Page 37 of A Duke for Stealing (The Devil’s Masquerade #4)

Rose moved around the column quickly, trying to get past the impediment, but before she could get far, Maxwell’s hands slammed into the marble column by her head, closing her in. His blue eyes sparkled with lust as a wicked smile drew across his face, making Rose’s blood run cold.

“Are we to play a game?” He mused, lowering his head to hers. “Shall you be the mouse to my cat?

“This is not a game,” she breathed, pressing her body as tightly into the column as possible, trying to gain space from him. “Remove yourself at once.”

“Oh, good,” he practically moaned, “I prefer to be more direct anyway.”

Before Rose could blink, Maxwell’s right hand gripped her jaw tightly, making her cry out at the sudden pain.

“Let me go,” she managed to demand through his tight grip, then winced as it grew tighter.

“Why ever would I do that?” Maxwell purred, bringing his lips dangerously close to hers.

Rose opened her mouth to scream, but only a shard of sound broke free from her lips before his other hand clamped down on her mouth, muffling it.

“I like the fight,” he gritted, his body not moving an inch as Rose began to scratch at his jacket and face. “It makes everything so much sweeter. I know you like it too, you little temptress. Every rumor has a ring of truth to it. Do not deny it. You want this.”

Rose attempted to scream once more, to make purchase upon his face with her nails. She was able to succeed once, drawing three red lines down his perfectly sculpted alabaster face before his hand freed her jaw and caught her wrist.

“Not the face,” he snarled as he forced away from the column and pinned her back to his chest. He began to drag her backward, “You have a lot to learn about this, Your Grace. But worry not, I will teach you.”

Rose struggled and attempted to scream again as she felt herself being dragged into a dark room.

Fear tunneled through her veins as she was drawn further away from the others.

She reached for the door frame, her nails almost able to grip the wood, and when that did not work, she attempted to use her feet to catch the door frame- and that was when she saw Everett’s face appear.

His green eyes were nearly black with rage as he flew into the room. One arm wrapped around her waist as the other threw a powerful punch into Maxwell’s face. Maxwell let go of Rose with a howl.

“Get your hands off my wife!” Everett snarled, pulling Rose protectively into his arms.

He turned to her quickly, his dark eyes wide with worry as his trembling hands moved from her waist up to her cheeks.

“Are you well? Did he hurt you?” He asked.

The shift in his voice was remarkable, going from savage to soft in an instant. His tone cloyed at Rose’s heart. She shook her head, even though her jaw still stung from Maxwell’s type grip.

“No,” she whispered as Ophelia rushed in.

“Take her,” Everett snapped, handing Rose off to Ophelia as if she were a precious child, and he stalked toward Maxwell.

“Rose, darling, are you alright?” Ophelia asked.

Rose couldn’t answer, her focus pulled toward Everett as she watched him drag Maxwell to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“You dare touch my wife?” He whispered, his tone venomous.

“You do not understand,” Maxwell stammered, trying to fight Everett’s powerful grip. “It was her! She pursued me!”

“Liar!” Everett roared and punched Maxwell again.

Rose and Ophelia both gasped as Maxwell’s head snapped back by the force of Everett’s hit. His head lolled and his eyes rolled as he tried to bring his head back up; a trickle of blood poured from his nose.

“You do not touch my wife,” Everett seethed, then kicked at the man’s knees.

Maxwell let out a cry of agony as he fell, still shaking his head.

“You do not lie about my wife!” Everett roared, then punched Maxwell in the face again.

This time, the man just let out an agonizing whimper as his left eye immediately began to swell and turn purple.

“Say it,” Everett demanded, cocking his fist back for another hit, “Say you understand!”

Sure that the next blow would surely kill the man, Rose flew from Ophelia’s side and wrapped her body around Everett’s back. She might despise as much as she loved him, but she could not bear the thought of him spending the rest of his days in a cell for murder.

“Don’t,” she begged, “Everett, do not. He is not worth it!”

Everett’s rigid stature softened against her, and he began to let out several panting breaths, as if he’d just held his breath for too long. Slowly, he lowered his fist, and with a push, he released Maxwell with the other, sending him sprawling backward onto the floor.

This time, as Everett wrapped his body around her, she did not try to push him away. Instead, she returned the embrace, wrapping her own arms tightly around his waist and holding herself to him. She did not tell him to stop pretending. She couldn’t. His actions were glaringly truthful.

He cradled her head to his chest, a gentle hand resting over her bruised jaw as he stared threateningly down at Maxwell.

“You spread the word that these rumors of my wife are false,” Everett commanded, looking down at the badly bruised and bleeding man at his feet. “Then you will leave London.”

Maxwell glared at Everett and Rose as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“Or what? You will beat me again? I can have you arrested for this!”

“Not if you do not get the chance,” Everett snarled.

“Do not forget who I am and who my friends are, Maxwell Stonehurst. You know who we are, what we have done. And what we can do,” Everett warned.

As if recalling some sort of dark memory, Maxwell’s narrowed eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet.

“I always wanted to explore Russia anyway,” Maxwell murmured, fixing his jacket. “I have heard the prospects are much more well-suited to my tastes.”

“I do not care where you go,” Everett remarked, staring daggers into Maxwell. “Remember. My friends and I have eyes everywhere in this city. We will know if you return.”

“Do not worry,” Maxwell muttered as he took one last disgusted look at Rose. “I won’t.”