Clint descended the stairs into the dungeon to find Miss Fin sitting on the red leather couch against the wall, her feet pulled up with her. She
hadn’t bothered to get dressed, but had put down a towel from the bathroom
to sit on.She looked up when he entered the room, and he felt a moment’s guilt for what he was about to do. Fin was the whole package, and if not for Genevieve, he might have tried to see what could develop. But taking his
ownership of Genevieve to the next level had become an all-consuming obsession.
Her consent upstairs had been given with a large amount of fear, but an equal amount of dignified determination. He was almost tempted to call it
off again, but he needed this. How could he know what she could and couldn’t handle if he didn’t give her the chance?
“I’m not going to see you again, am I?” Fin asked. Hearing Genevieve crying on the stairs was all she’d needed to start putting pieces together.
“We keep missing each other. I’m with someone or you are. Pe
