Trapped. Each day, I feel more and more trapped. Ever since Daddy received the threats against me from a cartel of crime lords, I’ve lost a little more of myself each day. Firstly, I had to stop work. Then I had to cancel my cleaner. Then my weekly facial and manicure. Finally, Daddy told me I had to stay with him and Mother until he had protection arranged.

To top it all off, I found out, at the same damn time, that my boyfriend has been fucking my friend and colleague. So yeah, it’s been a shitty week, and my nerves are so frayed they’re about to tear completely.

Not working is enough to drive me nuts. Add in not sleeping or eating and far too much wine, and I’m fully aware I’m a woman heading for a breakdown if this carries on. I cannot believe that mere days ago my world was normal. Then Daddy got the threats and my on-again off-again boyfriend fucked my friend. Talk about timing.

I take another drink of vodka and finally speak. “I am certain you will be leaving my side. You won’t be sleeping with me.”

The minute I say it, I realize I’ve put my foot in my mouth. My heart rate picks up, and my cheeks heat. Damn it. I did not mean it that way. Stealing a glance at the man, I will my overheating face to behave.

Samuel doesn’t react with a cocky smile or a joke; he simply nods. “Ma’am, I will be sleeping in the room right next to yours. There will be alarms fitted across the threshold to your bedroom, and to your windows. Anyone entering the room trips the alarms.”

I blink at him as I parse what he is saying. “You mean I will be a prisoner in my own home?”

“No. The alarm will be activated only when you go to bed. Once you are awake, I will turn it off.”

“You?”

He frowns. “Yes, me.”

“No. I want a panel in the room so I can turn it off. What if I want to go downstairs for a glass of water?”

“You call out to me. Or ring me.”

“On the phone?” I am so shocked by what is being said, I can’t think straight.

“You can use the phone if you wish. Or, simply shout. Your bedroom door, and mine, will both be open.”

Oh, God, this won’t do.

The man is scary, but he’s also insanely hot, in a way I find disturbing because he really shouldn’t be.

It’s very rare I get intimidated by people. Being born an heiress and getting a first-class degree from Oxford will imbue one with a certain sense of confidence. This man, however, makes me feel small and weak. His presence alone is enough to turn most people to mushy incoherence.

No. It’s not happening.