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“Don’t.” I squirmed beneath him, and I heard him suck in a breath as I accidentally brushed his thigh. “Just get off me.”
He actually had the nerve to smirk at me. “You know, it wasn’t but a few days ago that you were leaving scratches down my back. What happened, Cass? Did things get a little too real for you? Afraid you’d let someone in for once?”
“Yeah, I did,” I hissed. “But the next morning was more than enough to remind me what sort of snake I had let crawl in my bed.”
His hands closed around my wrists, color rising to his cheekbones. “I don’t care if I ever bed you again, but if I do, it’ll be you who does the crawling, love.”
“Don’t care, huh?” I pressed my hips against his obvious arousal and grinned up at him wickedly. “That’s not what this little guy’s saying.”
Connor muttered something in Gaelic and the hands around my wrists tightened. His lips parted, and his breath grazed my face as he stared at me, incinerating me beneath him with the intensity behind those sea glass eyes. His heart beat a rapid tempo against mine. He looked so beautiful I could barely breathe, so sinfully dangerous in that moment, I nearly closed the distance between us and perished in the flame. I would have, if Connor’s eyes hadn’t drifted up to the bullet hole in the window behind me.
"We need to go," he said, his expression darkening. "Now."
I nodded, struggling to find my voice. "Okay."
He helped me to my feet, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. And in that moment, as our eyes locked and the tension in the air crackled, I realized that despite our mutual animosity, despite all the secrets, there was something undeniably powerful between us.
Without another word, we made our way to the waiting town car, leaving behind the shattered remnants of glass and the bullet that had narrowly missed its mark. As the car pulled away, the weight of the situation settled in – the danger that lurked around us, the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
"You need to stay at the penthouse," Connor finally said, his voice softer now, filled with an emotion I couldn't quite name. "That was too close.”
I frowned at him. “But I go back to work tomorrow.”
“Not anymore.”
Anger flared, and I pulled away from him. “What do you mean, not anymore? I have to go back to work, or I’ll lose my residency. Do you have any idea of how hard I’ve worked—”
“Do you have any idea what almost just happened?” Connor pointed a finger at my retreating apartment. “They were aiming for you, Cass. You could’ve been killed.”
It would’ve been better if he were angry. Or irritated. Or disgusted. Hell, even gleeful would’ve worked for me right then, because I could not handle the blank, emotionless stare Connor was aiming at me. Simply stating the facts, and nothing more, as if they held no meaning to him.
Instead, I was the one trying to fight back a whirlwind of emotions. The shock had subsided, and even the frustration I was feeling towards Connor couldn’t shake the sickening vulnerability I felt. Someone had tried to kill me. Again.
But I wasn’t about to be a slave to it. “Well, they missed. I’m still going back to work.”
“Good luck getting past the bodyguards.” Connor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re on lockdown until further notice.”
My mouth dropped. “You can’t keep me locked away forever. I’m not your prisoner.”
Connor glanced at me, and I wanted to slap that little smirk of his right off his face. “Watch me.”
It had only been three days, and I was already plotting my escape.
When Tommy had said lockdown, he wasn’t kidding. I wasn't allowed to leave the apartment. Everything delivered to the apartment was carefully inspected by the bodyguards before I was even allowed to touch it.
I felt like I was in prison.
The first week, I mostly slept and read. The rest of my meager possessions had been delivered the previous week, and I set them up in the spare bedroom. I didn’t want them in the master suite where Connor was. There was only so much reading and sleeping I could do, though, watched over carefully by a never-ending parade of bodyguards. Today, it was Grady. I drifted, feeling like my life was a melancholy grey haze of skyscrapers and expensive furnishings.
I had to do something, or else I'd lose my mind.
The other problem on my mind was work. Being a workaholic had its perks, so I had quite a bit of leave built up. Some smooth talking on Jerome's part got Winters to allow me to tack on my leave to the tail end of my suspension. I'm sure it was one of the stranger requests they've had, but honestly, I was just glad I could get it to work out. But my leave was almost used up, now, and if I didn't go back to work, I would be out of a job.
I hated Connor for putting me in this position. I hated him for using my own rules against me.
As for Connor, I barely saw him. He was always up early, and he never arrived home before ten—that is, if he even came home at all. If I was a jealous woman, I might think he had someone on the side, but I knew that wasn’t the case. It was work. It was always work.
I saw the bruised knuckles. I saw the bulletproof vests stowed in the closet, the guns in the safe near the entryway. He never carried them around me, but I saw them. Once, I'd even found blood on his collar when I was doing the laundry. He tried to hide it, but I noticed.
