"It's okay, you're safe now. Just stick with Quentin and do exactly what he says."
"I know. Can you come keep me company?"
Before Vanessa could answer, the phone was plucked from her hand.
Alistair spoke coldly into the receiver.
"Ms. Sloan, Vanessa and I have some private matters to discuss. With Quentin there, you have nothing to worry about."
Listening to the dead dial tone, Seraphina sat there with tears still welling in her eyes, utterly bewildered.
Why was there a man with Vanessa?
Driving the car, Quentin noticed her stunned expression and offered a helpful explanation. "You making it out alive is entirely thanks to Mr. Howard."
"The Mr. Howard she's arranged to marry?" Seraphina asked, still processing the shock.
Quentin nodded. "I'm taking you straight to the precinct. Tell them everything you saw. You'll stay in a hotel for now. Once they catch the guys, you can go home."
"And if they don't catch them? Does that mean I can never go home?"
"You could, but I wouldn't bet on your survival."
Seraphina wanted to cry.
"Hey, big guy, you look pretty tough. How about I hire you as my personal bodyguard to keep me safe?"
She had just wanted to hire some scary-looking muscle to help her collect debts, but she had spectacularly messed up, stumbled into the worst possible scenario, and was now the target of a cartel hit.
Why was her life so miserable?
"Absolutely not," Quentin refused flatly.
Seraphina patted her chest, trying to sound loaded. "I'll pay you a fortune."
Quentin didn't even look at her. "Money's useless if you're dead."
"..."
Back at the house, the moment the call ended, Alistair pinned Vanessa's wrists firmly above her head. His grip was entirely dominant yet careful enough to avoid her injured palm.
"Let's continue."
He leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her head away, her breathing erratic.
"What now?" he asked, a hint of dark impatience lacing his voice as he fought back the suffocating heat in his chest.
"Just once."


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