Theo shifts a little, too, bringing his index finger to his lips and thoughtfully brushing the length of it across his cupid’s bow. ‘And what is your instinct telling you, Izzy?’
‘That hurting women isn’t your style.’ I leave out everything that I think could be his style. It might take me a while, and I don’t think insulting this man would be a wise move.
‘Your instinct is right. I won’t tolerate violence when it comes to women.’
My shoulders must visibly drop in relief, because his head cocks, and I’m suddenly aware that I’ve unwittingly given him a little piece of who I am. ‘That’s good,’ I say quietly.
‘And where does this instinct in you come from?’
I tense in my seat, looking away from him to gather myself. And when I return my attention to him, he’s smiling a little. This smile is a sympathetic one, and it carves away a fraction of the hardness that cuts his handsome face, making him even more handsome. He’s so damn handsome.
Theo must sense there will be no answer from me, so he looks over to Penny, his soft smile falling. The hardness of his features returns. ‘She’s the daughter of an old friend,’ he says quietly, and I follow his gaze to the unconscious woman beside me. Her blonde hair is matted with blood around her ear, her face washed out and pale. ‘She went off the rails when her dad died. Disappeared. I’ve been trying to find her.’ His chest puffs out a little on a cold laugh. ‘Twenty-one years old and selling her body.’ He hums, sounding thoughtful, and maybe a little sad. It brings my attention back to him, just as he brings his back to me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I offer, seeing genuine sorrow past the steel exterior of the muscle-ridden man. ‘Were you close to her father?’
‘You could say that.’ He clears his throat and looks out the window, a sign that the conversation ends there. ‘Home.’
I have to force the gasp of surprise back down my throat. Huge iron gates are creaking open, slowly revealing a mansion of epic proportions. The structure is glowing subtly in the distance, lit up by floodlights dotted around the grounds. ‘Holy shit,’ I breathe, losing the battle to hold back my astonishment. ‘You live here?’ I could probably fit our whole apartment under the canopied driveway on the front of the house.
‘I live here, I work here . . .’ The door opens, courtesy of an old man with silver hair and round metal-rimmed spectacles, who is clearly waiting for our arrival. ‘. . . play here.’
I dart a wide-eyed look to Theo, finding him studying me again. This time, I have to look away. Play? The door on the other side of the car opens, and another man leans in and takes Penny in his arms carefully – the other huge unit of a man from the alley. His blonde hair falls over his eyes as he reaches for her, his smooth jaw tight, the nostrils of his straight nose flaring. He’s not quite as big as Theo, but he still looks like a force to be reckoned with, if a little prettier.
‘After you.’ Theo gestures for me to get out, and I do, my neck craning as I unbend my body, looking around. The huge double doors before me are wide open and the concrete pillars on either side, flanking the grand entrance, are guarded by another two big men. Suited men, both mean-looking, who nod as we pass. I try not to look too awed when we enter, as I take in the grandeur of Theo’s home. A double staircase curves up both sides of the extensive entrance hall, stretching to a galleried landing that circles the space, a massive chandelier suspended from the high ceiling, the crystals dripping down nearly meeting the floor where I’m standing.
The man holding Penny starts taking the stairs up the left side, and I swing around when I hear the doors behind me close, finding the two big men who were guarding them now on the inside with us. Then a lady appears holding a tray that has a tumbler of dark liquid positioned dead centre. She comes to a stop a good six feet away from Theo, the tray held out, presented to him, forcing Theo to approach in order to reach his drink.
‘Do you always get such an elaborate welcome home?’ I ask with a nervous laugh.
He smiles, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to the lady before taking the glass and raising it to his lips. The loss of his jacket makes my breath catch in my throat, the white material of his shirt licking every inch of his huge torso – a torso that I can see is sharp, hard, and defined. I look up, my eyes following the path of his glass to his lips. I step back and reach in my bag, needing to escape the hold of those eyes before they render me incapable of anything except trying to comprehend his sheer presence. ‘I have very attentive staff,’ he says, placing his empty on the tray. ‘Would you like a drink?’