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His grip on my waist tightened, and once again, fear swept over me. While one hand held my waist, he pulled me closer until I could feel his erection pressed hard against my belly. His other hand dipped down to find the split in my dress, and his fingers trailed up my thigh until they were almost to my panties’ edge. I twisted and tried to break free from his grasp. He smirked as he looked at me through hooded eyes, keeping up his brutal pace.
I finally wrestled myself out of his embrace, my arm already raised to slap his smug face, when another hand gripped mine. “I’m sorry, Donovan, but the lady promised me a dance.”
I stood, stunned at this turn of events. “Sorry, King, didn’t know she was yours.” The man looked eerily pale at this stranger’s words and held up his hands in surrender. He turned and slunk away like a wounded puppy. When I finally looked up at this stranger still holding my hand, I did a double take. “It’s you,” was all I could get out. His eyes narrowed on mine before he spoke.
“It seems you have a nasty habit of getting yourself into precarious situations.” His voice was raspy like he was a smoker, or maybe that was just his voice. It was sexy as hell, though the low vibrato had me mesmerized, and I realized I was staring at his mouth, willing him to continue speaking. But then his words caught up with my brain.
“That’s not fair.” I spat the words like venom. “You don’t have a clue about the situation you walked into.”
Pulling me away from the dance floor to a dark corner, he kept his gaze laser-focused on my mouth as he spoke. “Listen, Buttercup, men like Victor Donovan are the ones who don’t play fair.” I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. “That’s what I thought. The corner of his mouth twitched, and his jaw flexed. “He’s a smooth talker who will do anything to get you into his bed, and you will wake up the next day to your body splattered all over the tabloids.”
His words had me reeling. If this were true, I was going to be sick. I batted his hand away from mine and turned, rushing for the door. I only made it a few feet outside the venue until I was retching over the azaleas. I hadn’t eaten all day, but the alcohol I consumed made a reappearance.
It was only when I felt rough hands gathering my hair away from my face that I realized I wasn’t alone in my humiliation. When I was sure I was done making a fool of myself, I stood, and a folded handkerchief was placed in my hands. For the first time since I stalked out of the ballroom, my eyes met his. Dark navy twinkled in the moonlight.
“Thank you.” My reply was weak at best, but I managed a slight smile as I carefully wiped my mouth.
He hesitated a moment before he spoke. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”
The words were like salve to an open wound. The events of the night, hell of the past three months, played out in my mind. Julia and Weston left an hour ago after the awkward birthday blunder. I did need a ride back to the hotel, so I nodded with flushed cheeks of embarrassment. He punched some numbers into his phone, and almost immediately, a dark sedan rolled up in front of us.
He opened the door, allowing me to slide in, then he joined me in the back seat. The first thing I noticed as I slid across the buttery soft leather was the glass partition which separated the front seat from the back. I heard of this feature but had never been in a vehicle that actually had one.
A mixture of excitement and apprehension flooded my mind. What was expected of me during the drive back to my hotel? Would he make small talk?
I didn’t have long to ponder those questions as he pulled out his phone and made a call. I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I gleaned enough to know he was pissed off at the person on the other end. The air was suddenly charged with so much electricity, I could not breathe, much less speak for fear of being electrocuted by the lingering sparks. The way he commanded the conversation was the hottest thing I had ever experienced. He ended the call just as we pulled into the hotel parking garage.
I felt the awkwardness again as I reached for the door handle. To my surprise, he allowed me to open it, remaining in his seat. I turned back to look at him, and our eyes met once again. “Thank you again, you know, for the two saves. My name is Molly, by the way.”
He didn’t answer with his name, and I couldn’t remember what Donovan called him. He just nodded. “Goodnight, Buttercup.”
I sat spellbound until the shrill ring of his phone broke the spell. I slid out of the seat as he answered the call. Watching the car disappear into the night, my heart was pounding in my chest, and I suddenly couldn’t catch my breath. I hadn’t needed my inhaler in weeks, at least not before the Jordan debacle at Club Max.
I opened my purse, clutching it for dear life. After two rescue breaths, I could finally breathe without gasping. What the hell was that about? The effects of the alcohol were fading as I slowly made my way to room one-ninety-four. I fell into bed, exhausted, but I couldn’t get the image of navy eyes, soft hands, and sexy voice out of my head. They would follow me into my dreams.
