Page 71 of Sins of a King

Flynn tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Shall we get on with it? There are other things I’d rather be doing.”

“I bet.”

As if on cue, my hand came up to stroke Flynn’s chest.

“Lucky devil,” Marino muttered, waving us farther into the penthouse. “Get you a drink?”

“The lady will have champagne. I’ll have nothing.”

“Afraid I’ll poison you?” Marino chuckled like he’d said something funny.

“Not at all. I know that’s not your style. Drugging on the other hand…” Flynn shrugged, and I watched Marino’s brown eyes cloud with anger.

“What are you saying, Campbell?”

“You know.”

Marino held Flynn’s gaze before lowering his eyes. “I’m not behind it.”

“But you know who is.”

Marino glanced at me. “We should discuss this in private.”

“Agreed.”

A server handed me a drink and Flynn released me. “Excuse me a moment, pet. I’ll be right back.”

I gave him a sultry little pout and even though it was for show, I knew he appreciated it. I could tell he didn’t want to leave me alone, but men like Marino didn’t discuss business in front of women. Women were pretty objects, nothing more.

The door to the library shut, and I wondered what knowledge I wasn’t privy to.

An old goat grabbed my ass.

I nearly squeaked in surprise before anger overtook me. “Hands off,” I spat.

The man leered, his gaze dropping to my breasts, his hand tightening on my behind. He acted as though he hadn’t heard me. I didn’t want to make a scene, knowing women were nothing more than commodities here. I knew how it felt to be traded like a possession. Even though I was a reflection of Flynn, I was not going to let myself be passed around.

“What do you say we head to a private suite?” he slurred, liquor fumes hitting me in the face. The man swayed, placing a kiss on my bare shoulder.

I grimaced, feeling violated and abused. “No!” I yelled, throwing my champagne in the man’s face. He howled like a little boy who’d had his toy taken away.

“Bitch!” he fumed. “You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Before I could register what was happening, the man harassing me went flying across the room. Flynn’s angry face loomed in front of me, ready for a fight, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

The room was suddenly quiet as Marino strolled out of the library, looking around him. “What’s going on in here?”

“Murphy was pawing Campbell’s woman,” a man with a gray goatee explained. Glad he’d noticed. The jerk could’ve helped me out. I shot him a glare.

Marino barked an order at a security agent who went to the fallen Murphy and escorted him out of the penthouse. Marino turned back to Flynn and said, “I apologize.”

Flynn nodded his head, took my hand, and we left the suite.

“I—”

“Wait for the car,” Flynn instructed as we made our way through the lobby.

We were both seething. I’d been handled like a prized filly at an auction—a man had put his hands on me. And Marino had apologized toFlynn.As if I was nothing more than an extension of him.