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There’s one thing that still doesn’t add up. Was Hunter really planning to take Paloma to her father? I never pegged him for the heroic sort. Or is the Senator trying to get her to come to him? He can’t very well come for her, his credit would suffer. But if she leaves on her own accord, the Senator can claim he had nothing to do with it. Of course, she would have to crawl over my dead body first.

“Daddy, my shoes,” she mumbles in her sleep.

“Shhh.” I amble to the bed and climb in next to her.

Before, my feelings for her were contradictory at best. I want her. Of course, I fucking want her. I’ve wanted her since the second I met her. But a quick fuck and marriage are two different things. Though I must admit, the lines are so blurry at this point. I can’t tell which of the parts that long for her are lust and which ones are love.

Whatever the case, Paloma is mine. She’s finally free of whatever cage the Senator had her in. She’s not going back to him.

Slowly, I pull back the covers and inspect every inch of her. She has bruises on her shoulder and her legs. All obvious signs of the trauma she suffered. But the scratches on her wrist are something else. The last time I saw these marks on her was right before opening night. When I asked her about it, she shrugged it off.

She’s doing this to herself. Shaking my head, I pull her into my chest and hold her tight.

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Little Dove. You’re safe with me.”

“I want to stay with you,” she says.

“Are you sure?” I looked down to meet her gaze. “Even if I refuse to share you with the world?”

“Yes.” She smiles, those golden eyes looking at me like I hung the moon, so full of trust and something else I’m not ready to recognize.

Once, she asked me to save her. And I haven’t stopped thinking about her words because I want to be that man for her. I want to be the one who keeps her safe.

“Why?” I ask.

“It doesn’t hurt to be with you.”

CHAPTER20

YOU WILL HATE ME FOR IT

Paloma

I stretch my arms long over my head, feeling like I slept for days. Turning on my side, my smile fades when I realize Archer is gone. At least he didn’t make me go to my room last night.He was so worried for me, as if he cared for me.

I get out of bed and head for Archer’s en-suite bathroom. On the double vanity, he left a toiletries bag with all the essentials. Being in his space like this feels intrusive, but it doesn’t stop me from going through his drawers and his closet while I’m brushing my teeth.

Like a proper CEO, he has rows and rows of tailored suits that look fairly the same, expensive and timeless. While I’m snooping, I grab one of his white T-shirts to put on after I shower. I can’t go to my room just wrapped in a sheet. I return to the bathroom and run the warm water.

His shower stall is huge with two shower heads and jets along the opposite wall. Every corner in here smells like him, a mix of sandalwood and fir. I try not to get my hopes up that any of this means anything. If he let me spend the night, it was because he was afraid I would get hypothermia.

Once I’m done shampooing my hair and scrubbing my body, I step out. And as it so happens, this is when Archer decides to enter his bathroom. He stares at me as if trying to remember why he let me stay and use his shower.

“Good morning.” A smile spreads on his face as his gaze roams my naked body from head to toe.

“Um good morning.” I rush to the vanity and put on the white T-shirt I found in his closet. “I was just leaving.”

“Where are you going dressed like that?” He sets a box on the counter full of band aids and tubes of ointment.

“My room,” I answer.

“I told you last night. This is your room now. Our room. I’ll have Mary Jane move the rest of your things later today.” He reaches behind him and pulls off his T-shirt.

My mouth falls open a bit as I admire his impressive body, the flat plains that cut across his back and shoulders, the v line that dips below the waistband of his sweatpants, and his ripped obliques. Everything about him screams power and sex.

I’m still ogling him when my gaze meets his in the mirror. A wrinkle appears on the corner of his eye as he tries to hide his amusement. “See something you like?” he asks.

“I’ve never seen someone your size up close.” I shrug as if I see half-naked men all the time, which is true. Though none of them have ever made me feel this way.