Page 4 of Love Her

I wasn’t the same girl I was when I was thirteen—or even that I’d been two months ago. I’d changed, I’d grown—I’d toughened up. Mostly. But some things I hadn’t been able to leave behind. I still read romance books before going to sleep each night, even though Rhaim had made me delete my main Instagram account.

And I was still afraid, deeply, deathly afraid, of the dark.

Luckily the upper floor of my father’s penthouse had low safety lights installed, as befitted a wealthy man in their seventies.

The bathroom was another matter, though. I didn’t see any light around the doorframe. Was Rhaim in there with the lights off, like the serial killer I was fairly sure he was? If he was, why did he want to be in the dark in there, with me?

I broke out in a cold, fearful sweat and then cursed at myself—this dress was silk, stains would show if I didn’t get the jacket off quickly.

Then I stepped forward, a floorboard squeaked, and the door opened up, revealing a narrow, brightly lit marble space inside, and a very ominous man standing in front of it.

“About time,” Rhaim mouthed, and reached for me.

He grabbed my wrist and hauled me forward, looking over my shoulder as he closed the door—for what—spies? Was this corporate espionage bullshit?

Had Corvo’s messy history been found out—did someoneelseknow where the bodies were buried?

Before I could ask him, he brought his face nearer to mine, and sniffed, then pulled back with a frown and let me go. “You smell like wine. Has it gone to your head yet?”

I yanked off my jacket and crossed my arms, using it as an ineffectual shield to cover me. “You don’t get to care! You can’t just call me like a dog! What the fuck?”

“Things have changed,” he said, with a low growl.

I gawked at him, my mouth open, suddenly scared. “What?”

“You don’t get to know.” He was still standing much too close, even if we weren’t touching, all silent intensity.

“What’s going on, Rhaim?” I asked in a quiet voice.

“I. Need. You.”

He said each word like it was a separate sentence—and like it pained him to give them voice. And while part of me knewI should coquettishly tease him and take my upper-hand, such as it was, and make him pay—it was the earnest girl in me that spoke.

“Really?”

His shoulders sank, and I watched tension flow out of his body, only to be replaced with raw hunger. “Yes.”

“How?” I breathed.

“Turn around, bend over that sink, and pull up your pretty dress.”

It didn’t matter what I was going to do—he was already doing it for me, positioning me where he wanted by my hips, hauling my expansive green skirt high.

Only—I remembered a half-a-second too late—that I didn’t have cute underwear on tonight. I was on my period, and up until three seconds ago, had been absolutely positive no one was going to see them.

“I—” I stuttered, as his hands reached for them next, and our eyes met in the mirror, just in time for me to watch him roll his.

“I did assume you were wearing underwear, again.”

“It’s not that—I’m at the end of my period,” I blurted out.

He snorted, then tilted his head. “Is that a hard limit?”

“I don’t know—is it?”

He stepped up behind me, so that I could feel the wool of his suit against my skin, and the line of his hard on trapped inside of them, a long, thick crease. “I’ve been married before, remember?” he asked. “And I would pull it out with my teeth if it meant that I could fuck you.” His hands went for the waistband of my definitely-not-cute panties, but I stopped him.

“What’s wrong, Rhaim?” The question came out quieter than I’d intended, my chest tightening at the thought. Was this one last desperate moment before his certain doom? I couldn’t imagine anyone storming my father’s penthouse, not with all the financial celebrities mingling below. Everything with the IPOwas going swimmingly—I’d done everything he’d told me to do, and somehow I’d become the belle of the financial sector. But I also knew he wouldn’t break without good cause. “Are—are you in danger?”

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