Page 17 of Sold to the Investor

I keep one arm around Sophia and pull out my phone with the other, dialing the number of a trusted friend who works in personal security.

“Jackson—I have a job for you, are you available right away?”

He’s at my house within the hour, and I explain the situation. “Take him away and get him off my property. And then when you return I’ll need protection for Sophia. I hadn’t realized she’d need a bodyguard when on my own property. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Sophia gasps, looking up from where she’s curled up on the couch with a cup of tea. “A bodyguard—Grayson, is that really necessary?”

I walk over to her and brush her hair away from her face. “I won’t allow him to come anywhere near you again. You’ll be safe—I swear it.”

She looks like she wants to defend her brother again, but then she shivers under my touch and nods her head. “Alright.” She smiles softly. “Thank you.”

“Good girl,” I whisper, kissing her temple.

Jackson goes over and picks Sophia’s brother up from the floor. Before he leaves, I tell him, “Take him to the hospital first andsend me the bill.” I’m only doing this out of consideration for Sophia.

After they leave, I turn my attention to Sophia, lifting her up and carrying her upstairs. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The first thing I do after I carry her upstairs is take care of her bruised knees. They’re red and swollen. “Did he also do this to you?” I ask her.

“No, I crashed into the kitchen stool as I was getting away from him.”

I look up at her. Is she telling the truth? Or is she trying to protect her brother?

“It’s true,” she insists.

I work quietly. I get out the first aid box and clean and bandage the wounds on her knees. Then I proceed to clean the cut at the corner of her lips. I know it’s from Daryl hitting her face. My hand trembles with the force of my anger.

Then my gaze shifts up, meeting hers. She looks scared and vulnerable, and that melts my fury like it never existed. I was never really angry at her, only at her brother and how she chose to defend him. Looking at her now, her hazel eyes bright with pain, the overwhelming urge to protect her is stronger than ever.

I draw her a hot bath and watch her gingerly undress, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of her body. Bruises mar her creamy flesh. Some are red and swollen while some have turned a shade of purple. I stiffen as rage festers inside me, growing from a deep well of protectiveness.

“Grayson,” Sophia calls to me. Her voice is thin and far away as I continue to stare at her bruised flesh.

I am her protector. I failed her.

“Grayson,” she snaps, and I look down at her. “It’s not your fault,” she beseeches me.

I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone,” I state.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“You defended him. He did this to you and yet you protected him,” I whisper, unable to understand.

I know she was only thinking of him as her brother. Still, I can’t help the anger warring inside me. It makes me want to punch someone, or lash out.

I close my eyes. I can’t be around her in this state. “I’m sorry, baby. Enjoy your bath. I’ll be in my office,” I say gruffly.

“I don’t want to be by myself, can you join me?” she asks just as I’m about to leave the bathroom.

Her tone is soft and hesitant. I can’t refuse her. “Okay.”

I help her get into the tub. I wet the sponge with shampoo and gently scrub it all over her body, tracing her curves. It’s a soothing activity that gradually eases my anger.

As I towel her dry, she draws me close and kisses me deeply. The soft smell of fruit-scented soap still hangs heavy on her.

“I’m really sorry about today,” she says.

“Don’t worry about it, Sophia. None of it is your fault.”

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