Page 12 of Bought (BOUGHT TRILOGY #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Erin

I like how his hand locks around my forearm. I shouldn’t. He tightens his grip, demanding, “What is it? Who is in trouble?”

“It’s nothing.” I shake my head and tug my arm from his grip.

“Tell me,” he demands again. “Now.”

As much as I want to tell him, this is not his problem. I've already got his money. I’ve been working to deceive him.

His focus should be on saving his family from the Morettis. I can’t add three more names to that list. And after seeing the destruction the Morettis rained over the Bachman’s cherished Village?

I don’t even know that they have the resources to take on our problem at the moment.

It’s not fair to drag him in any further than I already have.

Think quickly, Erin. Fix this.

I glance at the chandelier above us. It's a large circle illuminated from within, decorated with sparkling crystals. Two smaller, identical circles sit inside.

“Aliens,” I say.

“Huh?”

“UFO. Right there.” I point up. He glances up, confused. Work harder, Erin. I force a silly grin. “It was meant to be a joke. Sorry.”

His brow tightens. He stretches out his fingers, clasping his hands together as if he needs to keep them busy. He looks ready to murder me right now.

“Bad joke,” I say, repeating, “Sorry.”

He rubs his large hand over the back of his neck. “Don’t joke like that. It’s not safe.”

There it is. “Okay,” I whisper as it spreads through my chest. That warm, fuzzy feeling I get when he’s looking out for me. Warm like the lining of the coat he bought me. Warm like his strong arms holding me.

I feel bad for making him worry. I should never have let myself slip up by getting so close to the truth. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He’s staring at me as if he doesn’t believe it, like he has more questions.

He leaves me with no other option.

I use the excuse that shuts every man up. “I need the loo. Be right back.” Dabbing my face with the cloth napkin from my lap, I excuse myself from the table.

“The loo,” he repeats with a light laugh.

There’s still worry in his gaze as he watches me walk away.

I need a moment to breathe. Out of his line of sight, I slip past the bathroom, find the hall I need, and go out the back door of the restaurant, desperate for the cold rush of air that cools my face.

“Get a grip. Don’t do that again.” I pull the coat tighter around my shoulders.

He’s good to me. Too good. Especially when I have to steal from him tonight, my stomach turns at the thought, tasty chicken now feels heavy and curdling in my gut.

I’m turning to go back inside when headlights pierce through the dark alley, arriving before the car itself comes into view—a black, low-riding Cadillac. The windows are so heavily tinted you can't see inside.

My stomach twists queasily, and a white heat rushes over my face with sudden realization; the Morettis have been following me all night.

They may have been following me for days.

There’s no point running. I take my coat from my shoulders and slip my arms inside the sleeves. I pull it snug like armor and walk toward the driver's side door.

Until now, I’ve only communicated with the Morettis through Bambi. She knew we were in trouble and spoke to her brother, Valentino, on my behalf.

To ask for a favor.

Then, the calls from a blocked number arrived.

This is the first time I will see the face behind the veiled threats on the other end of the phone. My heart clenches, tightening my chest as the window rolls down.

He’s smaller than he sounded on the phone. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less dangerous. He’s one of those men who hold tension in their wiry, taut muscles. The ones who slip in and slice your throat before you even get the chance to scream.

Tension runs through me.

Too much late-night true crime, Cass. Thanks.

I swallow hard. I’m stuck in the middle of a damn Dateline episode, aren’t I? The girl’s in trouble, about to be killed by one of several men after her. We won’t know who pulled the trigger until the end.

Valentino’s staring at me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am. I shake my head to clear it.

He asks, “Do you have it?”

“I haven’t had a chance. He hasn’t left me alone for a single second.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” His dark gaze scans as it moves over the back of the upscale building. Even the alleyway exit has a charming awning with twinkling white lights underneath.

Keep it simple. I shrug. “He asked me to dinner.”

“Well, you’d better make sure he asks you back home.” Bullets pierce his gaze, hitting me in my constricted chest. “Do whatever you have to.”

“I will,” I promise.

His gaze holds me as tightly as Lucian held my arm moments ago, saying, “Don’t leave without it.”

I nod, turning to hurriedly re-enter the building without waiting for him to excuse me.

I need to get back to his apartment. Surely the next logical step is sex. That horrible dread pool of excitement quakes in. I want more of that earthshattering feeling he gave me with his tongue.

I want to know what it feels like to have him inside me.

I dash into the loo to inspect my face. The mascara hasn’t moved, thank god, but the curls have weakened to waves.

Will I look different tomorrow? Will I feel different?

Losing my virginity is the least of my concerns. I wasn’t saving myself for anyone special.

It’s mine to do what I want. Mostly, I’m curious, ready to see what all the fuss is about. What would it feel like to have him inside me? That bear hug of his body locked against mine. My naked breasts pressed against his puckered scars.

Why is my mind wandering like this? I’m in a do-or-die situation. There’s no such thing as fight, flight, or fantasize.

I tame a few stray hairs. Focus, Erin. Every ounce of my energy needs to go into getting back to his place and winning my treasure hunt to earn our protection.

As I reach for the bathroom door, a notification from my phone catches my eye. I look down. It’s Ryan in the tub, bubbles up to his shoulders, a foam beard and wig like Santa’s as he laughs, toy military boats clutched in his fingers.

Below the picture, there’s a text from Cass saying, ‘ I know not to call, but I had to send a pic!’

I need to protect them. I need to raise the stakes. I head back to my target.

I’m trying something new with him. Seduction. I walk back to the table, paying attention to my steps, rolling my hips in a way I hope is attractive rather than ducklike.

I slide back into my seat.

“So,” I reach for his arm, coyly as I can, “What do you want for dessert?”

My words, as sexy as they sound, seem forced.

“What’s up with you?” He notices and pulls away. His brow tightens.

I flutter my lashes like the women in the movies do. “You are.”

“Did you get high in the bathroom or something?” He looks like he wants to laugh and slides my half-empty wine glass away from me.

I lean in, the memory of his tongue heating my whisper. “It’s time for you to take something from me.”

His ice melts a little. His eyes flicker to my cleavage, then back to my face. “And what is that?”

The words ease out, hot honey. Sticky, coating the space between us, drawing us together in a way we’ll never be able to untangle.

“It’s time,” I say, “to take what you bought.”