Page 21 of Auctioned to the Alpha
Not random.
“Rhett.”
I glance back.
She’s standing now, pale and furious all at once, holding a photograph in trembling fingers.
Me.
Taken tonight at the auction.
Watching her.
Someone printed it and left it on her bed.
My jaw locks hard enough to ache.
“He was here,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“He knew I wasn’t home.”
“Yeah.”
The panic starts settling into her expression now, fighting with anger and pride and the stubborn refusal to show weakness she’s been carrying since she stepped into town.
I recognize it because I’ve worn it myself.
She looks around the destroyed cabin again. “This is insane.”
“Pack a bag.”
Her gaze snaps to mine immediately. “What?”
“You’re not staying here.”
“No.”
I straighten slowly. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
Her chin lifts instantly. Defensive. Sharp. “You don’t get to order me around because some creep broke into my cabin.”
“I do when somebody’s obviously threatening you.”
“I can call the police.”
“You can,” I agree calmly. “They won’t make it up the mountain tonight.”
“I can stay at the motel.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because everyone in town knows where it is.”
Her eyes narrow. “You really enjoy being controlling, don’t you?”
