Page 66 of Wallflower

“I’d have to say I feel the same. Trust is hard to come by in this world.”

“Yes, sir, it is. Which is why it pains me to come to you like this. It breaches my loyalty, turning to another. But not all of us are as faithful as we say. Some of us put our greed, our desires, before the oath to Max.”

I don’t miss his slip-up. The way he talks about Mr. Smythe with a familiarity no one else does.

He will be a problem when I take over.

“Is there someone I need to be worried about, Reid?”

“You? No, sir…”

“What is it, Reid? Spit it out.”

“Your flower risks wilting the longer she’s here.”

Dread unfurls in my gut. I shouldn’t care that a place like this will tear her apart. Test her limits in ways that I may not even be able to. But I’m not about to throw away the entire fucking planto get this woman on my dick twenty-four/seven. She’s strong. She’ll be okay until I shove Maximus from his untouchable tower.

If not…she was always a means to an end anyway.

“Thank you, Reid. I’ll keep that in mind.” I move to get into the rented Jag.

“You don’t understand.”

“What?” I snap, pausing half way into the vehicle. “What don’t I understand?”

“She may not live long enough for you to finish this deal.”

“Fuck, Reid. Who do I have to kill?”

He shakes his head, denying me. “You can’t. Max would rain hell on you and everything you ever cared about if anything happened to him.”

“Who, Reid?”

He backs away from me slowly, still shaking his head, and I know this conversation is over.

“Thanks for the warning.”

He jerks a nod. “Drive safe, Mr. Morgan.”

“Wake up, red. We have unfinished business.”

This cannot be happening.

“Brad?”

“Shut up, you’re too fucking loud.”

“What are you doing here? You’re not allowed in my room.”

“Get pulled from a gutter by Max, and you’ll have his one singular emotion tied to you for the rest of your life. I can do whatever I want. He doesn’t actually give a fuck what happens to any of his toys, as long as we don’t break them.”

“What do you want?” I whisper-shout. Across the room, the panic button that was installed glows in the darkness next to the door. It’s too far, I’ll never make it.

Sitting up, I rub the sleep from my eyes, attempting to make my surroundings less blurry.

Brad’s hand slams into my throat, coiling tight as he shoves me back onto the mattress. Climbing atop me, he leans in close. “Ready to fess up the truth yet?”

Not this bullshit again. How fucking damaged is Brad that he can’t fathom a world where a woman does something because it’s the right thing to do, not because they want to hold it against you later?