I shake my head to stop myself. I don’t know why I’m going down that road. She would have followed the rules. Breaking them would shame her brother and incur his wrath. Besides, that’s not why she’s here. But her nakedness, it strikes me. She’s certainly not the first woman I’ve seen. Far from it. But here I am, unable to drag my gaze away.

“Sir?” Miriam interrupts.

“Get out,” I tell her.

Self-control. Discipline. Two traits I’ve worked hard to perfect in myself. I draw a deep breath in. Exhale. Getting hard at the mere sight of her is anything but controlled. She’ll be stripped bare more often than she’ll like, and I can’t get a fucking hard-on like some teenage boy every time I see her.

“Yes, sir.” Miriam leaves. I wait until I hear the door close.

I’ve taken women into my home before and disciplined them. Something I’ve done quietly for certain members of The Society. Not a single one of them has affected me like Mercedes De La Rosa. And I haven’t even started with her.

“Get into bed,” I snap, needing her to cover herself. I walk to the adjoining bathroom, taking a moment there. Gripping the edge of the counter, I push a hand through my hair. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Rummaging through the cabinet beneath the sink, I find the first-aid kit. When I return, I find her sitting in the middle of the large bed, clutching the thick duvet to herself. Again, I think about how small she looks. How different to the girl I’ve watched grow into a woman. A formidable woman at that. Now, at this moment, she is something else entirely.

And the animal inside me stirs.

I clear my throat, and she looks up, although she doesn’t quite meet my gaze. Her face is unreadable. She’s good at that. Always has been. Probably had to be. I know a little of her upbringing. Although surely, her father would not have been as physical with her as he was with his sons.

I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed.

She tugs the blankets closer, inching farther from me.

“Look at me.”

Her jaw clenches.