I looked around; no one had noticed us. I was hidden behind West and the terrace was packed. If you managed to see us…it probably looked like we were just two more people standing close together.
But all West had to do was turn around. “West—the paparazzi—” I broke off, sucking in air.
Grayson slammed me back against his body using only my neck. “The fuck did I say about warning me?”
His free hand gripped my stomach, pressing me harder against his chest, his iron cock. I swallowed, throat thick.
I stared at West’s shoulder blades, heart thudding as Grayson ripped my head to the side, hot mouth landing on my exposed neck. I was helpless and his.
A heroine in an old gothic romance.
Stuck in the hands of the monster, at his mercy.
“I don’t fucking care,” he growled, grip bruising my swollen stomach. “Let them see. Let them all see you’re mine.”
He was a drug, sliding into my system. Intoxicating and overtaking the consequences.
Let them see I’m his.
Let me be his.
My head fell on his chest.
“Good fucking girl.” His chest rumbled on my back, his approval like sweet wine in my blood. “That’s my girl.” His teeth scraped harder at my neck. “You’d let me do anything to you. Anywhere. You could never say no to me, little nun.”
“But you always knew when I should have, Atlas,” I whispered.
That stopped him in his tracks, his blue eyes cracking. At the very same moment, West shook the hand of the man he’d been talking to. He was going to turn around soon.
Gray spoke so low no one else could hear. “Find an excuse to leave or I’m coming back and fucking you in front of everyone. I don’t give a shit what happens.”
Cold. Bored.
Vicious.
Goose bumps rose.
“Five minutes, Snitch.”
He pushed me off him and I stumbled into West, grasping his arm so I didn’t fall. West turned around, steadying me. His eyes narrowed on the now empty steps.
What kind of excuse could I make?
But I believed him.
Thirty
STORY
I knew where to go instinctively—our room.
I first saw the flash of gold, glimmering in the low light. Grayson sat on the ground, one arm on his knee, the other rolling the coin from knuckle to knuckle.
“Grayson?”
“You’re late.” He slammed the coin beside him into a priceless painting.
“I couldn’t…I had trouble getting away.”