Page 29 of The Wrong Monster

She fights with everything she has and it changes nothing. I wait, impassive, fingers locked around her wrists and thighs like iron pressing her into the mattress. Her breathing gets irregular, too short, and it’s obvious what she fears—what kind of monster I might be.

I’d never. But she doesn’t know that.

After exactly eighty-three seconds, Matilda struggles weakly and lets the fight drain out of her. She’s breathing hard beneath me. Pressed this tight to her, I should feel pleasure, at least on an animal level, but I don’t. This is business.

Our eyes lock.

“Finished?” I ask quietly.

Matilda glares up at me with undisguised hatred.

“No.”

A faint smile touches my mouth.

“I didn’t think so. Good. I want you fighting—for me.”

“Who the hell are you?” she asks, and without answering, I release one wrist.

“You have two choices,” I say, backing off just enough for her to sit up. “You can spend the next several weeks making this difficult for both of us...”

“And the other?”

“You help me.”

She laughs.

“I don’t defend kidnappers.”

“I didn’t ask you to defend me.” I straighten the cuff of my shirt as though we’re discussing a contract instead of a crime. “One of my men has found himself in a legal situation. You’ll get him out of it.”

“And then?”

“I let you go.”

She narrows her eyes. “Just like that?”

“Eventually.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t require your belief. I require your brain, your expertise.” Another step back, giving her space. Enough for her to stand. She rounds the bed quickly, keeping it between us now, but I have no intention of showing force again.

She’s smart.

“I’ll never represent you.”

“You represented worse people last week.”

“They weren’t threatening to kill me if I refused.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Then I imagine you were more cooperative.”

Disgust flashes across her face.

“I’m not an innocent man, Miss Pierce. But I’m not a monster, either.”

“You expect me to believe that?”