I swallow roughly, taking a step forward, but his hands don’t leave me.
“I’m fine,” I mutter. “You can let me go.”
His hands fall off my waist, leaving prickles under the material of my dress. I fight the urge to shudder.
“Let’s go back inside,” LJ says in a low voice, “before we make more of a scene out here.”
“Can you just give me a minute? I need some air.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I fold my arms, keeping my back to him. “LJ, please.”
“Fine. Don’t be too long.”
LJ’s footsteps back away, and I finally let out a breath of relief. As the swing of the front doors signals LJ’s exit, a new sound snatches my attention. A rev that makes my heart skip a beat.
My stomach twists as I turn toward the parking lot. I freeze when I see him. Dax Malone, straddling his humming motorcycle.
What the heck is he doing here? Is this an intimidation tactic? Does he want to berate me again?
Dax leans forward and rests his arms on the handlebars.
Is he seriously just staying here?
I tilt my head, waiting for him to ride away. But he doesn’t. He continues to sit there, taunting me.
I eye the doorman and notice his growing suspicion of Dax. The last thing I need is him confronting Dax, who then tells him he’s on the property grounds because of me.
That’s it. He has to go.
I click my heels down the path towards the running motorcycle.
“Hi there,” he says with a cheesy grin.
“Umm. What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling shaky on my approach.
A teasing smirk tugs at his lips. “What? Don’t you like when people turn up to your place unannounced?”
“You’re here because I followed you home?”
His expression grows serious. “I want to know why you were there. There has to be an angle.”
I shiver under his intense gaze. “There was no ulterior motive. I just wanted to know you were safe.”
Dax rolls his eyes with a laugh. “What a load.”
A hurt gasp shoots out of me. “I was.”
“What is this?” Dax says, gesturing at the front facade of the club. “Is this how you rich kids pass the time? Find some charity case to snoop on until you get bored and look for the next?”
I place a trembling hand over my chest. “I didn’t call you a charity case. I just didn’t think you were well enough to ride your motorcycle. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have another accident.”
He tilts his head, looking me dead in the eyes. “And why would you care?”
“Because I saw you collapse at the hospital, and it scared me,” I reply. “I tried to hold you up when you were out cold.”
“No one else in that hospital cared about me,” he says in a low voice. “Why would you?”
