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“If you wanted that, you wouldn’t have accepted my lift. I’m here because you trust my opinion,” I enlighten her, and she leans a shoulder against the metal enclosure. “Although, I have to say, you have questionable taste when it comes to your friendships.”
She straightens so her back is flush to the wall, giving her a direct firing line to pin me with her big eyes. She rolls them, and I choke back a laugh. “I’m not stupid. I know he isn’t the most savoury of characters. I think he’s in a gang,” her voice quietens, “but he helped me move in, carried my stuff up three flights of stairs, and never once crossed my threshold.” Lifting to twiddle her ponytail through her fingers, she shrugs. “Something about that made me trust him. He has no need to watch out for me, yet he does.”
Probably because he is suffering the same fucking ailment Matteo and I suffer from. He wants her.
She’s mine. I’ve had her, owned her, branded her skin, and licked her tears away as she crumbled beneath me. She’ll always be mine. She’s in my employ, and I own her building. If she so much as catches a cold, I’ll know about it. I’ve always been a possessive man, namely towards the things that I know are my birthright, things that would have been handed down or worked on together with my father: his business empire, my inheritance.
I don’t like to share.
I would rather dismantle a company than allow it to be in the hands of a scumbag like Royce.
However, women have never captured my attention in a way that my revenge has. I did not wish to possess or lay claim to them. Until now.
Swallowing thickly, I observe Lauren from beneath my lashes as she watches the light on the elevator buttons ping-pong across the panel as we get higher. She’s naturally beautiful, delicate, and pure. There is something fiercely erotic about her—in the tilt of her chin, the innocently playful glint in her eyes, and the almost angelic way she moves.
I was loath to admit it when we first met, but she is the first woman to sucker-punch me on sight by just being unapologetically her.
I’ll let her go because I know if I take from her, she will never forgive me, and it would thrum between us like toxic waste. If I allow it to be her decision, she’ll come back. I respect her loyalty to the hotel and admire her work ethic, but she will soon realise those things mean little to her if she wants to keep me.
I endeavour to spend the rest of the weekend showing her, in every which way, why she should leave my employment.
I’m not a man that has thought of the future with anything but revenge in mind. I do not know what that future holds for Lauren and me, but for the first fucking time in my life, I want to find out. Once the threat of Royce is dealt with, I can finally give in to my other passion.
Her.
“He causes you any trouble, and I want to know.” He won’t because Deeks and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart. If I have to ram his casserole dish down his throat to make my point, then I will gladly cook a fresh meal to do so.
“Okay,” she whispers, but her eyes pull together. She doesn’t understand why I would care or ask. In twenty-four hours, I will be her boss again, nothing more, nothing less, just a memory she will touch herself to. It has to be this way. She can’t think I can offer more, because she is a weakness my step-father will use against me without hesitation.
“You’ll call me,” I reiterate as the elevator jolts to a stop and the doors creak open. The hallway opens up, dark and smelling of damp. It’s like something out of a bad horror movie. “This looks inviting,” I drawl, and she snorts dryly.
Stepping out, the lights flicker on and Lauren stalls, looking down the entire length. “Are you sure this is the right floor? I don’t think anyone lives up here?”
“You do.” I shrug. But the answer to her question steps out a door farther down the hall, where an older lady shuffles towards us.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for 43B?” Lauren smiles. The lady ignores us and grumbles as she scuttles past. I drop an amused glance down at Lauren, who is biting her lip.
“She seems nice.” I laugh, hooking my hand with hers and gripping it when she tries to pull away.
“Cain.”
“No one is here. No one cares.” I nod towards a door a few feet away. “Odd numbers are this way.” I already know where the flat is. I’ve even been inside. I keep her hand in mine and take us down the hall and to the door at the far end. Lauren presses the key in the lock, and something close to elation warms my chest as she pushes her way in and makes a little sound of glee. “Still want to keep your little place?” I muse.
Her head shakes, her ponytail swinging happily. I reach out and grip it, pulling her back. She hits my chest with a muted grunt and blinks back at me over her shoulder.
“This has been driving me insane.” I twine the silky locks around my arm and dip to press a kiss on her mouth. She opens up, letting me dip my tongue in. Her hair in one grasp, throat in another, I devour her until she is glassy-eyed and panting for more. “Do you like your new place?”
She frowns, and I berate myself for sounding too prideful.
“You’re right. It’s much bigger,” I add, covering my tracks, pushing us inside and letting the door swing shut. Her head is swaying around to take it all in. Although the place is not fully furnished, I did have some pieces delivered and installed when the contract was completed. It’s open-plan like her last place, but a dining table separates a large L-shaped sofa from the kitchen, and new appliances gleam under the modern light fittings. There is a narrow hall heading away from the main living room, and Lauren wanders down, peering into a newly tiled wet room and, farther on, a large double bedroom with a fucking proper bed in it.
“Did the paperwork say when this was being removed? God, my little sofa bed is going to look so silly in here,” she laughs, walking to the window and peering out. My throat closes up when I realise she thinks all this stuff belongs to the original tenant. I had no qualms about removing him. The man was incapable of paying rent and was using his status as the owner’s nephew to exploit other residents. “It’s definitely a better view. No more staring at a grey stone wall.” Her soft voice pulls my eyes back into focus, and twisting to face me, she leans her hands on the windowsill and smiles at me. “So, what’s your verdict?” She beams.
“The apartment comes partially furnished, it said in the paperwork.” I take great pleasure in enlightening her.
She pulls back, her brows furrowed. “It does?” Her lip disappears behind her teeth, where she holds it fast, her eyes dazzling with excitement.
“So, your sofa bed can stay downstairs.” I’m going to burn the damn thing.
