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Carter crosses over to me in two strides, and his features are harsh, the earlier emotion in his eyes stamped out. “Are you questioning my ability to protect you, dove?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not.”
But I do know that Carter can’t be everywhere at once. He can’t run a business and rub elbows with the new mayor, especially not one who is an ex-cop.
Carter is sinking himself further and further into quicksand, and with each passing day, the number of people willing to pull him out shrinks.
I can’t save Carter from himself, not on my own, at least.
The thought leaves a bad taste in the back of my mouth as Carter twists on the knob, the blinding white light of the hallway temporarily blinding me. When the door clicks shut behind him, I scramble out of bed and feel around in the dark. My fingers close around an unfamiliar fabric as I stagger into the bathroom. There, I pause to flick the lights on and wait for my vision to adjust. Then I glance down at the clothes and frown.
If I have Carter’s clothes, what did he wear downstairs?
With a slight shake of my head, I pad across the tile floors and switch on the water. I scrub every inch of my skin twice and try to escape the images lingering in the shadows. Every time I close my eyes, I see the mayor’s man, upright and resolute one second and the next, lying at my feet in a pool of his own blood. The sight stays with me as I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around my waist, and use my hand to clear away the fog.
I meet my own gaze in the mirror and try not to flinch.
My entire body feels like a battlefield, marred with scars of every kind. When I twist and turn to study myself in the mirror, I can’t help but compare my skin to Lilian’s.
The curvy brunette might not have Carter, but at least she’s in shape.
Frowning, I turn away from the mirror, let the towel flutter to the floor, and pull Carter’s clothes on. They smell like him, like leather and cigarettes, making butterflies form in the center of my stomach. Once I step out of the bathroom, I see a pair of socks and shoes laid out at the foot of the bed. I pull them on, tie a sweater around my waist, and make my way downstairs.
The first thing I see is Carter on the other side of the kitchen counter, with Tristan a few feet away, wearing an identical somber expression. Tristan’s gaze flicks over to me, and he gives a slight shake of his head. I look away and back toward Carter, who is gripping the counter like his life depends on it.
As if it’s the only thing keeping him from doing something stupid. Like launching himself across the room and tackling Rich Donahue to the ground.
I take the last few steps and ignore the warning look Carter gives me. With my heart hammering unsteadily against my chest, I come to a stop next to Carter and brush my hand against his. He laces his fingers through mine, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. Rich glances between us and says nothing. Without saying anything else, Carter pushes himself off the counter, dragging me behind him.
Before I can thank Rich for saving me, I am thrown into the back of Tristan’s car, and the door slams shut in my face. I twist to see Carter and Rich exchange a quick look before Rich retreats into his own car. Moments later, the passenger door is wrenched open, and Carter gets in, the door slamming shut behind him.
I fold my hands in my lap and clear my throat. “He did save my life, Carter.”
Carter’s jaw tightens. “I don’t need you reminding me why I couldn’t come after you, dove.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” I lean forward and place a hand on his shoulders. “You were being detained by the police. Hughes made sure of it.”
Carter shakes my hand off and says nothing.
In silence, Tristan drives back to the penthouse, where several of Carter’s men are already waiting for us outside, their guns barely concealed underneath their shirts and jackets. I lower my head, dig my nails into my palms, and hurry into the penthouse, which looks untouched and exactly the same way we left it. After changing into my own clothes, I crawl into the large king-sized bed and wait for Carter.
My eyelids grow heavy as I stare at the door and fight back my yawns.
When I drift off, there is a low murmur of voices outside the door and then silence. I struggle to make out Carter’s voice before I drift off. Sometime later, in the thick of sleep, I feel the bed dip and creak, and Carter’s body curls against mine. He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, mutters something into my skin, and exhales.
That night, I toss and turn, trying to figure out how to bridge the wide chasm between us.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Carter
“Taking your sweet ass time to get ready isn’t going to make the event go by any faster, dove.” I adjust my tie in the mirror and run a hand over my face. “I don’t want us to be late.”
The door to the bathroom clicks, and Bella steps out, dressed in a floor-length shimmering silver gown with a plunging neckline. Her hair is left in loose waves around her delicate face, and she has some color on her cheeks and eyelids, making her look more alluring than ever. I twist to face her, and a shiver races up my spine, my fingers itching at my sides.
I want to lay her out on the mattress, rip off the dress, and spend hours on end losing myself in her body.
When she bridges the distance between us and offers me a bright smile, I have to clench my hands into fists. Not only would ravaging her make us late for the gala, but I also know it’ll leave Tristan and the other men accompanying us tonight in a bad mood.
