The Courtship Maneuver, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) by Alexa Wilder Page B

he shouted. “Do you have any fucking idea what you just fucking did?”
    “If it was that dangerous,” I asked, “what were you doing there? If it was that bad, shouldn’t you have let Axel handle it?”
    “Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam asked, his face openly disbelieving.
    “No, I’m not kidding you. Tell me how it’s different. And watch your language,” I snapped.
    “I will not watch my fucking language. It’s different in a thousand ways, Chloe. But do you want to know the most important one? Those guys have no interest in me. I’m just asking questions about a problem. Most likely, they don’t want me asking those questions, but that’s fine. They won’t run the risk of fucking with me because I’m too well-known, and I’ve got too much money to make it worth getting me interested in their shit. But you? You’re a beautiful, desirable, and very inexperienced woman stumbling in the middle of a shit storm she doesn’t understand.”
    “What exactly don’t I understand?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I knew I wasn’t worldly, but I wasn’t completely naïve. Sam was making me sound useless and stupid, which was only pissing me off more.
    “What you don’t understand,” Sam said his voice level and deadly, “is that you are not a person to men like that. You are a commodity to be bought, sold, or traded for something else of value. Beautiful women fall into their hands every day and are never heard from again.”
    “Bought, sold, or traded? They sell women?” I asked, confused. I thought that was movie of the week stuff. I didn’t think it really happened.
    “Tsepov personally owns three brothels. Two of them are above board. One of them defines sketchy. I’ve heard things about the way the women cycle through his houses. Stories that some of his girls are not there by choice. And when there are that many rumors, Chloe, there’s usually truth. And now you’ve been in his bar. I guaran-fucking-tee you he had surveillance on our table. So now he knows who you are. What you look like. You’re on his radar, which is the last place you should be.”
    “Oh,” I said, at a complete loss for words. Of all the things I thought he’d be upset about, me being a victim of human trafficking had not been on the list. “You left without telling me. I went to your office, and you weren’t there.”
    “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST GONE BACK TO BED!” Sam yelled.
    “Stop shouting, you’ll wake up your Dad.” I hissed at him, suddenly remembering that Daniel was somewhere in the house. It was a big place, and his rooms were on another level, but the last thing I wanted, or needed, was another overprotective male wandering into this conversation.
    “It’s my fucking house, I’ll shout if I want to,” Sam said, at a slightly lower volume than before. Nether of us were doing a very good job at being sensible or reasonable. Between me running off to find him at the bar, which I admitted to myself was a bad idea, and Sam yelling at me over his right to yell, we were both acting like children.
    “And watch your language,” I unwisely said again.
    His eyes flared, and he reached out to grab my arm, dragging me down the hallway that led to his bedroom and office. I had to scramble to keep up, stumbling once in my wedge sandals. When I faltered, Sam kept going, sweeping me up in his arms and tossing me over his shoulder as he had the night before. I hit his back as hard as I could shouting, “PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN, YOU BASTARD!”
    He ignored me completely. Shoving open the door to his room with one booted foot, Sam dumped me back on my feet, and kicked the door shut behind him, catching my arm when my heel twisted beneath me. He stepped away as soon as I was steady, glaring at me.
    “Better?” he asked with a sarcastic sneer. “I promise you Dad can’t hear anything from my rooms when he’s downstairs. I’ve had plenty of proof. We can be as loud as we want and he won’t hear a