Page 54 of The Strength Of A Woman

Why didn’t he do anything for me if he had his people follow me?

Hollow inside, I review the most unpleasant scenario.

Maybe he acted this afternoon.Maybe he set me up.

He looks at me as I get lost in my thoughts and don’t seem to be able to find a way out.

“Sit,” he orders, and I take a step forward but show no intention to do what he’s asked of me.

His eyes bore into mine, leaving no other choice but to do what I’m told.

Hoping to hide the pain, I brace myself, clutch my skirt, and slide into the seat across from him, my face carved in stone.

It takes one slide to the left, and the frame of the chair cuts into my sore flesh, and just like that, I grimace and almost fall off.

I catch myself and straighten, unable to pretend I’m not in pain.

Suddenly, his eyes flicker dark.

“Get up,” he barks, doing the same himself.

Towering over me as I slowly slide up, he pushes his stare to my skirt.

“Turn around and lift your skirt.”

“I can’t.”

Our eyes meet.

It takes him a second to change his mind and grab the hemline of my skirt himself.

He lifts it up, almost creating a wall between him and me, and grabs one of the candlesticks, bringing the light closer.

“What is this, Leilani? He did that to you?”

He runs his finger down my sore behind, and I jolt and wince.

My skirt falls back in place while he tilts my chin up.

His grip is a little harsh as he fixes my eyes with an angry stare.

“Julian York did that to you tonight?”

Tears pool in my eyes, my assuredness gone, my brattish moods non-existent, my confidence that this will ever go my way completely vanished.

My teary eyes are his answer.

“When did he do that?”

“He ambushed me when I walked back to the bedroom.”

“Did he do that to you before?”

“Not like that.”

“What do you mean bynot like that?”

“He did other things.”