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“Come on, Coop. You know me.” ‘Coop’ gave David a very ungracious look.
David’s words from earlier rushed into my head, stinging all over again. I had no desire to leave his side. But he’d made it clear that he didn’t want me around, and the last thing I wanted was to give him another opportunity to burn me.
“I appreciate the offer David, but I think I’ll go with Detective Cooper.”
“Olivia, no, wait,” he said, grasping my arm and withdrawing when I recoiled. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know you’re home safe, even if that means I get in Coop’s car with you.”
“I’m not taking you home, Dylan,” Cooper warned.
My insides quivered with indecision, thrown off by David’s mixed signals. Just a few hours earlier, he never wanted to see me again. “If you insist. Detective, I don’t want to put you out. I can go with David.”
“Are you sure? It’s no problem at all.”
David gave a dismissive nod and crossed his arms. “You heard her,” he said. I confirmed with a tired dip of my head.
“K.” Cooper’s shoulders slumped back into position. “If you need anything else, you call me,” he insisted, never taking his eyes off me. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow, Fish.” He slapped David lightly on the shoulder. They said good-bye, and he ran to catch up with the other officers.
David surprised me by pulling me from the wall and into his arms. Despite my mind’s wary protests, I felt myself let go infinitesimally, safe in his clutch and hidden from the world. His muscular arms wrapped around me so that I could barely move. “Relax,” he willed softly. I loosened my shoulders the best I could and rested my head on his hard chest.
“Oh,” I pushed him away reluctantly. “I don’t want to get blood on you.”
He leaned down and touched my cheek gingerly, but I flinched and pulled away. “Did he hit you?”
I was silent. He shut his eyes, sighed heavily, and opened them again. He was so close that I was hit with the brackish musk of fresh sweat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned his back to me. “I should have fucking shot him,” he said to himself. Fabric strained against his shoulders, and I thought for a moment he might burst through his suit and reveal himself as the Hulk. I knew better than to point out that if he had, he’d be in the back of the car instead of Mark. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said finally.
“No,” I replied with certainty. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” he asked, incredulous. “You’re shaking.”
I hadn’t realized, but once he’d enveloped me, I had begun to tremble. “I’m really fine,” I insisted, trying to even my tone. “I’m just frightened.”
He pulled me close again, running his hand slowly over my back. After a beat, he gathered the hair from my neck with his hand, sweeping it in to a loose ponytail. He pulled lightly so I glanced up and with his other hand, lifted my chin higher so he could inspect the cut. As my head was almost vertical, I looked away awkwardly, unsure of where to focus until he finally relented. “It’s just a surface wound,” he said, licking his finger and wiping away some blood. Relieved, I gave a short nod.
“Does anything else hurt?” he asked.
I hesitated.
“Olivia.”
“Well, not much,” I lied, touching the back of my head. With every moment that the adrenaline subsided, the pain increased.
“Come on, we’re going to Northwestern,” he said.
“No,” I pleaded with him. “Please, I’ve had a rough night, I can’t take anymore commotion,” I said, trembling harder.
“Okay, shh,” he said rubbing my arms. “You could have a concussion though,” he reasoned softly.
“I don’t think so,” I said, and he smiled for the first time all night.
“You’re a little stubborn, aren’t you?” he asked, and my only response was a glare. “All right, all right. No hospital. But tell him he needs to stay up and watch you tonight, it’s very important, in case of a concussion. It’s necessary to check on you - ”
“Who?” I interrupted, dazedly.
“Who?” he echoed. “Your husband.”
“Oh. Bill,” I nodded. “Of course. He’s in New York.”
David paused and looked at me for a moment. “You’ll come with me then. I can watch you tonight.”
“No, no,” I rebuffed. “I can call Gretchen,” I said, retrieving my phone. We looked at each other as I held the phone to my ear, not sure if I wanted her to answer. When I heard the familiar greeting of her voicemail, I ended the call.
“No answer,” I said. “I’ll try Lucy.”
He gently took the phone from my hands, and I looked up at him.
“It’s late. They’ll be asleep. Come with me,” he said. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t expect you to do that.”
“I want to do it.”
“What about everything you said earlier?”
“Forget it. We can start tomorrow,” he said with a goofy smile. He placed his arm on my shoulder to lead me out to the street, but I stopped.
“Don’t,” I said, moving out from under his arm. “I can’t forget it. I’m not going home with you.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he intoned. “But I’m not sorry I said it. I needed to be firm. I needed it to stick.”
“So? This isn’t firm. This isn’t making it stick. Look, it’s fine, I get it. It’s done. Just let me get a cab home. I don’t have a concussion.”
“I just said – Jesus, Olivia.” His harsh tone was suddenly deep with bass. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, especially now that I know you’re hurt. We can discuss what happened tomorrow, please, let’s just get through tonight.”
I heaved a sigh. His expression went from angry to concerned to hurt, all in the span of ten seconds. I relented finally, but made sure to keep enough distance that he couldn’t touch me again.
“I hope my car is still there,” he said as we walked.
“Hmm?”
“That was my car you almost ran into. I hopped out to chase you down.”
“Oh,” I said distractedly. I didn’t even remember a car in my flustered state. I followed him blindly, too tired and edgy to resist anymore. He opened the door of the Porsche for me, and we didn’t speak another word. Questions began to form as I reviewed the events of the night, but all I wanted was to lie down.
David parked in his designated spot under the building, and I followed him to double doors. He held a keycard up and they clicked audibly, allowing us to enter into a marbleized elevator bank. David placed his hand on my lower back and led me to the furthest car.
“Good evening, Mr. Dylan,” said a severe-looking man from behind his security desk. His eyes turned suspicious when he greeted me. I must look a hideous mess, I thought. Then I realized the look wasn’t because of my appearance, but because of the countless girls he must see pass through here under David’s arm.
“Gorman,” David said with a nod.
“Everything all right, sir?”
“Yes, thank you. A small altercation near my office, but it’s all taken care of.”
“It’s my fault, really,” I said, offering my hand. “I’m Olivia.”
“Pleasure to meet you, miss,” he said, taking my hand with mild surprise. “And I doubt that. But one must be careful on these streets late at night,” he offered. “Should I have anything sent up?”
“We’re all set,” David said. I could feel him watching me while we boarded the elevator, but I stood with my arms crossed, watching the numbers rise until we hit the top. The very top. The penthouse. Again, I wondered at his salary.
The doors opened to a simple marble foyer with a single door. I noticed the sag in David’s shoulders as he unlocked the door and realized he must also be tired.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, tossing his keys onto a circular table in the entryway. He motioned to the living room and di
sappeared through another door.
Once inside, it took me a minute to adjust to my surroundings. I removed my shoes and stepped from cold wooden planks onto a plush ivory carpet. Three steps down deposited me into an immaculate sunken living room with two pine green mid-century couches and a brown leather lounge chair. A monochromatic stone wall housed a cozy fireplace that was the focal point of the room. A glass coffee table, with a base fashioned from the same ebonized mahogany as the floor, held three small colorful abstract sculptures and a stack of design books.
The room was carefully curated, yet it didn’t have the vacant feeling I’d experienced in other upscale apartments. Perhaps the most mesmerizing part was the floor-to-ceiling white-paned windows that showcased Lake Michigan between great smooth columns.
“It’s not quite what I expected,” I called out. I scanned the view from the eighty-fourth floor and lifted my head to the vaulted ceilings ribbed with dark wood beams.
“Not bachelor pad enough for you?” he responded from the other room. I smiled to myself.
