Page 52 of Captive Audience

“I thought that would be obvious.” He stopped at the open door to his bedroom and gestured inside.

I froze, my feet unable to take another step. A terrible sinking sensation churned my gut. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Rook, this isn’t up for negotiation.”

“My thoughts exactly. You’re sleeping in here, and I’ll hear no argument about it. Your belongings are already unpacked.”

Reluctantly, I followed Rook into the large closet, where my clothes were neatly arranged on one side.

I glanced between my things and Rook’s. Target versus Armani. “Why can’t I have my own room?”

“Truth?”

“Of course.”

He scraped one hand over the dark stubble on his cheek, as though hesitant to explain. “It’s unlikely that an intruder could reach my apartment, but if they do, it means they’re Jason Bourne–level dangerous and not here to fuck around. I can’t protect you if you’re three rooms away, and I won’t be able to sleep knowing that.”

Rook’s admission and the worry lines in his brow caused my chest to tighten. Color me shocked. His concern for my safety actually seemed…sincere.

Impossible. This man was a corrupt, power-hungry killer only interested in his own needs. A liar through and through.

For a second there, I almost forgot he was a heartless beast.

My hand landed on my cocked hip. “Right. Because if I die, you’ll have to manipulate someone else into working for you. How inconvenient. News flash, asshole. The safest place for me is far away from you.”

“Aye. There’s merit to that, but let me explain something. Now that you’re in my world, the best way to stay alive is to have the biggest, baddest monster in your corner. And guess what, love?” He leaned in and clasped my jaw, those blue eyes locked on mine. “You just married him.” Rook’s gaze shifted to my lips, and he moistened his own. “So you’ll stay in my room and sleep in mybed, because that’s where I want you. You’ve already seen what happens when I don’t get my way.”

I slapped his hand away. “You can’t have me arrested every time I disobey an order.”

“I can be far crueler than that.” He gestured toward the en suite. “Now, wash up. You smell worse than a rugby team’s laundry hamper.”

I gasped, then sniffed myself.Ew. I really was rank.

Maybe I could work with that.

“Does my jail-cell odor offend you? Think I’ll skip the shower.”

“Either you wash yourself, or I’ll do it for you.” He released me to undo the top button of his black shirt, a wicked glint in his eyes.

I recoiled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Care to find out?” He smiled like the devil himself. “Do you recall what happened last time we showered together?”

Oh, I remembered, all right. The steam-filled room. Rook supporting my weight against the wall while he slammed into me, one inked hand at my throat. The orgasm had hit me hard and fast and would go down as one of the top five sexual experiences of my life. The other four had taken place the same night.

Damn him. Damn him to hell.

Heat flared up my neck and cheeks.

“Aye. I think you remember everything.” Rook advanced on me, revealing more of his tattooed pecs as he continued unbuttoning his shirt.

“Stop.” I held my palms up. “I’ll shower.On my own.”

Rook clicked his tongue. “As you wish. And Asha?”

I stared him down, waiting for another smart-mouthed comment or command.