And now Xander’s saying he’s going to kill him, and I think he’s actually going to do it. Xander doesn’t bluff. He might not have grown up in the areas that I did, but he still grew up on the streets. Running them, even. He and his brothers. This is Las Vegas, and they are the Savage family, after all.
I should tell Xander not to do it. Ask him to let the guy go and forget it ever happened. If I push hard enough, he might give in and let the guy go. But I think… I think right now, I like thatXander’s made the decision, and I don’t have to. All he wants me to do is close my eyes and rest, and I can do that because something about the way he tells me what to do feels more like he’s saying, “I care,” and I want that to be true.
The car stops, and when Kian opens the back door, I climb off Xander’s lap. Xander tries to stop me, gripping my waist tightly, but I push his hands away.
“I can walk. I don’t need to be carried.”
Iwantto be carried by him, but I’m not saying that out loud. Just because he got me out of the immediate danger that way doesn’t mean he wants to continue to do it.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you tonight, Quinn.” Kian holds out his hand to help me climb out. “I’ll be looking into this immediately with Beckett and Caleb. We’ll see what needs to be done to tighten security. Until then, here’s my card. It has my direct number on it. You can call me if you need anything. It could be a bandage or an on-call therapist if you need someone to talk to, okay?”
Before I can take the card, Xander slides out of the car and snatches it from his brother. “The only person she’ll be calling for anything will be me. So take this card and shove it up your ass.”
Then he flicks it at Kian, who is smiling smugly at his brother. Xander mutters something under his breath about meddling brothers as he slams the door shut.
He wraps his arm around me and leads me to the penthouse elevator that only the person who lives up there uses, but I stop him. “Wait, that doesn’t stop on any of the lower floors.”
“I know. I’m taking you to my place.”
I shake my head. “No, Xander. I want to go home. To my room, where all my things are that make me feel safe and comfortable.”
“I’m not leaving you alone right now,” he answers firmly, his jaw set in a tight line.
In other words, either I’m going home with him or he’s coming home with me. And as much as I want to see Xander’s personal space, I really want to crawl into my bed and cry.
“Fine. I can sleep on the floor, and you can have the bed.”
Xander nudges me into the other elevator and pushes the fourth-floor button, then moves over to me so we’re inches apart. He doesn’t cage me in or crowd me, but his presence is right there.
“Baby girl, for tonight I’m going to forget that you just offered to sleep on the fucking floor.” He shoots me a stern glare. “I’m going to take you into your apartment and help you get ready for bed, whereyou’llsleep, because over my dead fucking body will you ever sleep on the ground. And tomorrow, when you’re feeling better, we’re going to have a little discussion about the things you say about yourself and the sacrifices you seem to make for everyone else but yourself.”
Oh.
Well.
That sounds ominous. My clit tingles at the hard edge of his voice. When he called himself Daddy earlier, I nearly moaned. Am I that obvious with my kink? I mean, I try not to make it too apparent. It’s not like I’ve called him Daddy out loud. Maybe once or twice in my dreams. But he wouldn’t know that.
Wait. Did he call himself Daddy becausehe’sinto it? I’m not even sure how to define what I like. Jason was never willing to explore it with me. So, other than a handful of romance books I’ve gotten from thrift stores over the years, I can’t define exactly what I want. I just know that when Xander touches me and talks to me, it’s different. He makes me feel special. Maybe I’m just hoping, but I think he feels it, too.
The elevator doors open, and we step out. I’ve never been so glad for the keypad lock on my front door.
“My purse. It’s still in my locker.” I look behind me like I’m about to turn around and head back to work to get it, but I’m not sure I’d even have the energy to make it to the elevator.
“I’ll get it later, baby. Don’t worry about it. Right now, your only job is to let me take care of you.”
Why does he keep saying that? How is he going to take care of me? I’m a big girl. I don’t need him to hover.
As soon as we’re inside, Xander locks the door and moves through the dim space like it’s ingrained in his memory, even though he’s only been here a couple of times.
“Where are you going?” he asks when I start for the bathroom.
“Uh, to the bathroom?” Why am I asking? It’s not a question. I have to pee. The asshole who attacked me is lucky he didn’t get a golden shower with how badly I needed, andstillneed, to go.
“Do you need help, baby?” he asks, striding toward me like he’s about to follow me in.
What?
Is he serious?
