Reluctantly His – Gilded Decadence Read Online Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Virgin Tags Authors: ,

Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)

First rule of being a bodyguard, don't f*ck the woman you're protecting.

And I want to break that rule so damn bad I can practically taste her.

She's innocent, sheltered, and spoiled.
As Reid Taylor, former Army sergeant and head of security for the Manwarrings, the last thing I should be doing is babysitting my boss's little sister.
I definitely shouldn't be fantasizing about pinning her down, spreading her thighs and…

It should help that she fights my protection at every turn.
Disobeying my rules. Running away from me. Talking back with that sexy, smart mouth of hers.
But it doesn't. It just makes me want her more.

I want to bend her over and claim her, hard and rough, until she begs for mercy.
That is a dangerous line I cannot cross.
She is an heiress, the precious daughter of one of the most powerful, multi-billionaire families in New York.
And I'm just her bodyguard, an employee. It would be the ultimate societal taboo.

But now her family is forcing her into an arranged marriage, and I'm not sure I'll be able to contain my rising rage at the idea of another man touching her.

Explore the intriguing secrets and dark longings of New York's elite as they come to life in this compelling series by USAT Bestselling authors Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



Without warning, I was snatched from behind and roughly pulled against a hard male body.

“Where do you think you’re going?” growled my father’s head of security, like a junkyard dog deprived of a bone.

Still reeling from my father’s demand that I now be followed around like a child, the last thing I wanted was to deal with anyone.

With my chin raised and my face averted, I wrenched my shoulder, trying to break the guard dog’s tight grasp. It didn’t work.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and responded tightly, “Kindly unhand me, Mr. Taylor. I’d like to leave.”

Closing my eyes, I envisioned the legato notes of Saint-Saëns’ The Swan to control my breathing and remain calm. Although I used the technique in cello practice, it had become a necessary tool of survival as a daughter in the Manwarring family.

In this family, I wasn’t a beloved daughter or sister.

I was a pawn.

An asset.

No different than a pile of stock certificates to be bought and traded to the highest bidder.

An object.

And apparently, like any object of value, I now needed to be guarded.

His hand shifted to caress the sensitive skin of my inner arm, just under the lace edge of my chiffon puff sleeve. “It’s either Sergeant Taylor, Sergeant—or if I’m pulling your hair, Reid— but never Mr. Taylor.”

Shocked by the subtle yet intimate gesture and his bold comment, I raised my face to his and gasped at the intensity of his dark gaze.

This was the closest I had ever been to him, to any man really.

Wealthy daughters of billionaire families might as well be displayed behind glass.

Always seen, never touched.

Pretty dolls to be admired for their silent obedience.

Recovering, my tongue flicked out to wet my dry lips. “If you are trying to get a reaction out of me, Sergeant Taylor, you are wasting your time.”

The constant pressure on generations of Manwarring women, to know their place and never say or do anything to embarrass the family, had turned me into the perfect diamond. Something bright and shiny with no more emotions than a piece of stone.

His head pivoted to scan the empty corridor before he tightened his hold on my arm and swung us in an arc until we were secluded from view in the darkened alcove which housed a tall, bronze sculpture of a naked couple in a sensual embrace.

My heart raced as panic made me light-headed. Or was it his nearness?

Either way, I knew my father was only steps away in his office.

As I was the last remaining obedient sibling, it had been made clear to me he would not tolerate even the slightest break in propriety.

Not after what Olivia had done.

And certainly not after the scandal my brother had caused.

Reid braced his forearm over my head. “What’s the matter, princess? Are my dirty, lower-class hands too rough for your soft, blue blood skin?”

His comment brought my focus back to the warm, rough sensation of his hands on me. A shiver ran up my spine.

This was wrong. Really wrong.

By breathing intensified.


Of course he’d call me a princess. I had heard it all: princess, snow queen, duchess, spoiled bitch. There was no point in complaining or explaining. No one wanted to hear the problems of the poor little rich girl.

Not that I blamed them.

Restrained masculine power radiated off him like heat.

I was used to being surrounded by men with power, but this was different. With those men, their power came from paper. Arbitrary figures plucked from thin air.

Sergeant’s power was primal. The kind that came from heavy muscle, an iron will, and the arrogance of knowing you could break a man’s neck with your bare hands.