Page 5

Linzey

“So where are you going tonight?” I asked Adler as we took the elevator up to Marigold and Booker’s palatial penthouse. My home was luxurious; theirs was fit for royalty.

“Booker and I are grabbing a couple beers at The Keg House ,” he answered, naming a bar I’d heard of but had never been to. I should have asked him about his plans earlier, but admittedly, I’d been annoyed. Whether it was at myself or at him was a toss up.

I’d been frustrated and angry at him when he’d knocked earlier, interrupting my post-run stretching. So when he’d invited me to dinner, he’d gotten a knee-jerk refusal. I hadn’t even been nice. Instead, I’d snapped, “No!” and slammed the door.

Way to prove you’re not a kid, Linzey , I berated myself.

It had been childish.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Why couldn’t I get a grip on my emotions?

My old therapist said it was because I was dealing with CPTSD—complex post traumatic stress disorder—from what had happened to me four years ago.

I supposed she was right. I mean, she was paid to know what the heck she was talking about.

Talking to her really had helped me to heal until she moved across the country to get married.

I’d been improving, but now I was stagnating in a mire of ick.

It was no wonder Adler didn’t want me. I was a hot mess.

Not just hot. More like a fry-an-egg-on-my-attitude, incinerating-your-will-to-live disaster.

Sometimes, though, I imagined he looked at me as if he might desire me.

And sometimes, when he held me in the dark after my nightmares, I almost believed we were in love.

Those few minutes gave me hope I’d find a way through my muddle.

My unrequited need for him was yet another of my demons. How many miles had I run to dull my craving for him. Hundreds.

And then, when he’d asked me out, I’d said no? What the heck? What was wrong with me? I’d regretted my refusal for every moment since I’d shut the door in his face. Sure, it wouldn’t have been a real date, but it was the closest I’d ever get.

Embarrassed and frustrated, again, I’d avoided him until he’d come to tell me that the car was there to pick us up.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I said quietly, hoping I wouldn’t need to explain what I meant. I glanced over at him from the corner of my eye and found his gaze locked on me, his mouth twisted in a deprecating, half smile.

“It’s alright. I just figured we’d both need to eat.”

Right. So it hadn’t been more, just as I’d suspected.

As if to remind me that I still hadn’t eaten, my stomach growled loudly as we stepped from the lift into the marble entryway of my sister’s home on the opposite side of Central Park from my building.

Her place was a two story penthouse with a rooftop terrace.

I knew it well. Booker had owned it before they’d gotten together, then I’d lived with them for a couple years until I’d insisted I wanted to strike out on my own.

My intention had been to move across the country to go to college, and while there, I’d planned to live on campus. To be a coed and experience all that college life had to offer.

My family and Adler had other ideas. The next thing I knew, I was setup for online courses and Booker had purchased the home where I now lived.

He gave it to me as a gift. It was chump change for him, being a prince and a multi-billionaire.

I appreciated it, but I knew it had mostly been about keeping his wife happy.

Of course.

Which was fine. He owed me nothing. No one owed me anything—except maybe Rod.

I wasn’t bitter about it or anything. I loved my sister more than anyone in the world, but just once I’d like… I’d like something to be about me.

I shook my head, knowing I was being selfish and jealous. I had everything I could want. Well, almost everything. I glanced over at Adler. I’d never have my true heart’s desire. I was too…tainted.

He caught my gaze, his brows drew together at whatever expression he saw on my face. I forced a smile, but then my stomach growled again, and his scowl deepened.

“Didn’t you eat? When was your last meal?” he demanded.

My shoulder lifted in a negligent half-shrug. It wasn’t something I really cared about.

Before he could say anything, and I could tell he definitely had something to say, Marigold swept into the entry with Booker on her heels. She pulled me into a tight hug.

“Hi, Sweetie! Guess what?” she exclaimed.

“What?”

“We’re going out with the guys. Have you ever been to Bradford’s ? It’ll be so fun. We can dance—”

“No dancing,” Booker interrupted. “It’s too hard for your protection team to keep you safe while you’re gyrating in a crowd of drunk suits out to forget the workweek. Someone might touch you.”

She trailed a finger along the placket of his shirt.

“You could come dance with me,” she murmured, a promise in her words. “And Adler can dance with Linz. She deserves to have some fun—even if her partner is her stiff, stone-faced bodyguard. No offense, Adler.”

Shock hit like lightning when Adler almost— almost —rolled his eyes at her.

“No offense taken, I’m sure,” he countered, smirking at her taunt.

What? What the heck? Who was this guy?

“We’ll talk about dancing after Linzey eats,” he added. “She… forgot …to eat today.”

“I didn’t say I forgot,” I whispered between gritted teeth, looking away from everyone.

“Right. You didn’t forget,” he growled, catching my chin and making me look at him. His stare probing into me. “You chose not to have anything.”

“What difference does it make anyway?” I shot back, tugging out of his grasp. “To you? What difference does it make to you?”

His lips parted and again, I saw his response right there, itching to escape, but he snapped his mouth shut and suppressed whatever it was.

His customary expressionless mask dropped back into place.

Damn it. Just when I’d been on the verge of seeing him worked up.

Was it actually possible to agitate my bodyguard?

His hand clamped around my upper arm, and he drew me closer to him, his lips near my ear. “When we get to the bar, you will eat,” he growled, low enough that neither my sister nor her husband could hear him. “And if you don’t, so help me God…”

“So help you what?” I whispered. I glanced toward my sister, only to find the other couple had suddenly disappeared, leaving us alone. So this wasn’t my imagination. There was something going on here.

How far could I push him?

“Little girl, do you really want to see what happens when you push me too far?”

Oops. Did I wonder that out loud? Shoot. I might have an unspoken obsession, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to know about it.

“Well?” he prompted, his dark challenge caressing over me, wrapping around me, tormenting me before he tightened his noose.

And damn it if a masochistic side of me didn’t want that.

“Yes,” I said, the word barely more than a breath. “I do want to see that. I do want to know what you’re like when you go over the edge.”

His fingers tightened on my arm, and I halfway hoped I’d develop a bruise there, proof that this fever-dream moment had actually happened. My breath caught when he suddenly let go. He didn’t move away, though.

He leaned even closer, and his lips brushed my temple as he spoke. “Haven’t you heard: be careful what you wish for. The consequences might not be what you expect.”

I licked my lips and looked up into his eyes. He should scare me. I should be scared. Terrified. I wasn’t. Of all the men in the world, Adler made me feel safe. There was nothing he could do to change that.

I’d trusted him from the moment he’d turned from rescuing Marigold and seen me chained to that wall.

It’ll be okay, he’d said, crouching next to me. You’re safe. No one’s hurting you; no one’s touching you without your permission. Never again. I swear to you.

Since that day, he’d kept his word. Probably a little too well.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” I ventured.

Adler quietly snorted his single laugh. “Oh, little girl, no. No, you don’t.”