“You are right.”

“My sister will not become a part of that due, will she?”

“I’ve warned him to stay away from her, or he’ll be cut off for good. Men like Theron answer to money. He’ll do as he’s told.”

“Good.” I’m not sure if my guilt has me imagining his gaze lingers overlong. “I will match Mercedes to a man deserving of her rank. A man who can handle her. Perhaps even tame her,” he says, and I feel my gut clench. “But Theron is not that man. He cannot ruin her. As you said, she’s impulsive.”

“He will not touch her.” Because I, the friend you trusted, already have.

“Good.” He stands. “I need to get back to my wife. Good night, Judge.”

“Good night.”

33

Judge

It’s three in the morning when I get home. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept much in the past two weeks what with trying to avoid Mercedes. The house is dark, and my footfalls quiet as I make my way down the hall to my bedroom. I glance at Mercedes’s door like I do every time I walk past it, then open my own, wondering how she is doing. What she’s thinking. How hurt she is by my refusal of her. Especially after what I did. What I took.

I close the door and switch on the light only to hear a gasp from my bed. I’m not sure who is more surprised, her or me, because Mercedes sits up, squinting into the sudden light, her hair a dark waterfall over her shoulders and her naked breasts.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I set my briefcase down and stalk across the room to her.

She scratches her head and rubs her eyes. “I fell asleep. What time is it?”

“Time for you to go to your own room.” I jerk the blanket off her, very aware that I’m taking my anger at myself out on her. But then I see she’s naked, and it takes me a minute because fuck, I want her. I want to be inside her again. Hear her breathe my name. I want to hold her. Feel her warmth when I kiss her.

These weeks of avoiding her have done nothing to lessen my desire. And this is exactly why I can’t be near her.

She stretches her arms over her head, back arcing, making her breasts jut out toward me. It’s feline, the movement, and sensual as hell.

I take her arm and haul her up. She resists. “How did you get out of your room, Mercedes? And into mine?” Lois knows to lock it after she cleans, and Miriam should be locking Mercedes’s bedroom door every night.

“Stop. Jesus. You’re hurting me.”