Page 13 of Serena (Shattered Queens #1)

After some whining from her friends about how tired they are, she gives in.

I grab her by the arm and place my other hand on her lower back, ensuring that I have a firm hold on her so she doesn’t fall.

I guide her to the passenger seat and make sure she’s comfortable.

I reach across her lap to buckle her in, and my arm grazes her breasts.

Those breasts in that top; it has me salivating.

I look up and stare into her brown eyes and lose myself in them.

Being this close to her is testing my willpower.

Time stands still waiting for one of us to say something.

To acknowledge the touch. I want to know if my touch affects her the way her mere presence does me.

With a frustrated sigh, I move to my side of the car and start driving.

“Don’t you need my address?” she asks.

“I already have it. Elias gave it to me before you arrived.”

“You know, I can take care of myself, and I don't need you to take me home. I’m perfectly capable.”

Is she serious right now? “You are capable, but you’re also drunk and can hardly stand.

There is no way you’re going to get into someone else's car. I’d rather put you in my car against your will and tie you down if I have to than let you get in a taxi.

” That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea.

Maybe I'll even gag her. I don’t say that part out loud.

“It seems like the three of you had a great time.” I smile because I know for a fact they did.

When I found out they were attending a concert, I wanted her to let loose and have fun.

If I couldn’t be there to look after her, I made sure someone was.

They had no idea that there was additional security around them.

Updates were being sent to me throughout the night.

When Serena called Elias, I thought the security detail had missed something.

“Are you going to give me a lecture about drinking, Mr. Kayde?”

“Ian,” I tell her again.

“It was fun. I love to dance when given the chance. I’m not at Yuri's level, but I have rhythm. Can’t say the same for Theo. Anyway, Mr. Kayde, I can take care of myself.”

“I. A. N,” I repeat, again. I know she’s messing with me. The smile on her face gives her away. “I know you can. You have one hell of a right hook.” She laughs, and damn, I want to hear that sound again and again. That laugh was only for me, not her friends, but me.

“I'm also a good shot.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You know how to shoot a gun? Do you go shooting often?” I’m trying not to sound so eager, but she’s sharing things about her life.

Plus, my dick isn’t getting the memo. I can feel it getting hard just imagining Serena with a weapon in her hands.

Lethal and perfect and all mine. She doesn’t know the last part… yet.

“Every once in a while. I took a safety class a couple of years back, and my friend suggested I get a small gun. At the time, Yuri and I were roommates, but when I moved into my own place, I decided to get one. It’s more for home security. I take kickboxing classes too.”

“Is there a reason you felt unsafe?”

She thinks about her answer. “No, just a girl living alone. Something that I’m sure you don’t have to worry about.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, look at you and look at me. We are worlds apart.”

It’s true. I’m a privileged man who can afford private security. Even my sister lives a privileged and somewhat sheltered life.

“You’re right.” That’s all I can say. “I prefer knives; they’re more inconspicuous, and you can get more creative when you need to hurt someone,” I share.

“Have you ever hurt someone?”

I don’t respond and let the silence do it for me. I have to ask the question that's been bothering me since dinner with Elias. I might as well do it with alcohol in her system. Aren’t people the most honest when inebriated?

“You also have friends looking out for you. Like Elias. You two seem very close. He seems very protective of you. Is there history there?”

“History?” Her eyebrows furrow.

“More than friends?” I don’t sugarcoat it.

“Did you just ask me if I’ve ever slept with Elias? Elias Lobo, my best friend’s brother and my other best friend’s husband?!”

“Yes,” I say point-blank. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.

“That’s none of your business, and it’s very presumptuous of you to ask. You don't even know me. Maybe you’re deflecting, and you’re the one sleeping with your friends.”

“Hermosa, if you want to know if I’m fucking someone, you can just ask. But to answer your question, no, I don’t fuck my friends. If I want a fuck, there is a list of women I can call. No strings attached.”

She might have been drunk when she got into my car, but this fired her up.

“Well, that’s good to know, not that it matters to me. But we have something in common. We both have people we can call for an easy fuck. As far as Elias, he and I are just friends. God, you’re such a dick.”

She gets out, slamming my car door, and heads into the building.

Breathe, Ian, just breathe.

I quickly send Miles a text to check Serena's phone for any conversations with other men. I catch up to her just as the elevator is closing. She looks pissed. Well, guess what? So am I. Serena is nothing like her namesake. Calm? Tranquil? She is anything but, always on the defense, ready for a fight. If she wants one, I will gladly give her one. I realize she didn’t answer my question, which only pisses me off more.

We stand there in silence. She doesn’t look my way.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be gone?”

“I told Elias that I would take you to your apartment.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman? My, how good of you, Mr. Kayde.”

I don’t miss the condescending tone in her voice. So I don’t try to correct her.

“Well, Ms. Nerva, whoever told you that has been lying to you. I am anything but a gentleman.” This seems to piss her off even more.

She doesn’t say a word as we exit the elevator.

When we get to her front door, she takes out her keys and unlocks it.

Then turns her whole body to face me in challenge.

We don’t speak, both still annoyed with one another.

I inch closer to her. I pull an object out of my pocket and begin to slide it up her body, caressing the curves of her hips, the softness of her stomach, gliding up between her breasts and up her neck until it’s in front of her.

A pocketknife. I flip it open, showcasing the sharp steel blade.

Tracing her collarbone with the tip of the blade, then sliding it under the shoulder strap of her top.

With one swift move, the fabric slices, her features unwavering.

I secure the knife and put it in her hands.

“Always carry this with you.” Then I bend down and whisper, “You will not be fucking anyone but me. If anyone, and I mean anyone, touches you, I will kill them. Now get inside your fucking apartment.” She does as she’s told. I hear the locks click, and I walk away. I need to blow off some steam.