Page 77 of The Lost Heiress
Before he even knew what he was doing, Ransom was across the room. He grabbed Salvador and yanked him off the couch.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my sister?” Ransom said. He gripped Salvador by the throat, pushing him backward toward the wall.
Salvador cupped his hands over his exposed genitals, straining to breathe. “It’s not what it looks like,” he choked out.
Ransom clutched his throat harder. “The hell it’s not,” he said.
Behind them, Saoirse crawled off the couch and hastily threw on Salvador’s shirt. It dwarfed her, running past her thighs. She was rushing to button it and settled for clutching it closed over her chest with one hand.
“Did he force himself on you?” Ransom asked, turning to look at his sister now that she was half clothed. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks red and splotchy. The sight of her made him grip Salvador’s throat harder, and this time, Salvador abandoned any attempt to cover himself and instead tried to pry his neck out of Ransom’s grasp. The veins in his forehead were bulging.
“Stop it,” she pleaded. “Just stop it; you’re hurting him. You’re going to kill him.”
She was looking at Ransom like he was the villain in all this, like he was the aggressor. Likehewas scaring her.
Ransom seemed to recover himself then, and he let Salvador go. Salvador slumped forward onto his knees on the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. Saoirse tried to go to him, but Ransom held up his hand in warning, and she stopped, stood still where she was.
“Put your clothes on,” Ransom said to Salvador. “And then get the hell out of my house.”
Behind them, Saoirse let out a yelp like a wounded animal. “You can’t do that,” she said.
Ransom ignored her. He couldn’t even look at her.
“Please, just let me explain,” Salvador said, his voice hoarse. “It’s not what it looks like. I care about her. We’re not just—we’re in love.”
“She’s a child!” Ransom said.
Saoirse tried to go to Salvador again, but Ransom stepped into her path. “Take one more step in his direction,” Ransom said, “and I swear to God I will call the police right now and have him arrested.”
Saoirse froze again. She started to cry.
Salvador picked up his trousers, which lay crumpled on the floor, and hurriedly put them on. He retrieved his belt off the couch and threaded it hastily into his belt loops, looking around frantically forhis shirt. His eyes fell on Saoirse, and an awkward silence settled as he realized she was wearing it.
“Go,” Ransom hissed. “Leave.”
Salvador opened his mouth to protest, but Ransom took a step toward him, and that was all the threat he needed to turn and make a beeline toward the door.
What the hell just happened?Ransom thought. His heart was hammering in his chest, as if he’d just sprinted a mile. He felt dizzy, lightheaded.
The whole thing felt to him like a sickly, out-of-body experience, a nightmare: watching this full-grown, half-naked man flee and his disheveled sister weep, gasping for breath. One thought kept echoing in his mind: Salvador was a predator, and Ransom hadinvitedhim into his home. If Ransom had his way, he would have Salvador arrested on the spot, but he knew if he did, he couldn’t keep it out of the papers.
It all came down to this: even in his own house, he could not protect his sister.
“Stop crying,” he said to Saoirse. “He’s a predator. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”
Saoirse’s face was screwed up into a tight knot of fury. “Where do you get off, treating him like he’s done something wrong, like he’s some sort of criminal and I’m some sort of—some sort of hapless victim in all of this?” Saoirse said. “I came on to him, Ransom,” she went on, pressing her hand to her chest. “Me. I was an equal player in the whole thing. At least acknowledge that.”
Ransom shook his head. “No,” he said.
Saoirse was only seventeen—too young to give her consent. Salvador had abused his power. Ransom couldn’t see it any other way.
“I put him in a position of authority, and he used it to prey on you,” Ransom said.
“You’re twisting it in your mind into something that it’s not!” Saoirse cried, exasperated. “Salvador didn’t ... prey ... on me. He loves me.”
“He doesn’t love you,” Ransom said. “He loves what you can do for him.”
“That’s not true,” Saoirse said.
