Holly Sinclair took one look at the man's flashy clothes and obsequious expression and instantly knew what was going on.
He was a gigolo, the kind who catered to wealthy women.
And a particularly cheap one at that.
'I've been set up!'
'It was my own fault for being careless. I thought someone of Mr. Dalton's stature wouldn't be involved in something so sordid.'
"Who are you? Get away!!"
As the man edged closer, Holly Sinclair's eyes flew wide and she snarled at him.
But she felt utterly awful, and her voice, far from being intimidating, came out as a weak, breathy sound, almost like a lover's complaint.
"Hey now, missy, don't be shy. Your friend sent me to take *real* good care of you. Don't you worry, my technique is superb. I guarantee you'll be satisfied!"
The man's grin grew even more lecherous as his grubby hands shot out impatiently toward Holly Sinclair's chest.
"Get off! Mmm…"
Before Holly Sinclair could finish her sentence, the man pounced on her.
