Andreas looks a little lost, like he’s anticipated the pain and already seen himself crumble. “Fuck you, man. This is about loyalty.”

“This is not about loyalty. There’s no such thing.”

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t be here threatening me otherwise. You’re loyal to that English motherfucker, and I’m loyal to Julio.”

I shake my head, tutting. “Loyalty is another word for stupidity, Andreas. Dogs are loyal. You kick a loyal dog and it cowers at your feet, dreaming of a way to get back into your good graces. Kick me and I’ll bite your fucking hand off.”

He falters. “You’re not here to protect Charlie?”

I shove my face in his, baring my teeth. “I’m protecting myself. And if you’re smart you’ll start doing the same.”

I can’t breathe. I can barely keep my legs straight. Barely concentrate on my surroundings as Zeth growls into my ear. “Then you’d better get talking.”

I have my cell phone jammed up against my ear and Pippa is rambling away on the other end, entirely oblivious to the fact that a dangerous, impossibly sexy, impossibly cruel man has two of his fingers inside me. He works his thumb over the swollen bud of my clitoris, smirking with a look of dark pleasure that sends vibrations through my whole body.

“Pippa, hi…I…I need to ask you a favor.”

“A favor? For my favorite girl? Sure, hon, shoot.”

Zeth draws his fingers out of me and slides them over my pussy, grinning when I twitch. “I need you to see someone for me.”

“Like a patient?”

“Like someone who wants to ask you a few questions before you see the—ah!—the patient.”

“Are you okay, Sloane? You sound like you’re trying to do yoga and failing again.”

Zeth gently squeezes the tiny knot of nerves that make up my clit, grinning mercilessly. He switches out his hands and begins stroking me with his left, bringing his right up to his mouth. He slowly sucks his own fingers into his mouth, piercing me with his gaze the whole time, sucking them clean. Embarrassment floods me, swiftly followed by a crescendo of desire that takes me by surprise. Every single experience I’ve had with this guy has involved him going down on me or tasting me in some way. As a fairly introverted person during my teens, the prospect of someone enjoying the way that I tasted was a ridiculous one, but there’s no denying Zeth’s addiction here. He leans into me pressing his chest against mine, and my heart stumbles in my chest. He’s going to kiss me. He’s actually going to kiss me…

But at the last moment he angles his head, like he’s caught himself about to do something unwise, and nips with his teeth at my jawline.

“Sloane? Sloane, do you need to call me back?”

“Uhhhh….may…maybe.”

Zeth palms my breast through my T-shirt, squeezing painfully. He shakes his head, tutting. “Don’t be a bad girl,” he whispers.

I am instantly filled with the urge to please him. “I just need you to meet this guy, Pip. He wants to ask you some questions before he sends his friend over to you. Is that okay?”

Zeth nods approvingly, watching me squirm beneath him like a leopard might watch a mouse. Before it pounces on the mouse and devours it. Pippa goes silent on the other end of the phone. Even her breathing seems to stop, and I can imagine her stern face puckered into a frown as she sits at her desk.

“Please tell me I don’t need to have that conversation with you after all?”

“What conversation?”

Zeth pulls back, still watching me, backing up toward the kitchen island. He reaches out behind him, barely glancing to locate what he’s after, and then my throat swells up. His hand curves around a black handle—one belonging to the serrated meat knife that lives in the wooden block on my marble countertop. My heart doesn’t beat once during the long second it takes him to withdraw the blade, always watching me, never taking his eyes off me. A dark and sinister intent lurks in his eyes.

“The conversation I said we’d skip back in the coffee house, the one about you making smart choices. This is about that guy, isn’t it? You promised me you weren’t going to see him again, Sloane. He’s dangerous.”

He. Is. Dangerous.

He is approaching me with a terrifyingly sharp knife in his hand, and he looks seriously fucking dangerous. I press back into the wall, swallowing, blinking, clutching at the phone pressed up against my ear. I know he can hear what she’s saying on the phone, and Pip’s remark seems to have galvanized him toward some outcome I don’t even want to think about. “You’re wrong,” I breathe.

His torturously slow approach hesitates. With his head tilted to one side, only half a degree, easy to miss if you aren’t paying attention, he narrows his eyes, studying me.

“He’s just looking out for his friend. Why else would he be doing this? How can he be so bad if he cares for her so much?”

“Just because he cares for someone else doesn’t mean he won’t skin you alive and hack you into small pieces. You’re being incredibly naïve over this guy.”

“I’m not,” I whisper. He’s closer now, standing right in front of me. He takes hold of the hem of my T-shirt, gathering it carefully in gentle fingers. “I’m just choosing to be hopeful.”

“Naïve,” Zeth mouths, shaking his head again. I swallow down the building panic forcing its way up my throat, pulling in a deep breath. This is going to be okay. This is all going to be okay. A clever person might tell Pippa right here and now that Zeth Mayfair is holding them up at knifepoint in their kitchen, but something…something’s holding me back.