Chapter 5 Unbuttoning While Walking Toward Him

Anchored close to shore, a lavish cruise liner sat, its lights glinting against the dark water. Levi Hopkins stood at the fore with a squad of armed bodyguards, their postures rigid and their sharp eyes sweeping the horizon.

Because the auction house forbade weapons inside, the men had been forced to wait outside, and only when Charlie and his group reappeared did the tight line of Levi's jaw finally ease.

"Mr. Ford," Levi said in greeting.

With a brief nod that carried unquestioned authority, Charlie moved past him and gave a quiet order. "We're leaving."

"Understood," Levi answered at once, though his gaze slid to the young woman behind Charlie, cold and penetrating, like a hunter sizing up prey. Under that scrutiny, unease crept up her spine, and she instinctively stepped back half a pace.

Seeing it, Preston walked over and clapped Levi on the shoulder with an easy familiarity. "Enough, Levi. That's not appropriate. She's just a shy woman-no need to loom over her."

Turning toward her, Preston softened his voice, offering a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. He looks terrifying because he's brilliant and sharp-edged by nature, but Mr. Ford keeps him firmly in line. He won't lay a hand on you."

"Who is she?" Levi inquired, his voice guarded as his eyes flicked toward her.

With a thoughtful hum, Preston rubbed his jaw. "A little blood slave."

Once it became clear she posed no danger, Levi finally eased back. He leaned in toward Preston, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear. "So that's the blood slave everyone's been whispering about? I expected something... grotesque."

His gaze drifted again, this time openly assessing. "She's stunning. Do you really think Mr. Ford would bring himself to draw blood from someone like her?"

"From what I can tell, she doesn't speak." Preston's tone remained calm, almost clinical. "And you know the rule-beauty alone isn't enough to stay by Mr. Ford's side. A woman needs a voice worth hearing."

After a brief pause, Preston's brows knitted together. "Still, it's complicated." He exhaled through his nose. "Any idea what Mr. Ford paid for her?"

Levi tipped his head and pressed. "No. How much?"

Preston held up a single finger, his expression turning grave. "One billion."

"What the hell!" Levi blurted, flicking a look at the blood slave beside him before leaning toward Preston. His voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "That number could've bought two brand-new M-series fighter jets."

A wry breath slipped through him as the thought landed-Charlie really didn't blink when it came to money.

From where she stood, the woman followed their hushed exchange with guarded eyes, catching the way they stole glances at her between words. Instinct prickled, alerting her to quiet, creeping danger.

The moment she picked up the words about Charlie drawing her blood, ice slid straight down her spine.

What they didn't realize was that the experiments had sharpened her far beyond normal limits; she could read the minute shapes of their lips with ease, and even at a distance, their lowered voices carried clearly to her ears.

Her gaze lifted to Charlie's broad back as he strode toward the cruise ship, tall and straight, his presence radiating a chilling, unyielding resolve. Saving her had clearly been only one piece of a larger plan, and that unsettling realization made her chest tighten. Questions crowded her mind-after paying such an outrageous price, what exactly did he intend to do with her?

Clarity was beyond her reach, leaving her no choice but to move forward blindly, one uncertain step at a time. Escape would have been ideal, a fragile dream she clung to for comfort.

Reality, however, was far less forgiving, offering her no opening at all, so she stayed close behind him. He was the one in control here, and sticking with him felt like the only decision that wouldn't immediately lead to disaster.

Steeling herself, she quickened her pace and closed the distance.

Charlie caught the faint, cautious presence trailing behind him and let a crooked smile tug at his mouth. At least she wasn't stupid-she knew exactly who to cling to.

Inside the cruise ship's private suite, he moved with unhurried confidence, and moments later, soft footsteps slipped in after him. She hovered behind him like a skittish shadow. When he crossed to the wardrobe to grab a change of clothes, she edged closer. By the time he turned toward the bathroom, she instinctively followed again, one step too far.

He paused and glanced back, amusement flashing in his eyes. "What is it?" he drawled. "Planning to come into the bathroom with me? Or are you hoping we take a shower together?"

Her face flamed instantly. She shook her head hard, mortified, then spun around and fled as if the floor had caught fire beneath her feet. How was she supposed to know he was going to shower? She'd only been trailing him without thinking.

Unbothered, Charlie watched her retreat before turning and heading straight for the bathroom.

Water soon rushed behind the closed door, the steady sound washing through the room like a soft lullaby, and she gradually curled into herself and drifted off.

Her long legs folded close to her body, slim arms wrapped around her knees as her delicate face rested against them. Fine lashes trembled faintly, like butterfly wings caught in a breeze, while her lips parted just enough to show a trace of pink.

Somewhere in her sleep, the buttons of her suit loosened, the fabric sliding down one shoulder and lending her an unguarded, disarming allure.

When Charlie stepped back out, this was the sight waiting for him.

He wiped the moisture from his hair with careless movements and slowed his pace as he approached her.

The moment he drew near, she stirred and opened her eyes. Sleep still clouded her gaze, yet beneath it flickered instinctive alertness and quiet tension.

Watching her focus sharpen so quickly, Charlie realized just how vigilant she truly was.

As she hesitated, clearly trying to read his intentions, a bundle of fabric suddenly dropped over her shoulders. His low voice followed, steady and unhurried. "You need to clean up. Go wash, then change into something fresh."

She peeled the clothes away and lifted her gaze. He stood close, tall and unreadable, his shadow falling over her.

In that moment, a grim clarity settled in-she finally understood why he had bought her.

Catching the pause, Charlie narrowed his eyes slightly. "What is it?" he asked, tone cool. "You don't get it?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Without arguing, she gathered the clothes against her chest and turned toward the bathroom, each step dragging as if her feet weighed a ton. Was she really crossing that line now? Men always expected women to give them what they wanted, to satisfy their desires-and she assumed he would be no different. Even so, he had pulled her out of that living nightmare-hadn't he?

Fear urged her not to hesitate any longer. After washing up and slipping into the crisp white shirt he'd given her, she stepped outside.

By the window, he stood motionless, staring into the distance, his broad silhouette sharp and commanding against the light.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, as if settling her resolve, then moved closer while unfastening the buttons one by one.

At the soft rustle, Charlie turned, his gaze landing on her as she shed the shirt while approaching him.

A faint, knowing curve touched his lips, the look in his eyes suggesting he was watching a private performance meant only for him.

Shame burned through her at that expression, yet she forced herself to keep going.

There were things far more important than pride, and even crushing humiliation could be endured.

When she finally stopped in front of him, the pristine shirt slid down her arms and fell away, exposing her bare, delicate body.