Hugo drops his baby blues to the folded-up notes I’m thrusting his way before raising his eyes back to mine. “I think my yearly salary will cover the fare.” After gesturing for Tatiana to join him up front, he mutters, “You know how to reach me if you need me.”
He flashes Tatiana a grin that could have her forgetting she’s stained with the murky undertones of the prostitution conglomerate before he signals that he wants to merge into the traffic-clogged street.
I enter the lobby of my building even faster than he finds an opening, and even quicker than that, Isabelle evades me for the second time this evening.
“Mr. Holt,” greets a man in his mid-thirties when I approach the security desk.
I return his welcome with a dip of my chin before instructing, “I need you to stop elevator two and return it to the lobby.”
“Elevator two?” he double-checks, unsure if this is a test or not.
“Yes.Now.” My commands are more barked out than articulated with the cultured aloofness my voice generally holds. It is with good reason. The longer Isabelle believes she has sidestepped my wrath, the less enticing our game of cat and mouse will be.
He chokes on the brick my snapped tone lodged in his throat before doing as asked.
“Make sure it doesn’t stop on any floors during its return to the lobby.”
“Understood,” he replies, the throb in his throat quickening with excitement.
Even someone with a gold band wrapped around their ring finger understands the chase is often the most thrilling part of a relationship.
It was what kept the flame lit during my six months with Ophelia.
After shutting down the quiver my jaw always gets when memories of my past surface, I move to the front of the elevator banks. The conceitedness swelling my chest doubles when the elevator Isabelle dashed into descends faster than it ascended.
A rush of euphoria thickens my veins when the elevator doors pop open, and Isabelle’s wide eyes stray to mine. “You’re an asshole,” she mutters through clenched teeth once she has her breathing under control.
I grin at her snarled comment, conscious her eyes expose her true feelings. She is as pleased by the chase as I am with the opportunity to chase her.
My contentment doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on her, though.
She kissed a man—twice.
That deserves some sort of repercussion.
After slipping the security officer the folded-up bills I tried to hand Hugo, I shake his hand before entering the elevator. The tick my jaw hasn’t relented all night turns calamitous when I spot a man hogging the elevator panel. His pupils are massive. The dilation of his eyes has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with switching Isabelle’s panic to ecstasy.
“Get out,” I snap, uncaring he is several inches taller than me. I’ve taken down bigger men, and with my testosterone at an all-time high, I won’t even break into a sweat this time around.
Like a man aware he doesn’t run things around here, Isabelle’s elevator companion scurries into the lobby without another snapped word leaving my mouth.
When Isabelle tries to follow him, I snatch up her wrist before she can. The jealousy-laced blood keeping my body temperature sky high boils over with vehement need when not even the weakness of my hold can stop Isabelle’s body from responding to my touch. The hairs on her arms prickle as her seductive smell overrides the ghastly scent of the cheap aftershave lingering in the air.
She’s on the verge of calling in defeat, but like all good battles, gives it one last shot to remain supreme. After freeing herself from my grasp, she braces her back against the mirrored wall at the back of the compact space.
Her eyes pop open when the elevator jerks to life from me pushing the button for her floor. It reminds her of the control I have in this town and sees her lashing out. “You’re a pig.”
I brush off her claim with a shrug, mindful it’s more based on jealousy than her true feelings. “And yet, you still want to fuck me.”
“You wish,” she snarls, desperately reaching for the baton she’ll never fully control in my presence.
With my arrogance at an all-time high and my wish to remove Ryan’s touch from her lips, I inhale a large breath through my nose before muttering in my exhale, “Deny it all you want, Isabelle, but I can smell how aroused you are.”
When nothing but unbridled hankering fills her alluring gaze, I bridge the gap between us. She holds her hand out in front of herself, wordlessly requesting for me to stop. Her wish to delay the inevitable doesn’t last long. Once our eyes lock and hold, her ruse is foiled. Unlike the morning she woke up in my apartment dazed and confused, there are no silent pleas for me to leave her alone or not to be touched. She wants to be devoured.
Consumed.
She wants to be claimed.
