My rejection is instant. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Take me there or I will go there on my own.”
“You’re not a member. You won’t even find it.”
“I’ve been in that world, Nick.Yourworld. Because I’m not naturally a bull like you does not mean I can’t be one if I need to be. And if you think I can’t make a few phone calls and find out where that club is, you underestimate me.”
“I have never underestimated you a day that I’ve known you, but you won’t get in the door.”
“Then I’ll stand there until they call you and you can let me in.”
She will. I see it in her eyes. “Why do you need to do this?”
“I need to know who you really are.”
“You knowme, Faith.”
“I don’t want any more surprises.”
Those words grind through me and make my decision. Because there are more surprises to come. I have to let her resolve this one from start to finish before we get there. I take her hand and lace our fingers together. “Come with me,” I say, and I start walking, opening the office door and leading her into the lobby. I don’t stop until we’re at the elevator, and I don’t give her a chance to withdraw any more than she has already.
I punch the call button and pull her in front of me, and when the doors open, I say, “There are cameras inside.”
“Which won’t matter if I’m alone. I need space.”
“Too bad,” I say as I walk us inside, holding onto her every step of the way. In a matter of seconds, I’m holding her in front of me again, nice and close, my hand on her belly, and we’re riding toward the garage. “You don’t have to do this,” I say near her ear, as if me saying this will miraculously make her believe it.
“I do,” she says, her hand coming down on mine, fingers closing tightly around it, barely contained anger in the death grip. “And on some level, I know you know I do.”
I didn’t know this would be her reaction, but in hindsight, I should have. I know Faith. When she spins out of control, she rebels against the free-spirited artist that she is at her core, and tries to force control. The car halts and the doors open and I take her hand again, leading her into the garage. She digs in her heels. “I’ll follow you. I’m parked—”
“Negative,” I say. “You ride with me. You stay with me. Or you don’t go. And before you even think about arguing, this is non-negotiable, Faith.”
Her expression tightens but she clearly reads just how insistent I am on this. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll ride with you.”
I’m already walking, leading her to the Audi and clicking the locks. I open the passenger door and hold it open for her, reluctantly letting go of her hand. She inhales, as if steeling herself to be trapped in a cage with me, before ducking into the vehicle and settling into her seat. I stand there for several beats, fighting the urge to pull her out of the car again, kiss her, and force her to listen to reason. But I can’t force Faith to do anything, and if I could, I doubt I’d want her so fucking much. She’s made up her mind and I have to ride the ride with her.
Still, as I shut her inside the Audi and round the rear of the vehicle, I mentally argue a case to go home instead of the club, knowing she’ll rebel, but wanting to do it anyway. I’ll take her there. I’ll tie her to the bed and I’ll make her come so many times she forgets the club ever existed.
But she won’t forget.
Fuck.
I open the driver’s side door and join Faith inside, that sweet amber and vanilla scent of hers colliding with the punch of anger filling the car, and proving to be a brutal cocktail. Wanting this over with, I crank the car in reverse, and pull us out of the space. I don’t turn on the radio. I want Faith to talk to me, to ask questions, but she doesn’t. Once we’re on the road, silence consumes us. Thick, heavy, a weight that promises to bury me, and us, alive. I want to say something to fix this, but I go back to knowing Faith. If I push her right now, she will thicken the wall she’s now thrown between us.
So, for fifteen minutes, we endure a wordless ride, until finally we pull up to the private gates of the club, a mansion that sits on the edge of an elite neighborhood. I roll down my window and key in the entrance code, making it painfully clear that I still have access to the facility. The gates open and I pull us through them and we travel the long path hugged by trees and manicured foliage. Once I turn us onto the horseshoe drive, I stop in front of the mansion, holding up my hands to both windows and valets.
I turn to her and before she knows my intent, I have cupped her neck and pulled her to me. “While we are here, I am your fucking king. You do what I say. You stay by my side. You hold my arm or hand. This, too, is non-negotiable, and I swear to fucking God, Faith, if you disobey me on this, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. Do you understand?”
She breathes out. “Yes.”
I want to kiss her, but I don’t. I hate her being here too damn much and I will not risk her reading me in any other direction. “Stay,” I order instead. “I’ll come around and get you.”
I don’t wait for her agreement. She doesn’t get a fucking opinion while we’re in this place. I exit the car and speak to the valet, a thirty-something guy named Rick, who’s been with the club for a decade. “Hold the car up front,” I tell him. “We won’t be long. Is Kurt here?”
“He is.”
“Have him meet me in the foyer if he’s not indisposed at the moment.” I palm him a large bill, and round the car, where Faith thankfully has listened and stayed inside. I grind my teeth and force myself to open her door. She slides her legs to the ground and I offer her my hand. She hesitates, damn it, she hesitates, and it kills me. It also pisses me off. I squat down, lowering my voice for her ears only. “You aren’t getting out or going anywhere without touching me,” I assure her, “so slide back in and we’ll leave or,” I offer her my hand again, “take my fucking hand.”