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“Breaking and entering is an arrest able offense.” I laugh in disbelief but allow my sarcasm to become feral. “So is stalking a defenceless female.”
“Good thing the police chief and I are fond friends.” He returns the sarcasm but is yet to move. “And we both know you’re anything but a defenceless female.”
He comes into the light of the room, silver highlighting his handsome features, and I don’t even resist the way I react to the sight of him. My emotions and I are never going to be fond friends, and I’m a dirty little liar for saying otherwise.
“What are you doing here?”
He sniggers. “I don’t think that’s the question you should be asking, Natalia.”
“What are you doing here?” I push.
“What do you think I’m doing here?”
And my heart thuds with every want and desire possible.
“You were following me, weren’t you?” I ask.
He chuckles, rubbing his jaw as he smirks harshly. “And if I was?”
“Why?”
He presses forward, slightly. “Because you’re in my city, and that’s just not good enough anymore.”
“No more than ten days ago, it was my father’s city.”
“And if I remember right, he didn’t want you in it either.”
My eyes flicker on a semblance of grief, the blade so fine I barely feel it slice through me, but I feel myself bleed all the same.
“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Beckett says, coming closer until he’s almost at the foot of my bed. He starts to remove his jacket, tossing it down as if to tell me he’s not leaving any time soon. “He’s not your fiancé, is he?”
“He’s mad.”
It’s defensive at best, but also not a direct answer.
“You are quite maddening… but I never left our bed because of it.”
“No, you just forced me out of it,” I deadpan. Ire burns suddenly. “Was that easier?”
“Is that what you think?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “That I had a hand in everything you did?”
I remain silent. I promised myself I would never seek answers to questions that never needed them. I have spent seven years with every truth I could need so that I didn’t need to hear them from Beckett’s mouth. If anything, I want them as much as I want a bullet to the brain.
At least the latter would bring peace.
“What do you want, Beckett?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
As if to answer his own rhetorical question, he crawls onto the bed, knowing he’s got me in his sights, and soon, in his clutches. This could be a repeat of the car park, except we’re alone, and no one is coming to disturb us. I have no excuses and little escape, and I know I want neither.
My plan was always to come home and burn everything to the ground. If doing that meant I got an orgasm or two for the thrill of it, I’d walk out of London knowing the job was done right.
I just never planned this would be how I’d get either.
“We’re unfinished business. Always were, always going to be.”
I react instantly. My body submits, and my mind unravels as he pushes me back down against the bed, his body towering over mine.
