Page 25 of His Good Girl
“Quen.”
“Sit.”
“Can I get dressed first?”
“No.”
A quick glance around shows no signs of Isaac.
“I’m alone. This is a sensitive matter.”
“Okay. What’s up?” I sit, leaning my elbows on my knees, my hands dangling between my legs, my right hand covering up the injured left hand, but he’s already seen it.
“You know what this is about?”
I nod. “Is he dead?”
“No.”
“Is he going to press charges?”
“Probably. Want to tell me what that was about?”
“Not really.”
“Wasn’t a question.”
Sighing, I know I have no choice. My actions will always and forever be known to the Society. That’s how it is. I accept it and own it.
“I was protecting your niece.”
Letting that hang there like a noxious gas, our gaze meets, his going hard and as furious as I’ve ever seen it.
“Meaning?” he growls.
“Serena was accosted by some dickhead who figured he could coerce her into being with him. I disagreed and told him to stay away from her. He came looking for a fight. I gave him one.”
He rubs his hand over his face. “Jesus. Is she okay?”
“Far as I know.”
“What were you doing with her?” The warning in his tone is a level red alert.
“I was drinking in the same bar she was in with her friends. I saw it and stopped it.”
He remains silent, contemplating his reply. “Thank you,” he says eventually.
“I don’t need thanks.” It’s the last fucking thing I want. What I really want is her. There are no two ways about it. I did what I did for me because I can’t stand the thought of another man touching her. Plain and simple.
“The Society will make this go away.”
I nod my gratitude. It’s not something I was looking forward to dealing with, although most of me hoped he was dead.
Rising, I make my way to the coffee maker, expecting this to be over.
It’s not.
“The cleaner said her apartment was empty.”
