Six

I would have been impressed if I weren’t terrified for her life.

She walked in wearing nothing but a long silk nightdress with a thin robe draped carelessly over her shoulders, her damp hair twisted up in a towel like she’d just stepped from the shower.

Marco had explicitly ordered her to dress up, and she had done the exact opposite, deliberately, defiantly.

She had kept him waiting, all these dangerous men waiting, and then sauntered in wearing what amounted to lingerie.

The men around the table exchanged knowing smirks. Marco’s face darkened with a rage I could feel radiating across the room.

“Arabella!” he roared, shooting to his...