’s entirely possible yet another mercenary has broken in. Soft whines filter under her door and my chest constricts. Fuck. I hate that sound. I open the door, scanning the room before pointing the gun at the bed.

But Rose is alone.

Deep in whatever nightmare torments her.

I search the room again, just in case, but the furniture is the only thing lurking in the shadows. When I’m sure no one else is here, I release a harsh exhale and stop beside the bed, pulse still racing from the surge of adrenaline, even as relief loosens my shoulder muscles.

Rose’s eyebrows are pinched together, and her chest is heaving as she pants. Her nails dig into her pillow as she thrashes. “Mama!”

Sighing, I put the safety on, set the gun on the bedside table, and slide the blanket down. She’s wearing a pajama set that does nothing to hide her curves. I force myself to look away—to ignore the relief of knowing she’s safe—andscoop Rose up. Her musky, amber perfume fills my nostrils, and I breathe her in, trying to ground myself to the moment. She’s not in danger. No one’s broken in.

Against all better judgment, I carry her to my room. My jaw is clenched so tight, my head hurts. I had no intention of doing this again. She’s made it clear she’s not mine to protect, but as she releases a soft breath against my neck and it tickles over my skin, fierce possessiveness rolls over me.

Roseismine. She’s a Richardson. She’s wearing my mom’s ring.

I place her on my bed, tuck her beneath my sheet and blanket, pull her against my body, and exhale as she relaxes against me, her breaths evening out. I can practically imagine the snarl on her face when I tell her that it was the Beast of NYC who kept her safe from the monsters inside her head.

Even though she’ll hate to admit it, some part of her trusts me and maybe, one day, the rest of her will too.

twenty-six

ROSE

I wakeup in Dare’s bed again, but before I can get annoyed, a soft towel crashes into my chest. My gaze flies up to meet Dare’s hardened stare. He’s already dressed for the day. The Armani suit clings to his muscles in all the right ways, and his blond hair is slightly unkempt, contradicting his chosen attire. His clothes are giving money and success, while his hair screamsI don’t give a fuck. Dare studies my face for a moment, then looks away.

“Get ready.”

Anger boils inside of me. “Excuse me?”

“You’re coming with me to work.”

“I’m sorry. I missed the part where you’re allowed to tell me what to do.”

Dare’s lips twitch, his eyes flitting back to mine. “You wanted to snoop, right? Come with me, and you can snoop all you like.” The bastard leaves without another word.

I scowl after him, wondering what his game is. There’s no way he’ll give me the access I really need, but if I can getinside and figure out what systems they use, Cassia might be able to help me.

Pushing out of the bed, I shower in the en suite and storm into the closet to get dressed. I pause when I spot a few new dresses and pairs of shoes. All brand names. All expensive. All in my size. All annoyingly my style.

Dare clears his throat.

I scowl at him, fingers tightening on the soft towel I hold around myself. “You can’t bribe me with pretty clothes.”

“No, but I can admire you in them. Wear the green one.”

Huffing, I shake my head. “You have some nerve.”

“You’re wasting time,” he says, expression bored. His hands are shoved into his pockets, the very picture of unbothered.

I drop the towel, ignoring him but acutely aware of the hot touch of his eyes roving over my skin. It’s been weeks since we last fucked. Every morning, we wake up tangled, aroused, and fighting to pretend like it was nothing. If he’s as horny as I am, I know how to torture him.

Bending, I take my time grabbing a thong and bra, giving him a full view of my ass.

“Rose.”

My lips curling, I straighten, sliding the thong on and then clasping the bra before tossing him a haughty look. His eyes are twin embers, burning with desire, but his jaw clenches and he stays rooted to the spot.That’s right. Fight the desire. Though the green dress is beautiful, there’s no way I’m following his demands. He accused me of being my dad’s puppet, and now he wants me to be his? I think not.

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