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Nicholas throws money on the table. “Lunch is on me.”
“Seriously!” I snap, looking him straight in the eye, letting him know I get what he is doing. He doesn’t want Evan to have the joy of claiming he paid for me.
“Yes,” he snarls at me.
Before I can step away from the table, Evan stands and pulls my arm toward him. He whispers into my ear, “You do know who he is, don’t you?” I’m guessing he is a little starstruck by the rich guy and the awful way he is speaking.
“Yes, unfortunately,” I say, looking back at Nicholas who is about to explode at Evan being so close to me.
“Haven’t you seen the news today? He just got taken in for drug distribution in Italy.” He tries to whisper it, but at the same time, the room goes quiet, and it was loud enough that I know Nicholas heard him too.
Spinning straight around, I find myself standing toe to toe with Nicholas, which we seem to make a habit of doing.
“What the actual fuck!” I yelp, never one to keep my voice at an appropriate volume. “Is this true?” I ask, watching him flinch and dip his head a little.
“No,” he says forcefully but not as strong as when he arrived here. “We are leaving now!” That was definitely an order, and there is no question as to whether I am choosing to accompany him or not.
I’m so confused and trying to process what Evan just said, but when Nicholas speaks like that, I know he needs me to do as he asks, and the explanation will come later. Just like when we arrived in Rome. What fucking alternate universe did I fall into that first morning on the train?
Is he telling the truth or am I just some pawn in this whole game?
After reassuring Evan I am fine, we start walking out of the café, with Nicholas holding my hand in that same death grip like when we walked away from the hotel. If I don’t end up with broken fingers from being around him, it will be a miracle.
The faster he walks, I notice he is looking around him constantly. Like he is watching out for someone. I never manage to have the right shoes on when he insists on dragging me along footpaths at such a rapid pace. When I dressed this morning, I had him in mind, but not like this. I put on my most flattering suit, with a straight black skirt that is a little shorter than work appropriate, paired with a blouse that is a bit lower cut than I would normally wear to work, but I wanted to remind him of what he threw away. Nice high shoes show off my legs and give me more height next to this giant. When you are vertically challenged like I am, you need every advantage you can get.
As I see the Darby offices come into view, my head is like a hamster wheel going flat out. What the hell is going on? The Nicholas I spent the day and night in Rome with is not someone I would ever suspect of being into drugs, but how am I to know? Do I really know him, or just who he wanted me to believe is the real Nicholas Darby?
Marching me across the reception area and straight to the elevator, still holding my hand, he uses his other hand to push the button several times, clearly frustrated it is taking so long. He still hasn’t said a word to me, but I’m used to that. The doors finally open, and as we step into the elevator and turn to face the front, a man is about to enter as well, but the look Nicholas gives him has him backing away and offering to take the next car.Good choice, I think to myself. I wouldn’t want to be in here either if I had the option; the air is so thick with tension it’s hard to breathe.
I have so many questions I want to ask, and he has a lot of explaining to do. Firstly, what the hell was that caveman spectacle in the café? And secondly, what the fuck was Evan talking about?
The look on Lucy’s face as we approach says it all. She is worried, and seeing Nicholas storming toward her just makes her stress more.
“No interruptions!” he barks at her as we pass, and she and I share a look of holy shit. We both know he is close to bursting.
The door slams behind us as we enter his office, and in a flash, he has me pushed up against it and is kissing me. It’s not a happy-to-see-you kiss, or an I-want-you-naked-now one. This is pure claiming. He is making sure I understand what he wants.
Pulling back, he looks at me like he wants to eat me.
“You’re mine, understand?” His lips are on me again, and I can’t resist him. His body is pressing into mine with such force that I can feel every muscle of his, including his cock, that just reaffirms his words and actions. My Nicholas has a jealous streak that is strong enough it drives him crazy—or crazier than normal.
Wait, stop! I’m not his, and he isn’t mine. That was made very clear the moment I woke up in his bed, alone and being ordered back to London.
No matter how much I wish it was true, there is so much shit that needs to be sorted out first. Like drug charges!
I shove him off me with every bit of strength I can muster, which is more than I knew I had. His raging body stumbles backwards, and the shock on his face tells me he wasn’t expecting that from me.
Gasping for oxygen to help me think clearly, I say, “Your lips might be mesmerizing, but they don’t make me forget everything that has happened. Get over there, far away from me, don’t touch me, and start talking. Otherwise, the only action that dick you were so happily grinding on me will get will be my knee far into it, and your balls too.”
Catching my breath, I walk toward the window to distance myself from him as he goes to his desk, throwing his phone down on it and taking a drink of water. Bending down, he opens a cabinet and stands with another bottle of water, throwing it at me. I desperately need it, too. I know if he touches me, I will melt into the sensation, so the only way I’ll get some answers is with distance.
“Such a gentleman.” I crack the top of the bottle off and take a long mouthful of cold water.
“I’m not allowed near you, remember?” He walks around to the front of his desk and tries to stand still, but I can see that the electricity buzzing through him is making that impossible.
“I’m waiting,” I snap, glaring at him to start talking. I have a feeling it’s rare anyone ever orders Nicholas around, and he isn’t quite sure how to handle it from me.
“None of it is true, I promise you on my mother’s life,” he says, pulling his jacket off and rolling up his shirt sleeves. He runs his hands through his hair and holds onto the back of his head. I can finally see the vulnerability in him. I know how much his mother means to him, and he would never throw her name into this unless he truly means it.
