Page 11 of Protected By the Sinner

I know exactly why I’m here.

It was the lack of any other choice that made me come face-to-face with Beau Carmouche-LeBlanc, even though the moment we stood in front of each other, I was certain he’s not the kind of man you mess with.

The impact he had on me was hard to hide.

I knew he was checking me out too and that I had to fully commit to playing the part of the bold intruder, but for a few moments, I found myself mesmerized by his looks.

Dark jeans hugging his thighs. A black shirt stretched tight across a muscular chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the hair on his arms. Flat abs. Thick biceps looking like they might burst through the fabric of his shirt.

Beau LeBlanc is the embodiment of masculinity. His face carries a shadow of stubble that doesn’t dull his beauty.

I vaguely register there are other people around, but I can’t break our eye contact. I’m breathless, my skin tingling.The strength he radiates pulls me in like a magnetic force I can’t escape.

His hair is as black as mine, disheveled in a way that suggests he couldn’t care less about appearances, or perhaps that someone had their fingers in it, tugging him into a kiss just moments ago.

The thought unsettles me, which is ridiculous. We’ve never met before, so how could I possibly be jealous of a stranger?

His face is the kind you want to learn to draw, just to capture every detail. Not conventionally handsome but ruggedly gorgeous, leaving no room for anyone nearby to look away.

He shows no emotion while the hostess explains that I tried to sneak in without being on the guest list. I can’t tell whether he’ll kick me out or let me stay, and that uncertainty makes me anxious.

My heart is pounding in my chest. Every sense is on high alert, warning me that coming here was a mistake—even though I know I had no other choice.

After I got my assignment, I looked up everything I could about Beau. There wasn’t much besides his age—thirty-eight, thirteen years older than me—and that he’s a playboy who owns a global chain of nightclubs.

I’m analytical by nature, and I couldn’t understand why someone like him would interest those monsters. But now that I’m here, I get it. The press calling Beau LeBlanc theKing of the Night, as if he’s just another billionaire, is as misguided as the people who sent me thinking they could handle him.

“What’s your name?” he asks. His voice is anything but gentle—it demands an immediate answer.

I swallow hard before speaking, forcing myself to slip into character. “Amber Martin. Actually, I lied. My name was neveron that list. But it would’ve been a huge loss for your party if I weren’t here.”

I try to act like I’m breathing, which is only half true. The air comes in short bursts because I feel dizzy and afraid.

My brain says,Run as far away from him as you can, but my body keeps pulling me toward him.

What have I gotten myself into?

Then I force myself to remember why I agreed to this insanity. If I back out now, I’ll hate myself forever.

“Loss? I don’t like that word. And I’m not the kind of man who lets opportunities slip by.”

Right after saying that—and catching me off-guard—his arm wraps around my waist, forcing me to walk with him.

My entire body is overheating, and it’s a miracle I’m still on my feet.

“I thought we were staying where the fun was,” I say, acutely aware that his fingers are burning through the fabric of my blouse.

“And how do you know I’m not taking you somewhere even better?”

God, that voice alone could make a woman climax.

“Are you?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a party crasher, Amber Martin.”

“If that’s what you think I am, why didn’t you throw me out?”

He completely ignores my question, guiding me to a sofa in a glass-walled area. We climb stairs to get there , and yet I can still hear the music pulsing from downstairs.