Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The house is quiet. A dim light shines in the entrance. The temperature inside is comfortable. I shiver a little as my cold body adjusts to the warmth.
Gripping my shoulders, Alex turns me to face him and reaches for my jacket zipper. My eyes are drawn to his with the same pull I experienced the first time I felt his gaze on me. He’s staring at me like he may eat me alive, but there’s also something dark underneath the desire, something almost violent.
Mesmerized, I stand quietly as he pulls down the zipper and brushes the edges of my jacket open. Sliding his hands under the fabric over my shoulders, he frees my arms from the sleeves. Heat gathers in my core from the simple act. Even if I have unanswered questions, such as the real reason he didn’t call and who the woman at his side tonight truly was, I’m helpless against the reaction he elicits.
He watches me with that sharp blue gaze as he takes off his own jacket and hangs it with mine on the coat stand. I feel like the mouse who’s about to become the cat’s dinner as he advances on me until our bodies are flush together.
Gripping my chin between a forefinger and thumb, he says, “You’re never to wander the streets alone again.”
The unreasonable command reignites my anger. We’re nothing to each other. Since he made that clear by ignoring me, he has no right to make demands of me. “I’m not never going out again because of a mugging.”
He drags his gaze over me, pausing on my breasts before meeting my eyes again. “Why did you come to the restaurant tonight?”
“Don’t worry,” I say with a sardonic smile. “I wasn’t spying on you.”
Annoyance flashes across his face. “I apologized for that. I explained why the background check had to be done. Do you want to hear it again? I’m sorry I made you feel bad. It wasn’t my intention. In my world, security precautions mean the difference between life and death. I don’t know you well enough to exempt you from how I treat everyone who comes into my house for the first time, but I do intend to rectify that.”
If that speech is supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t work. Backing away, I escape his touch. “Do you say that to all the women you bring home?”
He advances a step, the set of his jaw hard. “Only to the ones I intend to sleep with more than once.”
I’m not sure I can do this. I thought I could handle a one-night stand with him and look where that has left me. In the span of a short week, I’ve turned into a mass of nerves just because he thinks little of me and hasn’t called. How will I react after a second no-strings night with him? I have to face the truth. I’m not the one-night stand type. Sex has never been meaningless for me the way it has been for him. That’s the problem. That’s why this can never work. The sooner I get out of here, the better. First, though, I have an urgent matter to attend to.
I take in a tremulous breath. “May I please use your phone? I need to cancel my bank cards.”
His voice is clipped. “It’s done.”
I gape at him. “The call you made in the car?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” I say slowly, not seeing at all. Does he have a private banker on standby that he can call in the middle of the night? Probably. And since he’s already accessed my bank account, what’s getting his unorthodox banker to cancel my cards? The thought is disconcerting, but I try to focus on what still has to be done. “In that case, may I please call a locksmith?”
“Yuri is taking care of it,” he says in the same matter-of-fact tone.
“Oh. Thank you.” I guess.
Instead of pleasing him, my expression of gratitude seems to upset him. He’s not breaking our eye contact, but a shutter drops in front of his eyes as he says, “There’s no need to thank me.”
Rubbing my arms, I say, “I’ll reimburse you.”
His voice turns hard. “I don’t need your money.”
“I don’t like to feel like I’m taking advantage.”
“Advantage?” He scoffs, lifting a strand of my hair between his fingers. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Why?” I sidestep the touch. “What happened isn’t your fault.”
For a moment, he only looks at me, seeming to wage an internal battle. Finally, he says, “Why did you come to the restaurant tonight? Tell me the truth.”
“I was out at a bar that isn’t far from the restaurant. I happened to walk past and just wanted to see what it looks like when a tycoon hasn’t booked out the whole place.”
He gives me a measuring look. “Out with who?”