Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

Still inside me, Arran lifted and carried me, his arms supporting me entirely else I’d have fallen. Down the corridor, the door opened and voices followed. Cheers of congratulations raised as we passed, and I sensed the weight and crawl of their gazes on my naked skin.

Unbearable.

I dropped my head to his shoulder and closed my eyes, my humiliation absolute.

Then we were outside in the cooler night air. I peeked at Arran’s car, driver’s-side door open and the engine on.

He rounded it to pop the passenger door then placed me down on the seat. For a moment, he stood over me, jaw tight. His dick pulsed, and he swore then jerked back his hips to slide out.

I gasped, my pinnacle of upset and ecstasy so strange that I couldn’t get control of my mind. Then I snapped my knees closed and cringed into the seat, too aware of the faces looking on.

A car next to ours had the rear doors open and a uniformed driver waiting alongside. Another cheer went up as the huge man carried the red-haired woman from the basement entrance. Naked, she sobbed in his arms, holding on to him like he was her saviour.

He carried her straight to the car, his driver shutting them in. I caught her smile up at her man right as the door slid closed, her expression one of rapture and need. His whispered words that appeared like absolute admiration, pride in his eyes.

They appeared so happy together. The fit so perfect.

Material hit me. I blinked my attention from the other car and found a t-shirt on my chest.

Arran slammed my door then got in the other side, revving the engine to send the crowd in the car park running from our path. “Put that on before I lose my fucking mind.”

In shock, I fumbled to tug the oversized t-shirt over my head, concealing my naked body. Automatically, I clipped in my seat belt.

“Are you taking me home?”

He laughed in disbelief and drove out, barely pausing at the exit to check for traffic. Unlike me, he was bare-chested still, though luckily his jeans were done up once more. “No, I’m not. You know that isn’t possible.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“We need to leave the city. It’s a rule for the first week.”

“A rule? Of what?”

Arran breathed through his nose and gripped the steering wheel as if it were a throat in need of strangling. “Drop the act, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me you didn’t plan this all out. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Outrage cost me some of my mind. “Are you kidding? You think I’d voluntarily put myself into that… That…”

He worked his jaw. “That’s exactly what I’m saying because it’s a fact.”

Breathless, I stared. It took a long moment until I could speak. “It isn’t. I didn’t.”

“You walk out in front of my car, come to my club to sell your body after you gave me your judgement on sex workers, implying you’d do anything but their job, then the very next night, you waltz straight into my event.”

“I didn’t know your sexual assault night was happening!”

“Fucking liar. If you didn’t know the details from elsewhere, you were told about it on your tour.”

Silence played out. Terrible, fractured, empty space. The car punched into the dark night, the route he’d set taking us over the bridge to the north and out of town. Scottish territory.

When I found my words, my voice shook. “You really believe I wanted to get attacked?”

“Everyone who signs up knows the deal.”

“I didn’t sign anything.”

“No, because you purposefully snuck in and pretended to be someone else.”

I shrank down, my world still spinning. The one thing I had to do was get him to believe me. After all that had gone down, my fear, the hot sex, and the chilling violence, I needed him to accept my version of events. “Yes, I snuck in, but I only wanted to be in the club, not to take part in that.”

“What possible reason could you have for sneaking around my club?” He swore again and made a fist on top of the steering wheel. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t care. I only have one question for you.”

I waited, twisted horror still infecting me.

“Were you a virgin until I fucked you?”

“No,” I breathed.

His lip curled in strong emotion. “I was.”

Several hours later, I jerked awake from a fitful sleep, the car slowing, the change in the engine sound bringing me to consciousness.

After Arran’s ridiculous claim, I’d shut down. Turned away from him and watched the night. We’d crossed the Queensferry Bridge after circling Edinburgh, and bright city streets had changed to dark countryside. Then I’d passed out and lost track of where we’d ended up.

A long driveway led to a huge mansion, lights outside showing the extent of the palatial building.

“What is this place?” I asked.

Arran didn’t answer, driving on to park the car beside a wide garage. He climbed out then came to my door. “Get out.”

I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, stepping out to the cool of the predawn, the gravel smooth under my soles. “Are you going to leave me here? Whose place is it?”

“Who the fuck goes there?” A figure stepped out of the shadows of the house. He crossed the gravel but stopped dead. “Arran?”

Then he was running, slamming into the man who’d brought me here with a sound of happiness. He spun him around, peering at Arran’s face. “The fuck? Ye don’t call, ye don’t write. Now ye show up in the middle of the night barefoot, bloodied, and half-naked. With a woman? Ho-lee-shite. The lasses are going to lose their minds.”

Arran’s feet were bare like mine. He’d driven like that for hours.

Arran hugged him then backed off. “We needed a place to go for a few days. Is it okay to crash here?”

“Do ye even need to ask? Those rooms are yours for good—no one else has used them since we last saw your face, except maybe the kids. What’s going on? Are ye in trouble?”

Arran’s gaze slid to me, and his friend’s followed. I cringed under the scrutiny, too aware of the oddness of the situation and how I was only wearing a t-shirt, though fortunately one that covered my ass.

“We just needed somewhere to go,” Arran muttered.

The second man rubbed his hand over his dark hair. He looked about Arran’s age, late twenties, and had a happy, chilled-out expression that made him feel infinitely less dangerous than the crew at Arran’s club.

In his hand, something sparked. A lighter? My opinion revised fast.

“Let’s get inside. You’ve been driving a while, aye? Probably need a drink.” The man changed tack.

He started walking, and I trailed after. I had no choice. A quick glance around showed only pitch-black countryside beyond the expanse of lawn, no other houses to be seen. Wherever this was, it was intensely private. Plus neither man was trying to force me, for a nice change.

“I’m Jamieson, as my boy’s too rude to introduce me. Welcome to the Great House. This is my home. Well, mine and my family’s. You’re very welcome…”

“Genevieve,” Arran said for me.

Jamieson laughed and shook his head, climbing the mansion’s shallow steps. “Like I said, the lasses are going to lose their minds over ye.”

We entered a huge hall with a marble floor and a staircase that swept up to the next floor. A woman held the banister, peering down, her long blonde hair in a thick ponytail and her pyjamas with little hearts on.

“Who is it?” she asked, her accent English. Then her eyes widened. “Arran? God, are you okay? Where’s your shirt?”

“He brought a girl, similarly underdressed,” Jamieson quipped.

The woman gawked. Apparently I was the star of the show.

“Give me a minute and I’ll explain,” Arran said.

Without a word, he took my upper arm and towed me along with him, down the unlit hall to the right. We turned a corner, and I wrenched from his grip.

“I can walk by myself.”

“But can I trust you not to run or go where you aren’t supposed to? This is my friends’ home. There are children.”

“What am I, a monster as well as a sneak?”

We reached a room, and he propelled me inside the dark space.

“That remains to be seen. For now, I’m playing captor just the same as you trapped me. The windows are burglar-proof so don’t try breaking out, it’ll piss me off if I have to replace one. You’re perfectly safe here, so don’t fucking scream.”

I didn’t have a second to react. The door was closed, and a click indicated he’d locked me in.