“No,” he cuts out. “Not in the way you think. It’s more profound than that for me.” A heavy pause fills the elevator, and his words start to crack. “And you’re wrong. People want me, but they don’t need me. You’re different. I didn’t know that at the gala, but holy shit, if you don’t match my fucked-up pieces.” He tucks the key card in between my breasts and then his finger leaves the button, the door slides open, and he allows me to step out first. “You’re coming over tonight.”
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t.” Quickly, I snatch the card from its spot before the doors slide open. My skin simmers with growing frustration with the first step I take, and I duck my head. “And you’re wrong,” I mumble, hiding my voice from the staff. “I don’t need anyone.”
“Bullshit,” he says louder than me. Half the staff swings their heads in our direction, and my cheeks blossom with heat. “Let’s go.”
He’s right. I am speaking bullshit, but I won’t admit about needing anyone in public. I say goodnight to the staff, and head for the parking garage.
Confusion spikes under my veins. It thrusts my legs forward at a faster than normal pace as he follows behind. The sound of his shoes smacking on the tile make me glance behind my shoulder and narrow my gaze.
“You’re not escorting me to the parking lot?”
“I am.” He catches up alongside me, wrapping his fingers on the inside of my upper arm.
That makes my pulse skyrocket in the right way. I don’t even attempt to shake him away. I like him there far too much.
Setting a new, slower speed of walking for us, he remains firmly beside me. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about the recent disappearances?” His voice changes from sultry and smoldering to tight and dry.
The night air wraps around me, sending a chill through my bones as we step outside. I nod, almost losing my words as a gentle gust catches in the space and hits my throat. “I did hear about it. Me and my friend have been coming to work together.”
“Good. Don’t you dare think about going out alone right now. Not even for groceries. Order a pickup. That seems to be one of the biggest targets.”
My lips mull in surprise. “You seem to know a lot about what’s going on. Do you know something the public doesn’t?”
“No. Merely suspicions.”
My breath snags when he buttons the middle button of his jacket. I glance up. An uninhibited bite of sharpness laces down my spine. I’m not witnessing the sex-filled eyes right now.
I see calculation. Protection—sharpness—ruthlessness, as he coldly sweeps the area of the garage, dark blue eyes half-squinted, jaw ticking.
If anyone was here and wanted to hurt me, they’d probably be dead before they touched me—and I like that, even though it’s slightly twisted, and while I’ve been battling against those thoughts, I’m not doing it at present.
Maybe that’s what life has made me.
A bit twisted. Slightly happy at knowing that finally, anyone who might attempt to cause me harm would be killed first.
A previously forgotten corner of my heart scolds me at the thought. There was time when I was different. When as a young child, stepping on an ant nearly made me blubber with tears, when I couldn’t watch animal documentaries because of the death that took place, and now the idea of another human dying brings me unconventional comfort.
I’m not who I used to know.
Funny how things change.
I’m fixated on the changes of life as we finally reach my car.
It’s not until the heel of Grant’s shoe smacks on the concrete flooring that I’m brought back to the present. Glancing up at him through my eyelashes, my thighs shift against one another. I positively want to squirm as the coldness from him drains away and transforms into a coy smirk.
“I have an appointment I can’t break, but I’ll keep it short,” he says, dipping down to stare into my eyes. “Let’s talk.” He taps his finger under my chin. “I expect to see you there, and we’ll figure everything out. I know I’m leaving in the morning, but I don’t care if we stay up all night. We’re going to reach some answers. All right?”
There’s no response I can form. Partly because I’m not quick enough. As he bends forward to plant a kiss on my cheek, anything I could say is swallowed up by the sensation that his gentle touch fills me with.
It’s not until I’m seated in the driver’s seat of my car, with Brexton long gone, that I’m forming any complete thoughts.
Instantly, I know going there is impossible. I’m not ready to have a conversation with Brexton about my fucked-up existence—not ready to spill all the secrets. Combined with how much of my self-control that’s already been siphoned from me since I’ve met Grant, and now, I’m clawing at what little I have left. Besides, I’ve barely talked with my friend of five years about it. How the hell am I supposed to talk to a man I’ve known less than six months?
Going to my home also isn't an option.
That man will track me down the minute I don't pop up. But wherever I do go, I’ll have to toss and turn all night, knowing that I slipped and fell face-first into a huge mistake and relented yet another sliver of myself that I didn’t intend for him to see.
Why on earth is the slope of staying on the course of logic so steep with Grant Brexton?
My index finger taps the wheel as I watch a nearby traffic light go through its cycles several times. What to do?The third time it flicks to green, something settles into place.
I pick up my phone and call a person who Brexton has probably forgotten about since I don’t talk about her much.
Kitty.
It only rings twice.
“Hey, girlie,” she says. “What's up?”
“Kitty, would it be all right if I spent the night with you?”
“Hell ya.” She’s not going to ask questions. “Get your ass here now.”