Chloe (Made Men, #3)(51)

The whole thing felt so wrong yet so right. He was being pulled in different directions. His mind told him to leave, but his body kept him patiently waiting.

Watching her hand go up to her face, he felt his breath catch in his throat when she swept her hair behind her ear. Fuck.

His heart skipped another beat at the sight of her face in its entirety. His eyes traveled down the right side of her gorgeous face that held a scar from above her eyebrow down to the hollow of her cheek. Another one graced the right side above and below her luscious lips. The instinct to let his fingertips glide down each mark was so strong he thought he might break his cover.

Her gray eyes held the story behind the scar, a story of sadness, grief, and torture. It was like staring at a perfect porcelain doll that had been dropped one too many times. Others would see a flaw in the cracked doll, making her no longer perfect, but he saw only beauty. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

He could watch her study the delicate piece with gentle hands for hours.

The gold, ornate piece she was infatuated with was unfamiliar to him until she opened the egg-shaped object, and music began to play. Her eyes danced as she watched a ballerina twirl to the music. He wondered what it would feel like if she looked at him that way.

“It’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it?” the older woman who looked to be the storeowner asked as she came up to her.

The girl quickly became startled, shutting the music box. He wanted her to go back to the way she had been a moment before.

When her tongue peeked out to lick her lips, he eagerly waited to hear the voice that belonged to her.

“Y-yes.” She went back to looking at the box, avoiding the gaze of the woman. “H-how much is it?”

“Three thousand dollars.”

She removed her fingers from the piece. “Oh.”

The woman kindly smiled. “I know Christmas just passed, but you could always ask for it for your birthday, maybe. I could hold it.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s too much.”

The lady smiled. “Well, you could always come back if you talk your parents into it.”

“Thank you.” The girl took one last glance at the music box before she left the store.

Watching her leave was harder than he had thought it would be. He wouldn’t be able to come out of the store until she pulled out. Therefore, he had to watch her go to the car through the display window, and that wasn’t close enough for him.

A vibration in his pocket had him pulling out his cell phone. He didn’t say a word when he accepted the call.

His friend Sal came over the phone. “The BMW is registered to Maxwell Masters.”

That wasn’t what he had expected, though it explained why he felt like he had seen her before.

“Girl,” Lucca spoke into the phone carefully, watching her approach the driver’s side.

“He’s married to Elaine Maste—”

“Younger,” he cut him off.

Sal paused. “Scar?”

Lucca’s eyes traced her markings. “Yes.”

“That’s Maxwell’s daughter, Chloe Masters.”

He ended the call with the push of a button.

Time stood still for him as he soaked in anything and everything he could about her before she disappeared into the car.

There was always a moment one faced in life when a choice had to be made, and this was his.

Her tortured soul called to his dark one, whispering for him to save her. His heart was now slow, steady, finding its purpose—Chloe Masters …

Taking one last look at the scar on her face, he couldn’t wait for the day he could run his fingers across it. Beautiful.





Forty





The Being Behind the Door





The cold, metal table underneath her was a stark contrast to her burning face from what seemed like pointless crying.

“Please! Stop!” No amount of her kicking and fighting was a match for what felt like millions of hands holding her down.

The laughter from the evil man who held a knife rang through her ears, mocking.

“Stay still, little girl”—he drew the knife closer to her face—“or it’ll just hurt worse.”

Looking at his abnormally large, black eyes, she was sure she was looking into the eyes of the devil …

The silver blade inched closer and closer to her right eye until it was mere centimeters from her pupil.

“Don’t blink.”

A tear welled up in her eye, making it even harder as she struggled to keep her eye open. Her body began to tremble. She was going to blink.

“Don’t blink, little girl,” he warned her again.

The tear fell, and her eye started to close …



“Chloe!” Amo’s voice boomed.

A flicker of light entered her mind.

“This way, Chloe!” Amo pleaded.

Another flicker of light had her eyes shooting open. Sitting up so abruptly made her feel lightheaded. The bed, along with the big room, was one she didn’t recognize, which made her heart pound like a drum in her ears.

No! He’s got me, and no one knows I’m even here.

Shakily, Chloe stood from the bed, going over to the nightstand. Her hand reached out …