Page 33 of Cruel Dynasty

Fingers wove through mine and I latched on — to him, to the world, to now. I did as he suggested focusing everything on my breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Gradually, the fuzzy sensation in my brain began to fade. After another minute, I dared to crack my eyelids open a fraction. Holden’s worried face stared back at me. As the panic attack subsided, the world came rushing back. The room was quiet except for our breathing. Sun streamed through the window, creating a warm pool of light on the bed. I blinked to allow my eyes to adjust, and as I did every nerve in my body zeroed in on my hand. My hand was still clasped with Holden’s. His thumb rubbed circles on the back of it. His grip was warm and firm and for a moment — for the first time in a long time — every ounce of fear vanished from me.

“I’m sorry. I —”

“Shh,” Holden hushed me. “Take a minute. There’s no rush.”

I allowed myself to linger with him, hand in hand, telling myself that I was just following his instructions. But the truth was much messier.

After a minute, I drew my hand away from his. Holden glanced down at his empty palm, a shadow flashing across his face, before he mustered a smirk.

“Want to tell me what that was, dirty girl?” He didn’t move from the bed.

“Panic attack,” I said in a clipped tone. “It happens sometimes.” The last thing I needed was Holden to have more dirt on me—or for him to care.

“Sometimes?” he stressed. “How often?”

“Just every once in a while. It’s no big deal,” I added. I started to push myself up on the bed. Somewhere, not so deep inside me, I knew that being alone with Holden, in a room, on a bed, was a wildly bad idea.

But Holden held out a hand to stop me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting up,” I snapped back.

“Is it that bad to be around me?” he asked, catching me off guard as the cockiness on his face softened.

“It’s just that I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” Least of all, me.

“Just give yourself a minute. If you want me to go, I will. I just want to know that you are okay.” Resignation slumped his shoulders, and he stood to leave.

I watched as he turned toward the door. There were one million reasons to let him walk away. Ten million, actually. But for some reason, I called, “Stop.”

Holden swiveled to face me, but he didn’t return to the bed. Instead, he prowled to the chaise lounge and sank down on its seat. “I’ll stay over here.”

“That’s a good idea,” I agreed.

“Why is that, dirty girl? Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?” He lounged back on the chaise, throwing an arm across its sloped back.

“That’s not it,” I said in a fluster. “If someone sees us in here, it would be best if we weren’t on the bed together.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He shot me a wolfish grin that made my stomach flip.

It was time to set some ground rules—for both our sakes. “You know, if you’re just going to shamelessly flirt with me, you can leave.”

“Me? Shameless?” He pretended to look hurt by clutching his chest.

“I suspect if I googled shameless, your face appears,” I said dryly.

“All right, dirty girl, we’ll do things your way. No flirting—shameless or otherwise.”

“That’s a start.” I nodded, relieved that he wasn’t going to fight me on it. “But how do I know I can trust you?”