AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At last the raging sea of shock and bitter memories calmed down.
But then his arms tightened around her, and the deep well of misguided emotion swelled into her throat.
What was she doing? Relying on his strength, even for a moment, would only make it harder for her to rely on her own. And that was one thing getting dumped by Patrick, losing her mother and then getting emotionally abandoned by her father had taught her, before she lost him too. Relying on anyone other than yourself would always lead to heartache.
So she shifted and tried to wiggle free of his arms. ‘It’s okay, Karim, really, I’m fine, you can put me down now.’
‘In a minute.’ Karim bit off the words, the rage still burning in his gut.
He walked down the steps of The Chesterton.
Patrick Quinn was going to regret touching her. Quinn and his whole damn family, when he buried their business.
His hands tightened reflexively, but he made himself place Orla on her feet. Even so he kept a firm grip on her arm as she steadied herself.
‘How’s the stomach?’ he asked.
‘Good,’ she said, tugging away from him.
He forced his hand into his pocket to resist the urge to touch her again. And tried to convince himself his fury would be just as strong if Quinn had treated any other woman there the same way.
‘It’s okay, Karim, he didn’t mean to hurt me, his hand slipped.’
A memory flickered at the edges of his consciousness, of his m
other, her face pale but for the livid bruise on her cheek.
He shut it out, as well as the brutal feeling of impotence and inadequacy that came with it.
Orla wasn’t his mother. She wasn’t even really his fiancée. She meant nothing to him. And the surge of fury that had assaulted him in the ballroom when he had spotted Quinn dragging her onto the dance floor and seen her stiffen and recoil had not been specific, but rather a natural reaction to the sight of any man treating a woman with such disrespect.
‘I’m sorry for the scene,’ she said as she looked down at her toes.
‘Don’t apologise,’ he said, more curtly than he had intended, the rage burning under his breastbone again. And feeling more specific by the minute. For a moment there she’d clung to him. And instead of being shocked or annoyed, all he’d wanted to do was hold her.
He signalled the parking attendant. He needed to calm the hell down.
This. Is. Not. Personal.
‘You’re not responsible for Patrick Quinn’s boorish behaviour,’ he added.
She met his gaze at last. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘What for?’ he asked, his pulse accelerating again, despite his best efforts. He hated to see the shadows in her eyes. Wanted nothing more than to take them away, even though it shouldn’t matter to him, this much.
What was going on here? Because he didn’t like it, but he didn’t seem able to stop it.
‘For coming to my rescue,’ she said, so simply and with so little expectation, his heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest. ‘And for not blaming me.’
‘Why would I blame you for his actions?’ he asked. Did she think he was some kind of monster? A monster like his…
He cut off the thought. He didn’t want to think about his father, especially not now—when the woman he had effectively hired to dupe the bastard had somehow duped him into feeling things he did not want to feel.
The car arrived before she replied, and he took a moment to tip the parking attendant and open the door for her. She climbed into the passenger seat, giving him another flash of her thigh. Her breasts rose and fell—making the glittery fabric of her gown shimmer erratically—and it occurred to him she wasn’t any calmer than he was.
The inevitable shot of heat hit as he skirted the car and got behind the wheel. Just as he was about to switch on the ignition though, she murmured, ‘I made such a mess of things tonight, I wouldn’t blame you a bit for wanting to sack me.’
He stared at her—the urge to defend her so swift and strong it was as confusing as everything else that had happened tonight.
