As the door creaked open, the soft light spilling from the hallway cut through the dimly lit room. Davis stood there for a moment, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the scene before him. Belle sat frozen on the edge of the bed, her legs tucked close to her body, the torn remnants of her trousers lying in a heap on the floor near the bed. Her nightshirt clung to her, barely covering the bruises and marks left by Ashton’s rough hands the night before.
Her breath was shallow, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and regret. She could feel the cold draft from the open door sweep over her exposed skin, causing a chill to run down her spine. Her trembling hands fumbled to pull the sheet up, trying to cover her legs and the rest of her exposed body as Davis stepped further into the room.
He gave
