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I put my hands in the air before turning on my heels. Kimble was six feet from me. He had been waiting. I didn’t know how long, but the fucker was ready for us as soon as I drove in. Had he watched us? Did the steam on the windows give us privacy?
Kennedy stepped out of the car slowly. “Put the gun down,” she hissed. Her skin was flushed with sweat. I had kissed half her makeup away.
Kimble held the gun steady. “Not until you leave with me.”
Her eyes darted to me. “I’m sorry. I have to go with him. I don’t want to, but you understand?”
I reached for her hand. I wanted to pull her back toward me. To wrap her in my arms and hurl her inside my apartment. I would barricade the door. Kimble couldn’t shoot his way through. No one could.
Our fingertips grazed quickly, but she was already at Kimble’s side.
“Put it down. Now. I’m going with you.” She stared up at her bodyguard. “You don’t need to threaten him with a gun.”
I saw the frustration welling her eyes. “You don’t need to say anything to Mr. Martin about this, Kimble.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “She’s safe. She was safe the entire night.”
He didn’t give any clues about whether he would take my suggestion.
“Get in the car,” he barked at Kennedy.
Her eyes weren’t the same. The openness was gone. The light extinguished. The wildfire we had lit had gone dark.
There wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it.
I watched as her bodyguard shuttled her into the Escalade and drove out of the alley. The tires screeched as he turned the corner.
Thunder clapped overhead, and lightning streaked across the sky. I didn’t want to think about what almost happened. About how close we had come to setting our bodies on fire. The sheets. My bed. Fuck.
I turned for the back door and walked past Wallace, my house manager.
“Do you need anything, sir?” he asked. He had likely witnessed the scene.
I shook my head.
“I’m in for the night,” was all I could manage to explain. I climbed the stairs for my suite and turned the handle. I glared at the empty bed.
* * *
The next morning,I beat my father to his office. He looked surprised to see me. I didn’t work Saturdays. I kept to myself on the weekends, staying as far from my family as I could.
“What’s this about?” He walked past me.
I sat on the arm of a leather chair.
“Do you have any idea how upset your mother is with you? You left before the photographer finished.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Are you?” His eyebrows arched.
“I was in plenty of photos. It wasn’t even the wedding for Christ’s sake.”
“Try telling that to your mother. It was just as important to her.”
I crossed my arms. “I’ll make sure to check with the photographer before I leave the next party. How does that sound?”
“Who was the girl? Your mother isn’t happy about that either.”
I huffed. “What is she happy about?”