Chapter 3
Courtland
How could I let her get under my skin like that? I didn’t do kind, sweet, selfless shit. Most people know I’m ruthless, and they call me a powerful asshole. I guess that’s the truth. That’s how I stayed on top. Don’t get close to people. Don’t let them in. Besides my parents and my three brothers, no one got in. Hell, I’d kept my own family at arm’s length for years. They didn’t have a clue about the demons that plague me, and if I had anything to say about it, they never will.
I didn’t have time to go to Stone Creek, South Carolina. Where the hell was this place, anyway? Was it even on the map? My parents had been trying to get me to visit since they moved there six months ago. I’d been making excuses since then, but when Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last month, I knew I needed to make the effort.
As I prepared for this trip, my mind wouldn’t slow down. Thoughts filtered in faster than I could comprehend. Blonde hair, emerald eyes, patches of freckles dotted across a cute button nose. Curves that wouldn’t quit. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Somehow, I found myself not once but twice coming to her rescue from two selfish pricks. Her ex, who for sure didn’t deserve her, and last night, that fuck-off Victor Donovan. Someone needed to put a bullet in his brain and spare the rest of the world from his arrogance. Too bad it wouldn’t be me. I may have been a heartless bastard who has committed crimes for the sake of business, but I would never stoop to murder, no matter how much the fucker deserved it.
After rescheduling the next two weeks and promising a shit ton of perks to my best friend and business partner, I was on my way. Although the flight was only two hours, it seemed like an eternity, with a crying baby and a spoiled politician seated directly across from me. First class on this airline was not what I was used to. After we landed and I collected my bag that the airline made me check because it was one pound over the weight limit, I strolled outside to wait for my ride. I wanted to rent a car so I could come and go as I pleased, but everything was booked out for two weeks. The lady at the rental counter mentioned something about a town festival going on. I wasn’t sure why that made a difference, but apparently, this little town was definitely on the map.
It wasn’t long before I heard the familiar roar of an F250 Raptor R. Jackson, my second younger brother. I was the oldest of four boys and there was Ben, my twin. We were fraternal, meaning we barely looked related, and we were as different as night and day. Jackson was six years younger than us, followed by Knight, who was ten years younger. He was definitely the spoiled baby of the family. Although he would argue until he was blue in the face that he was just well loved. It was a running family joke among us. My three siblings left New York not long after our parents relocated to this quaint little town of Stone Creek. According to our mother, it was straight out of a Hallmark movie. Gag me with a wooden spoon.
I loaded my bag into Jackson’s truck, slapped him on the back, and we were headed toward our parents’ house. He was the brother most like me. We were both independent and didn’t like being told what to do. I still had scars from where we fought during our teenage years. I’m sure he does, too. Our parents gave up trying to run interference between us long ago. They always said, “The one you fight with the most is the one most like you.” Because of that, we grew up to be the closest despite the six-year age gap. Jackson had just come out of a nasty divorce and needed to put distance between himself and his ex. He sold his restaurant in the city, moved to Stone Creek, and bought the local bar, now known as Jack’s Place.
After driving a few miles, I decided to break the silence. “So, Jack, how is Dad, really?” My brother side-eyed me as we tore down the road at max speed. He always had a thing for fast trucks and fast women. Another thing we had in common.
“Court, you know we wouldn’t have hounded you about coming down if it wasn’t serious. Dad’s prognosis is favorable, but the treatment is zapping his energy and his will. He needs all of us to rally, and that includes you as well.” I understood what my brother was saying. I really did, but he had to understand. I was running a multi-million-dollar tech corporation, and it wasn’t possible to leave it indefinitely. I was fortunate to have a reliable business partner in Nick. Besides being my best friend, he was the only person I trusted to run King Enterprises in my absence. With the Morgan deal looming, I couldn’t afford to stay away longer than the two weeks I had planned.
“I understand, Jack. You know I’ll be here when I can, and I will contribute in any way to Dad’s care.” Money. That’s what I meant. It was easier to just write a check and let my other brothers deal with the details. Throwing money at a situation has served me well. Is it the right thing to do in this case? Probably not, but it’s not the first time I’ve dealt with guilt in my life, and it won’t be the last.
The knot in my gut intensified as we rounded the corner and pulled into my parents’ drive. I hadn’t seen them since they moved here from Michigan. With Dad’s diagnosis, I wasn’t sure what would greet me. As I reached to open my door, I spotted my mom on the porch. Her smile could light up any cloudy day.
