The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2) - Page 60

“Tell me what’s happening,” he demanded, although there was an edge of nervousness to his voice that made him sound less like the monster I’d pictured him as.

But tell him what was happening? How about the world was upside-down? I’d lost. God, I’d lost everything. Instead of admitting defeat, I was a stupid girl and went with the most practical answer. “I don’t like blood,” I croaked.

He held me firmly as he shrugged out of his jacket, one arm and then the other, until it lay in a heap on the ground. Then he seated me on the path, the smooth stones pressing uncomfortably against my bottom, while he knelt beside me.

He jabbed a finger at the jacket. “Put it on.”

I let out a painful breath, a mixture of fear and relief. I didn’t look at him as I struggled into his suit coat that was far too big for me and smelled like a man who wasn’t my fiancé. But once I had it on and folded across my body, my nakedness and the blood covered, I found myself again. My bones solidified, and fire raced through my marrow.

“How the fuck did you get ahead of me?”

He climbed to his feet and wiped the gray dust marks from his knees before extending a hand to help me up. “I built this maze.”

He said it like that should be more than enough explanation. I swatted his hand away and went to stand, but he didn’t like that. As soon as I was on my feet, he lunged at me, wrapping his arms around my thighs and lifting. It bent me over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry.

“Put me down!” My heart rocketed into my throat, making it hard to talk as he righted himself and began to walk toward the exit.

“I don’t believe you’re in any position to tell me what to do.”

It wasn’t just shocking being possessed like this—it was uncomfortable. Every step he took made his broad shoulder dig into my belly, and I felt like a helpless maiden being carried back to the monster’s lair.

Except he wasn’t going deeper inside the maze; he carried me out the entrance and then around the side of it. What was he doing? I squirmed and wriggled, trying to escape, but his arm was banded tight around the back of my thighs, locking me in place.

He turned the corner, following the outer wall of the hedges, until he was halfway to the other end. And there he abruptly put me down, setting me dizzyingly on my feet. He kept one arm around my waist, but I wasn’t sure if this was to keep me upright or prevent me from escaping. Maybe it was both.

I watched with stunned disbelief as his free hand disappeared into the bush in front of us and a moment later an entire section of the hedge swung open. The fake foliage covering this secret door was the perfect seamless match.

I couldn’t breathe, but my voice still worked. “You cheated!”

Macalister had the nerve to look insulted. “Where in the rules did it stipulate I couldn’t leave the maze? I only had to catch you before you escaped.”

My eyes filled with tears of rage. “You cheated.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

His hold on me changed. It grasped my wrist, covered by the overly long sleeve, and guided me through the passageway. He brought me stumbling into the long corridor that dead-ended with the urn on the other side—the starting line of the race I didn’t realize was unwinnable. Then the door swung closed behind, locking us inside.

I couldn’t fathom words. All the fury I felt was overwhelmed and drowned out by my trepidation. It kept me silent as I was led down the path and back to the center of the maze. My shoes were there, my bra and underwear discarded right beside them. It was a shocking sight, and I looked away, desperate not to see.

When Macalister pulled me to a stop and turned to face me, his expression cautiously eager, it broke me.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered.

Rather than look angry, he looked . . . worried. Like he was confused and unsure and it was fucking terrifying to see him like that. This version of him, I didn’t know how to handle. He set his heavy hand on my shoulder, and I was grateful it was covered by the coat to prevent him from making true contact with me.

“I have no interest in forcing myself upon you,” he said. “But I can’t deny how much I need this.” He set his hand on my other shoulder, boxing me in under his hold, and his expression filled with longing. “I cannot deny how badly I want this. Once it’s done, I’ll be able to let you go. If you honor our agreement, I’ll consider the one I made with Royce null and void.”

Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance
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