Chased (Savage Men 3)

“No, no, it’s fine.” He chuckles, placing down the menus. “A mac and cheese it is then.”

The waiter comes to take our orders and to bring the wine, which Chase pours into a glass for me. I take a sip and let it sit in my mouth for a while, enjoying the taste before I swallow.

It tastes expensive. Very expensive. And it makes me wonder what kind of job he has that makes it possible to afford it all.

“So … um … what do you do? As a job, I mean,” I ask, casually taking a sip.

“My job?” he repeats. “I own a company. Chase Enterprises.”

Interesting. “And what’s that?”

“We sell luxury cars and other brands that are of interest to our clients.”

“So you sell to other rich people, and it made you rich,” I say.

He snorts. “If you want to put it that way, then yes.”

“Hmm.”

“What does hmm mean?” he asks.

“Just that I find it interesting.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because I still can’t figure out why that would require you to be there 24/7, even in the middle of the night.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. I know I’ve put him on the spot. It wasn’t by accident.

“Certain aspects of my job require me to be … available at all times.”

“Ah-ha,” I mumble, averting my eyes. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, I do,” he says sternly.

But I can’t help but think about that one time when he came home in the middle of the night and I found him washing something in the bathroom. It wasn’t a dream. He was doing something he didn’t want me to find out about, and he still doesn’t want me to know the truth.

What if his “business” isn’t just selling “luxury goods” but also doing something illegal? Something dangerous?

Because it’d definitely make sense, considering how we met.

The food arrives to break the tension, which is unfortunate.

“Thank you,” Chase tells the waiter, and then he directs his attention back to me. “Bon appétit.”

“Yeah,” I reply, picking up my fork so I can have a taste.

The smell enters my nostrils and piques my hunger to the point of making my mouth water.

“Not good?” Chase asks, cutting into his steak. “I thought you wanted mac and cheese.”

“That wasn’t it,” I say, but I shrug it off and put a bit of the mac and cheese on my fork, pushing it into my mouth. I’m not prepared for the explosion on my taste buds. God, it tastes so divine, it actually makes me want to cry.

“Holy shit,” I murmur.

Chase chuckles. “That good?”

I nod quickly and take another bite. “It’s amazing!”

“I’ll tell the waiter to give your compliments to the chef.”

“I wish I could eat this every day,” I mumble between bites.

“If you want to, I can make it happen,” he says.

I stop eating for a second. Is he for real? “You’re joking, right?”

“No. Why would I joke about your happiness?”

I can feel my skin turning red from just the heat alone. Dammit.

I should not be feeling this. Not at all. Not when he’s constantly doing dubious shit, leaving the house in the middle of the night to go off somewhere without telling me anything. Plus, he keeps diverting every question I have.

But when I eat this comfort food and listen to his luscious voice, all I can think about is how sweet he is to me now … and how dirty he can get when he touches me. It’s like I’m falling for him and hating him at the same time, and I still can’t choose a side.

Or maybe I don’t want to because it makes me feel guilty. Especially if I picked the side where I think he’s nice for doing this.

Fuck.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask after swallowing down the food.

“Because I wanted to see you smile.”

God, there he goes again. And fuck me, it actually makes me smile.

“And because I felt like I had something to make up for,” he adds.

I frown and lower my fork. Is this what I think it means?

“Because I left you so abruptly,” he explains.

“Right …” I take another bite, trying not to sound salty, even though I am. “Why do you feel guilty?”

It takes him a while to answer. “You know I can’t tell you that. Please, just accept it.”

I sigh and stir around my dinner a little bit.

“I just want you to feel nice,” he says. “I don’t want to take your freedom away. I want things to be normal.”

I rub my lips together after swallowing down some more mac and cheese.

“And to be fair, it is going better than I expected.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He clears his throat. “Well, you haven’t tried to run away yet.”

I chuckle. “That’s because I keep my promises.”

He blows out an audible breath. “And I will too. You just have to wait.”