“I just got in.” As her eyes flick to the clock on the wall, her eyebrows raise. She stays quiet for a moment, almost seeming to contemplate her response, but then she surprises me with another question.

“How long will I be trapped in this room?”

“You can leave the room whenever you’d like. You are welcome to use the kitchen, and all living areas. My housekeeper Maria will look after you and can get you anything you need. But I have a team here that secures the place, so you can’t leave the premises. If you do and my enemies find you, they will kill you. I don’t want that on my conscious, Bella.”

The term of endearment leaves my lips before I can stop it. I am having a hard time thinking of anything but her pouty lips showcasing the softest pink and her red hair falling in tendrils around her face.

“How long before it is safe for me to leave the house, then?” she presses, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket by her side.

“Have you got somewhere to be, Little Red?” I ask, tilting my head. We both know she has absolutely nowhere else to be.

Her eyebrows furrow slightly, and she glares at me with clear frustration. It is damn cute.

“The men who we fought with are out to hurt us. I don’t suspect that you are a threat, but because you are with me, they will try to hurt you. Until we can fix the situation, you need to stay here.” I shrug.

She nods, and I can tell by the distant look in her eyes that she is thinking everything over. She is such a good girl for trusting me like this. I run my hands across my mouth to hide the smirk that is forming.

“What happened to your hands?” She gasps, her eyes now wide as they take in my blood-stained sleeves and my bruised and beaten knuckles.

“Just some business I had to take care of,” I reply, waiting for the moment she runs into the bathroom and locks the door in fear.

“Business?” she questions, before jumping out of the bed and walking over to me. She steps so softly on the carpet, her movement can’t be heard. But I can’t say I am focused on her steps but rather her legs, her pale bare skin looks like porcelain under the glow of the lamp, and with her wearing nothing but my shirt, she looks like every man’s wet dream.

Stopping in front of the armchair, she picks up my large hand in her two small ones and lifts it closer to her face to inspect it.