Pushing my bedroom door open, I’m too aware Callan’s been inside here, seen me naked. Hudson is hot on my heels as I set my purse on the bed and turn to him. He looks ever the prep-school boy, dressed in an expensive suit. His hair is perfectly styled, his smooth, square jaw free of any stubble. In other words, completely opposite of Callan.

“I’ve missed you,” he tells me, leaning in to steal a kiss, but I turn my face away, causing his lips to brush my cheek in a swipe of heat. “What’s wrong, Madicakes?” He’s called me that all the time I’ve known him. At first, I thought it was cute, but right now, it sends a shudder of revulsion through me.

I realize in that moment I can’t pretend to play this game anymore. He’s been wanting me to lie about us to my father so he can further his career when I know for a fact he’s out sleeping with every girl who falls into his Aston Martin.

But it’s time to set the record straight. Lying isn’t getting me anywhere. And I can’t do it anymore. Not to my father and certainly not to Hudson.

“I’m just tired of this song and dance, Hudson. My father isn’t here. You don’t have to pretend we’re together. This”— I gesture between us — “I can’t do it anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” he sneers, gripping my arms, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. I’ve never seen him angry. But his face right now is an image of rage. There’s fire burning in his blue eyes.

“Hudson, let me go. You’re hurting me,” I beg. My voice is a whimper.

He’s taller than me. Bigger, bulkier, and there’s no way I can pull free from his hold.

“Listen to me, Madi. I don’t give a shit if your father isn’t home. You’ve been playing the little slut down at that club for months, and I haven’t told him,” he hisses with venom dripping from every word. “Did you want your precious daddy to find out what you do down there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, hoping he’ll release me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes me back and forth, his hot breath on my face.

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve had you followed for months. I’m not stupid, Madicakes. You play the angel for your father, but you’re nothing but a slut spreading your legs for men when you don’t even want to kiss me.” His words crack my resolve, and I claw at his hands, my nails digging into the flesh.

“Let. Me. Go.” I enunciate each word carefully, hoping it doesn’t set him off, but I’m wrong when he releases one arm. His hand rears back and makes contact with my face, causing me to cry out in pain.

The sting on my cheek, the tears that pool in my eyes are enough to confirm this wasn’t the best idea. I should’ve told him downstairs. At least I know Callan is down there, and he could’ve stopped this.

I spin on my heel, the one thing I recall from self-defense classes; but Hudson is too fast and grabs my ankle, tugging my leg until I’m unbalanced, and I find myself falling to my knees. My hands hit the carpet, and he chuckles behind me.

“Or what? You going to run to the bodyguard you’re fucking?” He leans in, grunting angrily, spittle flying from his mouth landing on my face.  

“Please, Hudson. What the fuck has gotten into you?” I turn, kicking at his knee, which has him growling in response.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarls angrily. “You think you can play coy? I know what’s going on here. I’m not stupid.” His voice is cold, harsh, and I’m still jarred by his change in demeanor. He wasn’t always a nice guy, but this is something entirely different.

“Hudson, please—”

“Shut up!” he hisses. “Does daddy know you’re whoring your precious cunt to the bodyguard?” My mouth falls open, but no words come out. “I thought so.” This time, his laugh is demented.

Another harsh slap on my cheek, and I can’t hold back the tears anymore. I blink, causing his image to blur in front of me. He rears his hand back once more, and I flinch, awaiting the impact, but it never comes.

When I open my eyes, I find Callan straddling Hudson, his fists making crunching sounds against Hudson's nose, jaw, and before he punches his throat, I’m pulling him away. I don’t know where my strength comes from, or how I manage to snap Callan from his rage, but I do.

“Just let him go.”

“Listen to me, you little fucker. I have boys like you for breakfast. If you ever”— he leans in, spit flying from his lips in rage — “ever come near Madison again, I’ll make sure you’re sorry for fucking being born.” The tone of his voice scares me, and I’m the one he’s defending. I’m not sure what’s going on. Something must have set Hudson off, but the only thing I can think of right now is the pain in my jaw.

“This isn’t the end. Her father will hear about this,” comes the final threat from a man I grew up knowing. But as I watch him walk out of my bedroom, he’s a stranger to me.

Callan turns to me. Meeting my watering gaze, he cups my face in his hands. His thumbs, rough and calloused, swipe the tears from my cheeks. “If he comes near you again, I will fucking kill him.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m paid to care for you, to keep you safe, but even if I wasn’t being paid, I’d fucking do it in a heartbeat.” His words hold a seriousness that steals my breath.

“You’re paid to care for me?” I question, watching him for a flinch of emotion. Anything. Just a sign to tell me he’s here, that he feels what I do.

I’m not going crazy. I can’t be.

I watch as he stares at me. His eyes boring into mine, as if he’s searching for answers to questions he’s not voiced yet. My stinging face held gently in his hands.

