Predator

46

Having a woman in the black market was never wise. The mercenaries there often released their pent-up energy after hunts in red-light districts, child prostitution villages, and cramped two-square-meter rooms. Rationally, Liam should hide Amelia away, dressing her in his clothes, with a handkerchief and hat to conceal her face from prying eyes.

But he remembered her as she had first entered the black market, like the doll he had given his neighbor. He felt she should wear beautiful dresses, kept in a display case, with only him allowed to admire her.

"I don't need them," Amelia coldly refused.

"But I want to see," he replied.

Liam, feeling a bit disappointed, took Amelia's hand and led her to a nearby chain clothing store. The local African fashion favored bright colors and intricate patterns. As they browsed, several local salespeople gathered around, their eyes occasionally glancing at the leather case in Liam's hand.

"Aren't you afraid of getting robbed and failing to report back?" Amelia taunted quietly in Italian, nestled in his arms.

Liam caressed her shoulder, his tone implying more than his words. "No one can take anything from me unless I let go willingly."

His gaze roamed around the store, finally settling on a dress displayed on a mannequin by the window. The top was a black off-shoulder, while the bottom was a bright magenta skirt with a slit, elegant yet lively.

"That one," Liam pointed to the saleswoman behind him.

Amelia looked at him in disbelief. "Do you know how hot it is outside?"

"I do."

Nairobi, Kenya's capital, adjacent to the largest port, Mombasa, has an average annual temperature of only seventeen degrees. Not everyone had Liam's robust physique, wearing a t-shirt and military pants while sweating.

"You won't catch a cold," he said, taking the dress from the saleswoman and dragging Amelia towards the fitting room.

The fitting room was just a small cubicle with a curtain. For once, the usually fickle man kept his promise—his burning body pressed tightly against hers, causing beads of sweat to form in the hollow of her neck.

"Cold?" he asked, stripping Amelia bare. Her oversized shirt and pants lay scattered on the floor. If someone walked by and glanced down, they would see a pair of bare feet on cold military boots through the gap beneath the curtain.

In the warm yellow light, Amelia's skin glowed as she bit her lip in humiliation. "I can dress myself."

Liam ignored her, his fingers trailing over her smooth buttocks. The once magnificent dress now seemed like a mere accessory, fragile and compliant in his hands. He had to control his strength to avoid tearing the delicate straps.

Who said men's toys could only be cold firearms? He also loved dressing his beloved doll in new clothes.

"Even more beautiful than I imagined."