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“William Crawford doesn’t open up. Whatever you think you saw was only his attempt at manipulating you.”
I frown and look down at the floor. Could that be true? William’s charming, but he was never much of an actor. Even when he tried to lie directly to my face, he wasn’t very good at it, and a lot of what he said last night made sense, at least before he started acting like a bastard. I can only guess at how much shit he’s getting from his family on top of the embarrassment of being publicly canceled by a gossip blogger for cheating.
Am I stupid and crazy to have empathy for that asshole? I’m not sure he deserves it but I can’t help myself.
“No, I saw something,” I say and look up, clenching my hands into fists. “I’m sure I saw something. He looked uncertain, like he was afraid.”
“He might be afraid, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt you the first chance he gets.”
“You’re right, but—”
“Pearce, enough. From now on, you will never go talk to the Crawfords without speaking to me first. Do you understand?”
I look up sharply. He’s staring at me with those cold, dead eyes, and a shiver runs down my spine. Ansell expects obedience in all things, and it’s stupid to fight him, but I haven’t gotten this far just to roll over and do whatever he says. “You don’t get to order me around.”
A strange growl rolls from the back of his throat as he stands. “Are you sure about that?”
“Ansell—”
“There are a lot of moving pieces to this game. Magnus Crawford. Your father. William. Pride. You and me and Bella Baby and Baptist and a thousand other poor bastards that got sucked into this conflict purely because the Crawfords are like black holes. They drag down everyone around them.” He comes toward me, stalking slow. “You don’t seem to understand that your actions affect a lot of people. They have far-ranging consequences much beyond your own immediate concerns.”
“I know that.” I back away from him as he approaches. “I still get to make my own decisions. I’m my own person.”
“Not anymore.”
“Ansell.”
“Pearce.”
I bump into the wall. He stops two inches in front of me and reaches up a hand like he’s going to pull my hair, but instead he sharply yanks the cord on the blinds, blocking the window to his office overlooking the executive floor. He reaches to my other side and turns the lock on his door handle, shutting it with a loud click.
I’m trapped. My heart’s racing. Ansell slowly runs a thumb down my cheek and tilts his head as if studying the pulse rocketing on my throat. His lips lean forward to kiss my jawline, slowly moving back to whisper in my ear.
“I won’t have you endanger yourself again. Do I have to assign you guards?”
“Can you even do that?”
“I’m rich, Pearce. I can hire a dozen men to shadow your every move if I wanted.”
“Please don’t.”
“I’m very tempted. I’ve come to value you very much and I don’t want to see you act reckless. There are ways we can solve our problem but only if you’re willing to be smart.”
“I am being smart.” I glare at him and try to shove him back, but he doesn’t budge. “Heiko was coming for me. I had to think on my feet, and I figured if William showed up, that meant he was willing to talk. I thought maybe we could reach some compromise that benefited us both, but I was wrong.”
Ansell’s hand snakes up into my hair and grips. I gasp in pain and release a soft whimper, and a voice in the back of my head moans finally. This is why I push him. This is why I tease. I want this reaction, when the smoldering, powerful passion hiding down below his surface takes over his perfect body. It’s like he becomes someone else when I’m hurting, or when I’m feeling good, and I’m not sure there’s a distinction between pleasure and pain with him. All extremes are equally good in his eyes.
I want more. He bites my lower lip, giving me what I need. A shiver runs down my spine in anticipation of his hands on my skin.
“You want to make me angry, don’t you?”
“I didn’t think you were capable of anger.”
“Oh, I’m capable. It comes on slow and it burns extra hot. Worlds shatter when I get angry.”
“Then go ahead and break me.”
He slams his mouth into mine, kissing me deep and hard, and I moan into that kiss. His tongue is like heaven and the hand in my hair is like hell, and I know what he’s going to do to me. It’ll hurt, and it’ll feel good, and at the end I’ll be left a quivering bruised mass begging for him to keep going if only to squeeze one more ounce of feeling from his seemingly endless reservoir of hidden strength.
