“People might find out.”
“Like who?”
She remains quiet. Meaning, she doesn’t have an answer.
“I want you with me.” My voice is low. I want her to know how serious I am. “At all times.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Fuck, that sounds lame, but what do I tell her? The truth?
That I think her father is abusing her, so I want her out of that house. Merely suspecting he hurt her fills me with a murderous rage I’ve never experienced before. I might fucking kill him once I find out the truth.
Yeah. She’s not living with that monster anymore if I can help it. No wonder she freaks out when I touch her and doesn’t trust me.
Her glare intensifies. “I’ve spent my entire life living with one controlling man who’s dictated my every move since I was born, only to find myself about to marry a man who’s determined to treat me the same exact way.”
That’s a fucking insult if I ever heard one. “I don’t want to control you—”
“Bullshit.” It’s her turn to interrupt me, and by the fury I see blazing in her eyes, I must’ve chosen a touchy subject. “God, I’m sosickand tired of men always telling me what to do.”
I stand up straighter, wondering why the hell I’m having to defend my decision when I’m only trying to give her a chance to escape what is clearly a toxic situation. “I’m doing it for your own protection.”
She shakes her head, her upper lip curled in seeming disgust. “Please. Like I can’t make a decision for myself. I’m the helpless little girl who always need a big strong man to take care of me.”
“Considering I’m pretty sure your father gave you those bruises.” I nod toward her arm. “I’m guessing he doesn’t do too good of a job taking care of you.”
She goes quiet, so much pain in her eyes I feel bad for saying it. The man may be a piece of shit, but he’s still her father.
“You shouldn’t insult him.” Her defense of him is weak, and she knows it.
“Charlotte, he hurt you. You have the bruises to prove it.” Damn it, she needs to see reason.
I need to get her away from him.
“You’ll make sure no one will find out we’re living together?” she asks, her voice small.
“I will do my best,” I say firmly.
I’m getting her out of that house. Even if we have to live in my apartment until we’re married, I don’t care. I can deal with her in such close quarters.
“Okay.” She nods once, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.
And then she does the oddest thing.
Charlotte lunges for me, wrapping me up in a tight hug. Her scent hits my senses, filling my head and I automatically slip my arms around her waist, holding her close. Noting how we’re a perfect fit.
How good she feels.
How delicious she smells.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my chest.
I touch her hair, trying to fight the surge of protectiveness for this woman that fills me, but it’s no use.
Guess I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.
Chapter Twelve