The Bad Gentleman
I have to ask, because my little plan to escape is still in motion, but if all these men are to walk in with us, escaping will be extremely difficult.
“No. They’ll remain to greet my guests,” he says casually, takes my hand in his large ones and pulls me with him into the store. I ignore the throttle of currents racing through me at our contact, focusing instead on the store and the heads that whip in our direction as we walk past the ground floor to an elevator in the corner. Christian seems like a pro, like he’s a regular here, with how laid back and freely he moves. The elevator stops on the third floor, and we step out to see a middle aged woman dressed in her store uniform, long beige p