Page 50 of Wayward (Wrecked #4)

Emily

I ’m shaking as I swipe the keycard and push the button to go to the penthouse of the Saint Redford and drop the card into my purse.

I’m nervous. Which is ridiculous. He kissed me goodbye when he left my hotel to come back here.

It stopped raining, but I accepted the car service he sent to pick me up.

That doesn’t mean I’m not quivering inside.

When I was with him, a feral version of myself was unleashed.

One that wants more. And if I’m not going back to Miami tomorrow, can I forget about the guys back there?

There’s a stirring in my stomach. Tonight’s dangerous, because I’m putting myself out there.

Light and fun. Light and fun. I repeat it to myself.

Guys do it all the time, dating more than one girl.

There’s absolutely no reason I need to play by some outdated grandma standard.

I did that, and it left me heartbroken five times over.

Light and fun. This time I’m going to take all the orgasms and leave my stupid, easily won heart out of it.

I adjust the strap on my dress. It’s vintage, one shoulder Dior. It’s my go to when I want to be sexy. I don’t even know why I threw it in my bag, but I’m glad I did. It’s rayon and clinging to my curves. Best of yet, it doesn’t wrinkle.

I’m not a princess, but when he winked at me, my stomach fluttered. “We’ll have more fun tonight,” he said.

The elevator stops on the top floor, and I check my phone for the room number again. I pause at his door and straighten my dress before I reach out to knock.

I’m jerked backward. Hands grab me from behind, one over my mouth, the other around my waist. I twist my head, ready to ask him how he snuck up behind me, when I realize the hand over my mouth doesn’t look like his and the linen musk scent that I huffed from his wet jacket before I had it sent out is missing.

My throat closes, panic rises up my chest, and it takes me a second before I remember any of my training.

I stomp on his foot, and it lands. Hard.

But it lands with a hollow thud. Steel-toe boots.

I slam my elbow backward into his ribs, and he doesn’t even grunt. He’s a brick wall behind me. I throw my head back. The crown of my head thunks on his chin. He swallows a few swear words and tightens his grip around my mouth. I spit in his hand.

“Stop. You’re coming with me. I’m not going to hurt you. And neither is my boss.” The man has a Midwestern accent. He’s quick, and in the next second, a gag is in my mouth.

Fighting back isn’t working, so I drop all my body weight and go limp. But the brute’s ready for it. He throws me over his shoulder. It doesn’t matter. My brain fizzes, and I’m out.

Darkness takes me.

Savage Vow, Summer 2026