“If I was just another girl, and you weren’t being paid, would you have saved me as well?” I wince at how weak I sound. Like a little girl looking for a fairytale prince. But the man before me is not that. He’s bad. He told me so himself.

“Blossom, I would save you any time, any place, from any one. It’s in my nature to protect, but it’s also in my nature to kill, maim, torture.”

I pull away from him. Stepping back, I take him in fully. His shirt is dotted with Hudson’s blood, his hands stained in crimson. This is him. The wild beast. The untamed gentleman. A contrast. Even dressed in a suit, he’ll never be a man my father would allow me to be with.

The thought lances my chest. My heart aches. As much as I want Callan and he wants me, even with Hudson out of the way, I know Senator Parker would never allow his little girl to date "the help" as he calls all the people who work for him.

“All the times you tell me you’re so bad, I don’t see it, Callan.”

“You should, little flower. Because I’ll steal all your pretty petals. I’ll rip them off one by one until you’re merely a stem between my fingers. And I’ll do it because I want to be the only person to break you, and the only one who can keep you safe.”

“What if I no longer have any petals? What if I have thorns?” I question, finding confidence from deep within me. I meet his darkened stare. The way he watches me is like a predator about to hunt his prey. But there’s no chase, because I give myself to him willingly.

Something about this man makes me crazy. I don’t care what Daddy says. I no longer care what the paparazzi or the press make of me or my choices. I want this man before me.

“Then I best be careful when I touch you,” he murmurs. Stalking toward me, he closes the distance in a few easy steps. The heat emanating from him sears me, leaving me breathless, needy, and aching for him to ravage me.

“Don’t be careful with me. I’m not a delicate flower. Show me what you want to do to me,” I implore him in a raspy whisper. My face still hurts, the agony from Hudson’s harsh blows still smart my jaw, but I want this so much more.

“Jesus, Madison,” he growls, gripping my hips and pulling me closer. He leans in, his lips on mine in an instant. I gasp in shock at the electric current jolting through me. Every nerve in my body is alive as his tongue dips into my mouth, licking at me, tasting me.

I deepen the kiss. My arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing my body against his as if I need to be near him to stay alive.  His hands trail down to my ass, grasping me and lifting me.

My legs wrap around his waist as he walks us toward the wall, where he slams my back against the cool surface. His lips move south, latching onto my neck, suckling the flesh into his mouth. A gentle graze of his teeth draws a whimper from my mouth as I tangle my fingers in his short hair.

I want more, so much more, but he stops in an instant. Pulling away, he meets my hungry gaze. “We can’t do this now. I can’t . . .” His words trail off, and I wonder what’s turned him from hot and heavy to ice cold.

He sets me down, then moves away from me. I watch as he makes his way to the balcony door. Ensuring it’s locked, he flits his gaze over to where I’m still leaning against the wall.

“I’ll be in the pool house if you need me.”

Quietly, he opens the door and leaves me reeling from being attacked both violently and passionately. Sighing, I push off the wall and pad into the bathroom to open the taps and splash my face with cold water.

With a quick glance in the mirror, I find my eyes bloodshot from the tears and my cheek bright red from Hudson’s assault. I don’t know what got into him. He’s never once touched me in that way. For years, I thought I knew him, but it turns out even time can change someone.

When I head back into my bedroom, I find my phone and tap out a message to Amber telling her to call me as soon as she can. I don’t know if Hudson would go to her for anything, but I have a feeling after the fight we just had, he’ll be trying to ensure I’m the one who's thrown in the deep end if this blows up in our faces.

All the time I’ve been going to Sins, I’ve never once been with any of the men in the club. None of them held my attention enough. Then Callan walked in, and I continued to go, to see him.

Now, all I need is for him to trust me and show me who he really is. Tugging off my black slacks, I replace them with a pair of cotton shorts. The top I’m wearing finds its place on the carpet, and I pull on a loose-fitting T-shirt. It’s casual and sexy, but not too revealing.

My face is smarting, so I make my way down to the kitchen to grab some ice. When I walk into the space, I find Callan at the kitchen table, his nose buried in his phone, and I wonder who he’s texting. It’s ridiculous. I feel like a jealous girlfriend. Shaking my head, I open the fridge and pull out the small ice pack I use after running. Wrapping it in a tea towel, I place it on my cheek and can’t stop the moan of relief that falls from my lips.

“If you keep making those goddamn sounds, Blossom, I’m not going to get any work done,” he says from behind me.

I turn to look at him. He’s pulled open a laptop and is tapping away. I make my way to him, still holding the ice-cold pack to my face and settle on the chair opposite him. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he carries on typing. His brow creased in concentration as his dark eyes are pinned to the screen.

I sit back, my gaze never straying from him. He’s handsome. Rugged and rough around the edges. He’s no longer wearing the blood-splattered shirt but a blue tee that seems to be molded to his frame. His muscles bulge with movement as he works. And the sprawling veins that adorn his arms make me want to trace the intricate patterns with my tongue. I want to see more. So much more.

Show me what you hide, Callan, please.