His gaze darted to the office door for the barest second, which told me I hadn’t been imagining things—someonewasin there, and someonewasinjured. Maybe another person wouldn’t have spotted the tell, but I’d been raised to suspect everything and nothing.
“Go upstairs. You’re late.”
“Traffic was crazy, and the stores were packed,” I informed him absently. “What’s happening, Brennan?”
“Now’s one of those times you don’t need to be questioning me, Camille,” he rumbled, his words setting off a wave of vibrations that I felt in my core.
Business.
Some poor schmuck had gone against the O’Donnellys and was being served his fate just behind this door.
“Did you have to bring it home with you?” I whispered.
“It? Like a lost puppy?” He arched a brow at me. “Go upstairs. Get changed. We need to go soon.”
“You can’t just leave—”
“Can’t I?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ve asked you twice now, Camille. Nicely. Please, go upstairs before you piss me off.”
I should have just left. Done as he asked. Hehad,after all, been polite about it. But this was my home.Ourhome. I understood the need for medical care, that was one thing. But this? It was completely different.
“You can’t bring—”
He swooped down, his face coming so close to me that mine almost banged into the door as I jerked backward to avoid it—what stopped the collision? His hand. He grabbed me by the nape, just in time, and he hauled me into him even as he used his grip on me to tip my head back.
“You really trying to piss me off today, Camille?”
I swallowed. “N-No, of course not, Brennan.”
“Then why are you questioning me?” His nostrils flared for a second, and he rumbled, “This is business. I wouldn’t bring it here if I didn’t have to.” He clenched his jaw. “Pick up your clothes, get your ass upstairs, and wait for me.”
“I’ll go and get showered,” I tried to appease.
“No. Just wait for me.” With his hold on my nape still, he maneuvered us around so that his back was to the office door and mine was to the hall.
The air was almost incandescent with his agitation, and I had the feeling that, whatever had happened this morning, was tied to this. Tied to whoever was in his office.
Heart in my throat, I dropped down to my knees the second he released me, grabbed my clothes, and rushed over to the stairs.
My lungs were burning even though I didn’t run that far when I made it to the bedroom, and I laid out my things over the dresser in the corner.
As I twisted around, trying to figure out where to sit, I took in the large space.
The bed was massive and sat right in the center. On a raised platform, it overlooked the picture windows which opened up onto the Manhattan sky. To the left of it, there was a dresser, to the right, a vanity area that I couldn’t see him using all that much, even if he had a Louis Vuitton watch case on there.
At the foot of the bed, there was a bench, brown leather so dark it was nearly black and that matched the headboard. Beyond, there were two armchairs, a rich cream velvet with gold undertones that added a hint of warmth to the space.
I could sit on the bed, the bench or the armchairs, but I didn’t want to sit down. Nerves filled me, making my agitation worse.
Would he hit me?
I couldn’t see it.
But why didn’t he want me to get showered? To start getting ready?
Though I thought he was going to punish me, his actions and words didn’t correlate.
I’d pissed him off, but even though he’d loomed over me like Hades himself, he’d been the one to stop me from hurting my head when I’d nearly collided with the door.