The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

But his face was what grabbed one’s attention first. Symmetrical, and flawlessly proportioned, not even his cold expression cut from stone could mar it. The second look showed the type of body women groaned over, and the third revealed intellect in every move he made, as though everyone else was a chess piece, and he was musing over how to play each one of us.

My heart leapt as the cell lock unbolted, and I pulled my attention from him to the concrete wall in front of me.

“Russo.”

Nope.

No way.

If I went with him, I’d end up sold into a human trafficking ring and never be heard from again. Fed or not, with those eyes and presence, this man had seen and done things a normal Made Man hadn’t envisioned.

I rema

ined silent.

I was going to sit here and wait for the fed in the ill-fitting suit.

His gaze flicked to the prostitute.

“Name’s Cherry,” she supplied with a smile. “But you can call me anything you’d like.”

Some women didn’t know what was good for them.

He ran his thumb around his watch, once, twice, three times. “I’ll keep that in mind,” was his dry response.

My skin flared as I received the full weight of his stare. His eyes coasted down my body, leaving a trail of ice and fire in their wake before they narrowed with disapproval. And just like that, the apprehension from the way he’d looked into my eyes like I was a human being, not a body, drifted away, and he was now only a man.

One who judged me, wanted something from me—

“Stand up.”

—told me what to do.

Frustration flickered, lazy and hesitant, in my chest.

I wanted to wait a full three seconds before I complied, but after the first two, I had the sudden and distinct feeling I wouldn’t make it to three.

Complying, I got to my feet and stopped in front of the unlocked door. I stood in his shadow, and even that felt cold to the touch.

I hated tall men, how they were always looking down on me, always looming over me like a cloud blocking out the sun. Large men had ruled since the beginning of time, and at that moment, as I grasped steel bars and looked up into blue eyes, I’d never felt a stronger truth.

Impatience stared back at me. “Don’t know your name, or just forget it?” His refined and slightly rough voice blazed a path down my spine.

I lifted a shoulder and, as if it made any sense, said, “You’re not wearing an ill-fitting suit.”

“Can’t say the same for you,” he drawled.

Oh, he did not.

My eyes narrowed. “This dress is McQueen, and it fits perfectly.”

His expression told me he couldn’t be paid enough to care as he opened the door, sending a cold draft of air to my bare skin.

“Walk,” he ordered.

The one-word demand grated on my nerves, but I’d made my bed and now I had to sit on it. My heart drummed in my ears as I stepped out of the cell, beneath his hold on the door, and headed down the corridor.

Catcalls came from all directions.