A smile quirks one side of my mouth. “Rose, why are you here?”
“I…I’ve come seeking asylum.”
Frowning, I sit up. “From what?”
“From…” She chews her lower lip as her delicate hands wring the strap of her bag. “Please let me stay with you.”
“You want to stay in my club?”
She shakes her head. “I’d hoped you’d take me home with you. The club is part of your house, isn’t it?”
My lips part, though I don’t respond, because I can’t. A battle spurs to life inside me, with my body instantly ready and primed, screaming, Fuck yes! while the sane part of my brain says it would be a mistake. It’s a trap.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. You need to go.”
“I can’t go back,” she says in a small voice. “Not without completing my job.”
“What job?” My eyes narrow as I study her. “Rose, were you sent here?”
“Yes,” she admits, peering at her lap and chewing on her bottom lip.
“Look at me,” I command. When she lifts her gaze to me, I scrutinize her. “What were you sent here to do?”
“You’ll kill me if I tell you.”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
She swallows hard, probably remembering the gun I had pointed to her head last night, then blows out a breath before she says, “I’m here to seduce you. To find a way into your home and into your bed.”
“My bed.” I laugh, thrown off by her honesty.
“Men talk after they fuck. When their guard is down.”
“What sort of information are you after?” I ask, though I can already deduce.
“Weakness. Dillon Callaghan wants to know what your weakness is.”
“Well, sweet Rose, I’m sorry to inform you that if you make it into my bed, you’ll be sorely disappointed to find I have no weakness.”
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