Page 71 of Seeking Vengeance

I swing back to face him, panicked. “Gone where?”

“I put them in a dry-cleaning bag and sent them down the laundry shoot.” He reaches for something beside him, claiming a handful of dark material that almost matches the covers. “You can wear one of my robes.”

He’s trapped me. Not behind bars, but with nudity.

“You’re judging me again,” he warns.

“Because you’re effectively holding me here until I can get my dress back.”

His placid face hardens as he hunches over, elbows back on knees. “I have a room full of clothes if you’re in a hurry to run. Take a sweatshirt. Take my whole fucking wardrobe. I’ll have your clothes sent to your hotel first thing in the morning.” He shoves to his feet. “Forgive me for thinking I was doing you a favor.”

He stalks to the door, shoving the silk robe into my hand as he passes, then escapes into the hall.

Damn it.

I’m not used to this.

I have no familiarity with someone doing things for me out of kindness instead of strategy. The compliments are all new. The affection foreign.

My walls may be down where attraction is concerned, but I guess snap judgment is still my default defense mechanism.

I return the towel to the bathroom while feeling like a complete bitch, then shove my arms into the billowing robe, tying the sash around my waist.

I’m pushing away the best thing that’s happened to me since Stella’s birth and I don’t know how to stop.

Vulnerability isn’t an enjoyable sensation. It’s caustic and cruel, its sharp teeth nipping at my heels. But denying the exposure means giving up on this connection. This passion. Even if it’s temporary.

I pad back along the hall, finding him in the kitchen, one hand on the counter, the other on his scotch glass.

“Want me to arrange a driver?” He peers at me over the rim of his drink before taking a gulp. “You wouldn’t have to wait long.”

Do I go or stay?

He takes another mouthful, leaving the glass dry, then drops it down to the counter with a heavy thud. “You’re not my fucking hostage,” he mutters. “I’m not keeping you here.”

“I know.”

He frowns. “Do you?”

“Yes.” I wince. “And I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”

He remains quiet as he watches me, unappeased.

“I felt stupid when you said I didn’t travel all this way just to sleep with you, because the truth is I kinda did.” My wince deepens. “But it’s even more pathetic than that.”

“What do you mean?” His expression softens.

My throat tightens with the resurfacing rage I harbor toward my brother. “I had a fight with my family and needed to get away. It’s hard to admit I had nowhere else to go.”

The confession hurts. Soul deep.

There’s nobody else in my life. All I have is Stella, my innocent daughter, who I’ll never burden with my troubles.

Matthew releases a long breath and wipes a rough hand down his face. He’s tired of me already. Bored of my bullshit within an hour.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks toward me, probably preparing to reintroduce me to the front door. I bite my lip as he approaches, each step leaving me more vulnerable in an already isolated world, until he stops before me.

His gaze rakes my face, a subtle frown pinching his brows as he conducts the appraisal. “Are you okay?”

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