Page 92 of Saved By the Billionaire

Through the closed door, Micah asked, his voice lower, “Didn’t the doctor stitch up that wound right?”

If Micah was hiding the fact that he’d brought the doctor over, Logan must still be in the apartment.

Blaze said, “Yeah, it’s not bleeding anymore, but these pants are disgusting. And that shot of penicillin in my ass hurt more than the gunshot.”

“You’re just lucky that you convinced her that you were current on your tetanus vaccination from being in the military. Last time I got shot, my GP couldn’t confirm the date, and she must’ve given me a double. Couldn’t use my fuckin’ arm for a week. Stand back from the door while I throw this bag and your lunch in.”

Blaze stayed where he was, sitting in the chair with his phone and one eyebrow raised, mocking Micah for his caution.

After the locks cranked, Sarah peeked over the edge of the bed to aim the gun in case Micah had switched sides.

From the sound of the steel door’s hinges, he cracked the door open just enough to throw in a large shipping bag with a plop on the white oak wooden floor and then scoot in two plastic clamshells, a grocery bag full of water bottles, and a cup carrier with a large coffee and a small hot chocolate.

The door clicked closed, and the locks swished into place.

Sarah’s mouth watered at the sight of the large cup and the dark brown scent of coffee steaming from it.

An hour later, after one of the best sandwiches Sarah had ever had in her life even though the city tomatoes were a little watery, Blaze motioned to the shopping bag sitting on the floor. “Mary Varvara Bell wants to see us again. I got us some clothes to change into.”

Sarah tossed the bag on the bed to start rifling through it. “I gathered that.”

The first set of clothes that came out was obviously far too big for her, so she set Blaze’s outfit aside and looked deeper inside the bag.

Inside the bag were black slacks and a bright red shirt with horrifying ruffles like a frizzled chicken all over it.

She shook the fluffy abomination at Blaze. “Are you serious? This would get caught in farm equipment in five minutes.”

Blaze barely glanced at the offending garment. “Luckily, I don’t think there’s going to be any farm equipment in Bell’s office.”

“I can’t wearthis.”

Blaze said, “You will wear it, little kitten,” in a deep voice, and the almost imperceptible shake of his head and purse of his lips told her to stop talking. But then he frowned. “Is that all that was in there?”

“I don’t know. Did you have clothes for someone else in here?”

“There should be underwear for you, too.” He stood and came over to probe farther down in the bag. “Here it is.”

His hand came out of the bag holding a red corset.

“I don’t think I can wear that. I’m notthatkind of a girl. I could barely even wear those panties,” she protested.

His chin and his voice dropped to a low growl. “You’ll wear it because I told you to.”

So like a good little girl, Sarah showered yet again that day and changed into the new clothes, which fit her moderately well.

The thick corset cinched her waist and didn’t push up her bosom with cups so much as smooth over her breasts all the way to her armpits, more like Regency-era stays than a naughty Victorian waist-pincher.

The boning bit into her skin like steel, and brocade panels were thick with structural mesh or something inside.

The garment really was over-engineered.

“If these are stays, I should be wearing a chemise under them,” she called through the door.

Blaze’s voice was clipped. “It’s only for a few hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes.Wear it, kitten.”

Fine, so the corset must be for sexytimes instead of historical accuracy.Fine.

She didn’t even like pokey underwire bras, but it wasn’t like she was going to be wearing this for the rest of her life.