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“Easy, Pequeña,” he soothed. “I won’t leave until you’re settled.”
What if that didn’t happen? What if she couldn’t feel normal again? He started walking, entering a room with dark blue walls.
“Are you sure you don’t need me, sir?” Bernard asked from the doorway.
“I’m certain, Bernard. Gracias.”
She leaned back to look up at him. He raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“You just said thank you.”
“I know how to say thank you.”
She eyed him. “Really? You never said it to me when I brought you your drinks.”
“Ahh, but then we were surrounded by sharks and they can smell even a drop of blood.”
She shivered. They sure did.
“What do you need?” he asked as he sat on the side of the bed with her on his lap, straddling his legs. Her skirt rode up her thighs.
“Cat? What do you need?” he repeated.
What did she need?
That question made her feel light-headed. There was so much. She needed him to keep holding her. She needed to find her mama. She needed to be told that everything would be all right, that she wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again.
“I want him to suffer. To be scared and helpless like I was.”
That would make her feel better. Right?
Something had to. Because everything felt so wrong right now. Like she was a stranger in her own skin.
“Well, I was talking about whether you’d like a shower or to go to bed or needed something to eat . . .”
She stiffened. Shit.
He’d wanted to know if she was hungry, and she’d told him she needed that asshole to be slowly tortured.
Had she really expected that he’d do that for her?
“What is wrong with me?” She leaned her forehead against his chest.
“There is nothing wrong with you. You were just attacked. You are allowed to feel upset.”
“No. Not that. You ask if I want a shower and my brain immediately goes to the torture and dismemberment of my enemies.”
“Enemies? You have more than one enemy, Pequeña?”
She swallowed heavily. “Not really.”
“Not really? That sounds like a yes. Tell me.”
She shouldn’t. But there was something hypnotic in his gaze. Something she wanted to fall into. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything would be all right.
That nothing would harm her with him around.
God. It had been so stupid to come here.
“Just . . . you know . . . the guy who pushed me out of the way to get a taxi in the rain the other day. Oh, and the weatherman on TV who keeps getting the weather wrong, so I leave my umbrella and jacket at home and there’s a torrential downpour that has me scrambling for a taxi only to get pushed down in a puddle of water. They are my sworn enemies. May bad luck befall them.” She pressed her fist over her heart.
Were his lips twitching?
That surely couldn’t be possible, right?
“And are they your only enemies, Pequeña?” he asked in a shockingly tender voice.
“No, then there is the asshole in the restaurant who sent his steak back three times. The first time, it was too rare, which was what he asked for. The next time, it was too cooked. And the third time, it looked too fatty. And then, he never left a tip. Oh, and then there is the jerk on the bus who wouldn’t move so a pregnant lady could sit down, and when I told him to get up, he called me all sorts of names.”
“You were taking the bus?” There was thunder in his voice, and she looked at him in confusion. Shouldn’t he be angrier over the jerk who wouldn’t get off his seat?
“Yeah . . . because I had no luck with a taxi and I had to get across town. Plus, it was raining.”
“You shouldn’t be taking public transport,” he dictated.
“How else am I meant to get around? This is Manhattan. And most of us don’t have the money for a driver. Or even just a scooter and a good jacket.”
“A scooter? That’s not safe either.”
“What do you consider safe? A Hummer with bulletproof glass?”
“Yes. Do not take the bus again.”
“You really think you get to boss me around, don’t you?”
“Yes. And you’d do well to obey me.” He cupped the side of her face. “And be assured that Vince will suffer greatly for what he did to you.”
Shit.
Tears threatened again and she had to push them back. “No.”
“No?”
“You can’t.”
“I can. And it doesn’t matter if you agree to it or not.”
“What? Why?”
“Because his fate was determined the moment he touched what belongs to me.”
“I’m really worried about these delusions you’re having. Do you think we need to get them checked out?” Cat asked.
“Delusions? I do not have delusions, brat,” he muttered.
“I think you must. Because I’m not yours.”
“I’m not arguing with you.”
