Page 28 of Cinderella and the Daddy

"There's more," Mark continues, and I can tell from his tone that I'm not going to like what comes next. "Yuri Kozlov—Adrian's uncle—approached me at the dinner. In the hallway. He wants to make an offer for the girl."

My hand tightens around the glass. "What kind of offer?"

"Five million. Cash. He says she'd make a perfect addition to their roster of entertainment."

The glass shatters in my grip, vodka and blood mixing as shards bite into my palm. The idea of those animals touching her, using her, makes me want to burn down half of Miami.

"Sir?" Mark steps forward, concerned.

I wave him off, grabbing a towel to wrap around my bleeding hand. "Set up a meeting with the Tremaines. All of them. Tomorrow night."

"At their shop?"

"No. Neutral ground. The warehouse on Fifth Street." I flex my injured hand, welcoming the pain. It helps me focus. "They've caused enough trouble. Time to clean up this mess once and for all."

Mark nods and heads for the door, but I stop him before he can leave.

"And Mark? Double security around the compound. Especially around Leo and Cindy. If the Kozlovs think they can use either of them as leverage..."

After he leaves, I pour another drink and walk to the window overlooking the pool area. The water glows blue in the darkness, peaceful and serene. Nothing like the storm brewing in my chest.

I trusted her. Against every instinct, every lesson learned in blood and betrayal, I let myself believe Cindy was different. That she wasn't like everyone else who'd tried to use me, manipulate me, or sell me out for the right price.

But the evidence is mounting. Her phone call. Her father's sudden contact with my enemies. The way she played her role so perfectly tonight. She charmed everyone she met. Maybe she's a better actress than I gave her credit for.

The thought of her in my bed right now, warm and soft and waiting, makes my chest tighten with something I don't want to examine too closely. Part of me wants to go to her, to lose myself in her body again and pretend none of this matters.

The other part wants to drag her out of bed and demand the truth.

I know I was the first man inside her.

That cannot be faked.

Why? Why was she a virgin?

Women her age are not virgins. She’s beautiful with a body that would make any man fall to his knees.

Was Charles always planning to sell her off to the highest bidder?

I need to understand that relationship. He isn’t her biological father. What would she do to protect him?

The compound is quiet; most of my men are either on patrol or grabbing a few hours of sleep before the morning shift. My footsteps are silent as I make my way to my bedroom.

She's there, just as I ordered. Curled up in the center of my king-size bed like she belongs there. Like she's always belonged there.

The sheet has slipped, revealing the curve of her hip and the indent of her waist. Her skin still carries faint marks from my hands—evidence of how desperately I held her earlier. She'snaked beneath that sheet. Vulnerable. Trusting me even after I threatened her, accused her—nearly broke her in that hallway.

My chest constricts at the sight. She looks young like this. Too young for my world, too soft for what's coming. One arm is flung above her head, her breathing deep and even. No nightmares tonight. No fear.

She feels safe with me.

The irony tastes like poison. Here I stand, planning to violate that trust in the smallest way—a tracker no bigger than a grain of rice. Here she sleeps, believing the danger comes from outside these walls, not from the man whose bed she warms.

Do it, the paranoid part of my brain insists.Before you're too far gone to protect yourself.

But I'm already too far gone. The moment I let her read to Leo, let her into our lives, I crossed a line I can't uncross.

She looks younger like this. Vulnerable. The sharp edges of her personality softened by sleep. It's hard to believe this woman could be playing such a dangerous game.