“I told you to wait downstairs,” Ruby tells him, crossing her arms over her chest and stepping slightly to the side so she’s standing in front of me.
“And I told you I didn’t want to,” he says. His accent is thick, and my stomach clenches at the thought of this man coming into my room. My body can’t take any more tonight. A whimper escapes before I can stop it. I clamp a hand over my mouth when Ruby looks back at me, the threat obvious in her narrowed eyes.
My eyes dart to the man when he growls, “What the hell kind of place are you running here?”
I expect to see disgust or lust or just a pure, hard anger, all the things that the other men show on their faces when they look at me, but he’s not looking at me like that. His blue eyes run over me, and I nearly weep at the sympathy and conc
