His reluctance only made me more intrigued. “You can’t expect me not to ask questions in return for my secrets. I can tell you things I’ve sensed already. You never know…I might be as intuitive as you.” My voice was soft.

Fox glanced at me, his fists curled. “You’re confusing me with someone who gives a damn. I don’t care what you think about me. You’re mine to fuck, not to talk to and share my past.” He moved quickly, bringing the heat of his body close to mine. “Believe me, dobycha, you would not like what I have to say.”

I didn’t believe him. He wanted more than just sex. Cursing my rapidly thudding heart, I whispered, “You think I’m stupid, but I’m not. For instance, I know you use it as a weapon. Your scar.”

He scowled, facing me head on. His fingers twitched by his side.

“You were made to fight, that’s probably why you started this club, but you haven’t found peace yet. You’re angry and bitter and torn up inside and if you think you can pour all of that into me, you’re mistaken.”

He smirked, but it looked odd on his scarred face—an inhuman sneer that didn’t seem natural. “You think you’re smart? I’ll tell you something—you agreed to do the stupidest thing in your life when you accepted my offer. Not only do you think you can read me, but you’re silly enough to get swept up in the romantic notion that I’ll find redemption.”

He seemed to grow larger, more intimidating. His scar shone silver and weathered in the gloom. The air in the office thickened until it pressed heavy all around us, trapping me with a male who glared at me with hatred. “I don’t use the scar as a weapon. I use it as a warning.” His eyes flashed. “You may be able to hide your fuck-ups and mistakes, but I don’t have that luxury. My scar is a talisman. I don’t need to remember my sins—it’s visible every time I look in a fucking mirror.”

My stomach rolled as his energy buffeted me. His eyes locked onto mine, staring so hard I felt a twang deep inside when he plucked on my stupid heartstrings. “I’ll learn your sins before the month is out. But you won’t learn mine. And that’s a promise.”

Yet another promise you won’t be able to keep.

My lips parted as I sucked in an apprehensive breath. Violence tainted the air, turning it dark and smoky. It reminded me of a forest fire after it had incinerated everything in its path.

I had no intention of being in Fox’s path. His path to destruction.

I wanted to retort that he wouldn’t know my sins, but I knew the truth. He would. Normally, that would terrify me—to have another know absolutely everything about me—but in Fox’s case, even my worst sin probably wouldn’t compare to his.

A small noise sounded in my throat as Fox splayed a large hand possessively on my lower back and jerked me closer. I shivered as my hips connected with his hard and fast. The hot steel in his trousers branded my belly only for a moment before he pushed me non-too-gently away.

Grabbing my wrist, he yanked me across the room. “We’ll discuss the fine print at my desk.”

I slammed on the brakes.

I had a good mind to scream and kick him. I hated the way he manhandled me. How he expected me to obey implicitly. He proved he had no concept of how to treat a woman at all.

Rules.

“We need rules. You need to know the dos and don’ts around me, and I need to know them for you.” My eyes narrowed. “Rule number one. I don’t appreciate being corralled or forced to do something I don’t want to. It never worked for anyone in the past, and it won’t work for you.”

His silvery eyes glinted with interest. “Sounds like we have more in common than I thought.” Giving me a small nod, he let me go and rounded the desk to sit in the black chair behind. “Rule number one for me. Don’t disrespect me. If you have something to say, be eloquent. I don’t respond well to profanity or ridicule.”

Crap, he was right. We did have things in common.

I fumbled for my next rule. “Rule number two. I’m not a belonging you just stole and have the right to treat like dirt. If you ever pull a knife on me again, you won’t be a man anymore. You’ll be a eunuch.” My hand holding my blade reached up and re-secured the clip into place.

His lips twitched. Placing his palms on the desk, he leaned forward. “Rule number two for me. If I ask you to do something, you’ll do it. Think of the next month’s pay as a salary for being my employee. It doesn’t matter that sex is in involved. I want more from you than just the pleasure of sinking between your legs.” His voice roughened, eyes glowing with white hot lust.

My stomach flipped at the mental image of him taking me. Fucking me. Despite my best efforts to remain aloof, a tingle darted to my core, and I had the sudden urge to sit down. Clearing my throat, I sat in the only chair in front of his desk.

Tension curdled as Fox stayed frozen, watching my every move. I crossed my legs, pressing my thighs together against the throbbing desire permeating the room.

Announcing our rules had suddenly become more than just talk about business, it’d become layered with unspoken attraction and frightful uncertainty. I’d never had to fight my body’s reaction before. I’d never come across a man who I wanted to strip to the bone and discover everything he kept hidden.

Not even Clara’s father.

Not that it would be considered a love affair. He’d taken my virginity behind the toilet block in Hyde Park. It’d been messy, awkward, and a little painful. It wasn’t rape, but it wasn’t exactly consensual either. I’d been a stupid, reckless fifteen-year-old who thought she could tease and not pay the consequences.

Fox shattered my reminiscing. “Rule three for you?”

The stress in my body returned, mirroring the anxious strain in the room. Fox never took his eyes off me, effectively pinning me against the chair. I no longer focused on my surroundings. This man had the power to steal my every thought.

“Rule three,” I began, my voice huskier than before, “umm, I expect you to treat me as more than just a sex toy. I need mental stimulation and would appreciate if you spoke to me kinder rather than like a giant gorilla who thinks he’s top authority.”

My mind raced between the threat of sex and the allure of money.

What sort of mother am I?

Fox’s lips flickered into a quick smile before he smoothed his features.

 He tilted his head in vague agreement. “Rule three for me, I’ll give you the mental stimulation you need, but in return I expect everything. I ask a question—you give me the truth. I ask you to do something—you do it.”

Snapping his fingers like I’d seen him do on the fighting floor, his voice darkened. “While you’re in my house under my protection, you’ll forget about the outside world. Your friends, your family, your entire life no longer exists. Just me.”

My heart bucked as true fear rushed back and doubt crept in. I’d learned how to sneak and stay hidden from my childhood—I just hoped I could use those skills to disappear at night to see Clara. Fox would never have to know, and I could hug and kiss my daughter while making sure she stayed happy and well.

I nursed my own deception even as I accepted his rules.

“Do I need a medic to run a sexual health test on you? Are you on the pill?”

I should’ve been prepared for that question. Of course, he wouldn’t want to wear condoms for a month. But I hadn’t rehearsed my answer.

Old pain rose as memories tried to cloud me.

Fox sat forward. His eyes narrowed, sensing my reluctance.

I dropped my gaze. My fingers swooped up to fiddle with the matching star necklace Clara and I wore. The familiarity of the silver helped calm me.

I’d been eighteen. A struggling mother with a bratty two-year-old, working all hours of the day to support us. I’d been so wrapped up in my worries, I hadn’t heard the footsteps behind me.