The Brit

“I hope your meal was satisfactory,” Black says, and I hear a few low mumbles from Perry’s dinner companions. But not from Perry. He cannot react in front of these men, especially not in public. He can’t risk the backlash of social media and its daily scrutiny of whether or not he’s the best candidate as mayor. But is his silence terror or false bravado?

“I’m taking dessert in our room.” Black drops a kiss on my cheek before I’m led away.

“Madam!” someone calls, and Danny stops us, his men quickly moving in to surround us.

I turn and find the waiter who served us throughout dinner holding out my purse, looking a little alarmed by the wall of men blocking his way to me. “Your purse,” he murmurs.

Brad claims it and silently passes it to me. “Thank you,” I say quietly as Black escorts me away.

“Have you had a nice evening, Rose?” he asks, stroking the base of my spine.

I nod in reply. It’s all I’m capable of with the heat of him touching me burning away my power of speech, and the fear of Nox’s presence knocking my confidence.

When we reach the elevator, we’re approached by the casino manager again, his distance being kept safe by Black’s men. “Will sir be requiring the helicopter?”

“Keep it on standby until the morning,” Danny says, nodding to Brad who hands over more notes.

We enter the elevator and the doors slide close. The small space is suffocating, and not because of the four big men surrounding us. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I’m in up to my neck.

“Rose?”

I look up through my lashes, the backs of my eyes stinging. The concern on his face only makes it worse. He frowns, and I quickly look away, feeling a bead of sweat tricking down between the center of my breasts. I need to hold it together. Just hold it together. “Too much seafood,” I murmur, exhaling when the doors slide open, blessing me with air and space.

When we make it into the suite, I hurry away, taking myself to the bathroom. I hear one of his men say something as I go, though I don’t catch what, and I hear Black mumbling something in return. I feel sick. Terribly sick. I practically throw myself over the sink, running the tap and dousing my face with cold water. The relief is instant, but it has nothing to do with the cool water on my skin and everything to do with the distance I’ve gained from Black. He can’t see me like this.

But that distance doesn’t last long, yet I’ve stolen enough time to gather my nerves. He enters the bathroom, pulling at his tie before unbuttoning his suit jacket. “So, dessert?”

I slowly turn, ready for more of his games. The reset button has been pressed. I should’ve known Nox would find me. Would know my every move, whether I chose to make it or was forced to. “I’m full.”

His eyes drop to between my thighs. “You sure?”

“Very.” I walk past him, brushing his arm as I go. I expect to be grabbed, manhandled to a wall, and tortured some more. But much to my shock, he lets me leave. I reach to the back of my dress and feel for the zipper. I pull it down, letting my dress drop and pool at my feet, and I step out of it, leaving my heels buried in the mass of material, unpinning my hair as I walk to the bed.

Then I crawl in and turn onto my side, closing my eyes and wishing for a clean outcome to this horror movie. But Nox knows. Fuck, what will he do? I know what. I can kiss goodbye to my updates.

When the bed dips beside me, I open my eyes and find him sitting on the edge in front of me, his torso bare. His beautiful, hard chest. The shadows between each raised muscle hold my attention. “I’ll take that as a no.” He rests his finger under my chin and lifts my face to meet his eyes. Then he places a soft kiss on my forehead. “Sleep well, Rose.” He leaves.

And my meltdown begins.

Chapter 9

DANNY

* * *

I take myself to the office, pour myself a hard drink, and slump in the chair, opening the drawer and taking out her mobile phone. I check the screen. Nothing.

My head pounds as I spin it in my grasp, my head falling to the back of the chair. She is fascinating me more by the minute, no matter how hard I’m trying to force my mind into line. I want to know her history. I want to know every fucking thing there is to know.

I also don’t want to know.

Knocking back my drink, I savor the burn as it works its way down to my stomach. Brad walks in, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the chair, joining me for a drink. “Quite a show you put on tonight.” He rotates his wrist, swirling the Scotch so it coats every bit of the glass. Then he raises it. “Assuming it was a show.”