“Good,” Carver says, slowly roaming his fingers up the side of my body like he’s appreciating what he’s about to take home to enjoy.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Sam says, stepping out of the doorway as Carver’s hand falls to my lower back and starts leading me out of the cell.
Carver looks back at him, his brows drawn in confusion. “Because you don’t need it.”
“Of course,” he says, nodding his head. “Then how shall I contact you when I have more … showings?”
Carver releases me and steps up to Sam, towering over him. “You don’t,” Carver says, leaning in and giving him a stare that suggests he better not even try. “I have what I need, and if my needs happen to change, I’ll find you.”
Sam hesitates before taking a step back and nodding once again. “Very well,” he says. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
Carver holds his stare for a minute longer before finally stepping away and pressing his hand to my lower back. “Walk,” he demands, his voice firm and filled with the type of authority that would have grown men whimpering with fear.
I do as I’m told and walk out through the long hallway, Carver leading me until we break out into the night. With Sam’s eye still on us, and probably the rest of his staff, we keep walking until we reach a blacked-out SUV with no registration plates.
The driver’s door opens and I recognize Grayson instantly, dressed to the nines in his best black suit, playing the role of Carver’s driver. He walks around to the back and opens the backdoor before indicating for me to slide straight in. I don’t miss a beat, more than desperate to get the fuck out of here.
Both King and Cruz are already in the car, and the second I can, I scramble across the backseat and fall into Cruz’s lap, holding onto him with everything I have. Cruz’s arms wrap around me and I bury my face into his shirt as he does everything in his power to soothe me. “You’re safe now,” he promises. “Always safe with me.”
I feel King’s stare heavy on my back and I welcome it, wishing that just once he might let me into his arms the same way that Cruz does.
Carver gets in the backseat and Grayson closes the door just as any other professional driver would do. He walks around the front of the car, and the second he gets in the driver’s seat, he takes off like a rocket, getting us the fuck out of there.
We get two minutes down the road when I feel a hand gently roaming over my back and I raise my head to find Carver reaching out for me. Without question, I move across the backseat and crumble into his arms, feeling the eyes of all of the boys on me, watching and waiting for me to break.
Carver holds me tight and I don’t dare move until the car is parked safely inside Carver’s garage with the security system on high alert. He takes my hand and gently helps me out of the back of the car, treating me like a wounded puppy too afraid to take a step.
As soon as I get to my feet, Carver pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over my shoulders to cover the filthy black lingerie and protect whatever dignity I might have left. He leads me into his massive home and scoops me up before hitting the stairs and leading me into one of the many spare bedrooms, the other guys remaining downstairs to give me what little privacy they can.
Carver places me down on the bed before backing up a few feet. He points to a door behind him. “There’s a private bathroom in there if you want to get cleaned up,” he says. “I don’t exactly have any chick’s clothes here, but I can bring you something of mine. They’ll be too big but at least you’ll be comfortable.”
I nod my head, too ashamed to even look up and meet his dark, stormy gaze. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he murmurs. “You can stay in here as long as you want. Just come down when you’re hungry and I’ll make sure there’s something for you to eat.”
I nod again, and just like that, Carver walks out of the room, gently closing the door behind him and finally leaving me in the safety of his spare bedroom. I stare at a blank wall for far too long before finally getting up and making my way into the massive private bathroom. I close the door and just for my own peace of mind, I flick the lock beneath the handle before turning to take in my reflection.
I’m a complete stranger.
My whole body is either black and blue from bruises or covered in dirt from the filthy cell that I was kept in. Tears well in my eyes and I hate how weak this whole thing has made me. I was stripped of a piece of myself, and I don’t think that I’m ever going to get it back. I was humiliated and made vulnerable, the two things that I’ve always strived not to be.