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The press of his body against hers was sickening. ‘Let go of me.’
‘Don’t go all coy and girlish on me now,’ he whispered, and she felt the wet brush of his mouth on her cheek. His body ground against hers again. ‘Why don’t you meet me at my hotel tomorrow, hmm? I’ll send the wife out shopping for a couple of hours. I’ll…’ His voice rose in alarm. ‘Hey! What’s going on?’
Paige’s eyes widened as Jack Ward fell away from her. Quinn had appeared from out of nowhere, and he stood between them, unmoving, unsmiling, as if he’d been carved of stone.
‘We’re leaving,’ he said to Paige. His voice was quiet, his eyes on her steady and dark. ‘Get your things.’
‘What the hell is this, Fowler? Your wife…’
Ward’s face paled as Quinn’s hand tightened on his arm. ‘Exactly,’ he said in a malice-filled voice. ‘My wife, Ward. Not yours. Not anyone’s. She belongs to me.’
She belongs to me. A tremor raced along Paige’s skin. During the past couple of weeks, she’d forgotten that deadly possessiveness. It had frightened her that first day in London; now, it thrilled her. She did belong to him, and it was what she wanted. It was what she’d always wanted.
Quinn’s eyes slid to hers. ‘How long has he been pawing you?’
Paige swallowed. ‘Quinn, it’s all right. I…’
‘Did you hear what she said, Fowler? I…’
Quinn’s eyes flashed. ‘I asked my wife the question, Ward. Not you.’ He looked at Paige. ‘Answer me,’ he said. ‘Has it been going on all night?’
‘Yes. But…’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
She looked at Ward’s pale face. ‘I thought about it. But he’s your client. He…’
‘Mr Ward,’ Quinn said with sarcastic deliberation, ‘is a son of a bitch, and he’s lucky I don’t slam his head through the wall. Now, get your things and meet me at the door.’
Paige nodded and moved quickly past Jack Ward. She could almost smell the man’s fear, and she couldn’t blame him for it. Quinn was a formidable enemy. To face his anger was terrifying. But he wasn’t angry at her; he’d only sounded that way. He had no reason to be angry at her, unless…
Has it been going on all night?
Why didn’t you tell me?
Mrs Ward looked up as Paige reached their table and took her things from the chair.
‘I’m sorry,’ Paige began, and the woman shook her head.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said with weary resignation. ‘Jack’s always been like that. He never thinks anybody knows what he’s up to.’ She looked across the dance floor to where Quinn and her husband still stood. ‘Your man’s going to cramp his style for a while, anyway. Jack looks as if he might die of fear.’
Paige nodded. There was nothing she could think of that seemed right to say, and by now she could see Quinn striding towards the door. She hurried towards him, watching as he stuffed a handful of banknotes into their waiter’s hand.
His arm slid around her when she reached him. He held her so tightly that she almost cried out. But being held against him was a comfort. She looked up at him as they stepped out into the dark night.
‘Poor Mrs Ward,’ she said. ‘I feel so sorry for her.’
There was no answer. Quinn opened the door of the Jaguar and she slipped into the seat, watching as he came around the car and got in beside her.
‘She said he’s done that sort of thing before. She said she hopes you cramped his style. She…’
Metal ground against metal as he jammed the car into gear and pulled away from the kerb.
‘I’m delighted that Mrs Ward approved of my behaviour.’
Paige looked at him. His voice was filled with cold anger. She reached across the console and put her hand on his as it lay on the steering wheel. It was the first time she’d ever touched him of her own volition.
‘Quinn,’ she said hesitantly, ‘are you—are you angry with me?’
