The Billionaire's Seduction (Billionaire Bodyguards Book 5)
Page 10
Unfamiliar surroundings compounded her anxiety.
She willed her heart rate to slow, told herself to calm down. Get her bearings.
Assess first, then react.
Soft yellow light filtered into the room beneath the door.
Not her room.
Her throat clenched. She gripped the cloth surrounding her, feeling the silken fabric bunched within her fists.
Not her covers.
Then she remembered.
Liam.
A relieved breath pressed from her chest. It’s okay. I’m okay. He’s got me.
She shivered under the air-conditioning pumped from vents overhead. She was in Denver, in Liam’s guest bedroom.
God, she’d had one hell of a day.
The weight of it threatened to crash in on her.
She shifted under the covers. Her legs were constricted by her skirt. Had she fallen asleep in her clothes?
Throwing off the duvet, she planted her feet on the floor to ground herself.
The last thing she remembered was Liam pointing out where he’d hang her prints, on the first landing of his staircase—if she agreed to let him have them. Her shoes draped against each other on the floor a few feet from the bed. She didn’t remember removing them.
Then again, she didn’t remember tucking herself into bed, either. Had he tucked her in?
In the darkness, she found the glass edge of a bedside table, feeling her way up the lamp until she found the knob. She switched it on and winced, the light inducing an immediate headache. She licked her parched lips, in desperate need of water.
Standing, she sank her toes into the luxurious carpet—soft like beach sand, where she might leave footprints.
Inundated by the aesthetic sensuality surrounding her, she walked toward the light under the door. Would there be bottled water in the fridge?
The reminder of his gorgeous kitchen induced a pang of envy. That was the least of her issues. She needed to quench her thirst like a desert needs a flood.
Reaching into her suit case, she rummaged for something to wear. Oh, crap. In her rush to pack, she’d forgotten to include sleepwear.
Seriously?
Events of that day had bulldozed her brain and demolished all common sense.
Something caught her attention. A large white t-shirt draped over the chair under the window. The moon shining through the slats almost made it glow. It had been purposefully placed, as if inviting her to feel its freeing comfort. So she stripped down and slid it on. Liam must’ve left it for her.
How could he have known she’d forget to pack something to sleep in? She shook her head. She began to suspect he was more than a mentalist. Maybe he really had innate, almost psychic abilities.
Thank you, Liam.
Driven to relieve her desperate thirst, she ventured out of her room wearing his t-shirt. The opposite end of the hall remained cloaked in shadow. Silence weighted the yawning chasm of the huge space.
The stairs were lit, thankfully. She descended into the dark downstairs, where a light left on above the stove helped guide her way.
In the kitchen, she faced a wall of cupboards, wondering which contained his glasses. She opened a few, careful to close them without making a sound, until she found the right one. She removed a glass and went to his refrigerator, where she could fill it with cold filtered water—that came from inside the doors.
The stream poured into her glass. She winced, wishing it could be quieter. She drained the first glass and went for a second.
While she drank, she wondered what had awoken her in such a panic. That rarely happened. Something in her subconscious had cried out for attention.
She recalled the uneasy sensation that had fallen over her, in her condo. Nothing to do with Liam’s suggestion some intruder had violated her space. Yet…things were off. She’d hurried through packing, eager to get to Denver to lift any lingering suspicion clouding her reputation.
No matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t shake the sense that things in her orderly word had been turned upside down. The sixth sense went beyond the situation with the casino.
Disturbing doubt lingered in her mind.
Something in the wall under the staircase popped. Drywall shifting? A pipe rattling? Logical explanations didn’t settle the jump in her pulse.
She spun around, backing away from the sound until her shoulder blades bumped the sleek refrigerator doors. Her hands tightened around the glass. Since getting carted off like a felon by Mr. Atlas’s guards, she felt like the odds were stacked against her, and worst case scenarios rushed through her brain.
Never until today had she worried about herself or her reputation. She was still a good girl, with a squeaky clean reputation.
Tomorrow would prove that.
She hoped.
Regardless, her nerves bunched and tangled inside her at every unfamiliar sound. As if danger lurked around every corner.
What she really wanted to get to the bottom of was how her laptop had been involved in the casino theft. She wished she knew more about computers. She assumed Liam planned to have it investigated, since he’d brought her laptop with them. She needed the truth to set her free.
“Sophia?” a sleep-roughened voice called out to her from above.
The air in her lungs thinned. Liam. He sounded way too sexy.
When he came into view, he looked way too sexy, too. He wore boxer shorts and a creased tank top he might’ve grabbed out of a laundry basket to throw on in the dark.
Earlier that day, she’d come away with the impression he was on the skinny side, because of his height and the cut of his suit. She’d totally underestimated what lay beneath. His shoulders were round and broad. Where the ends of his dark blond hair brushed thick deltoids, she noticed a glimmer that caught the light. A thin gold chain draped over his tan collar bones. At the bottom of the vee hung a small cross. Hard ridges of muscle stood out prominently because of his lean build. His arms, chest and abs were cut. Wow.
Suddenly parched, she gulped a mouthful of water and almost choked. Her eyes watered. She cleared her throat.
The muffled creak of the carpeted stairs followed his footsteps down. “Everything okay?”
Gaze fixed on the bluestone tile floor, she watched his feet pad into view. Long and lean like the rest of him. They contrasted with her smaller, pale feet, her toenails painted maroon.
She gestured behind her. “I just needed water.”
“Sorry.” He looked dismayed. “I should’ve thought of that.” He bent his elbow, his bicep bulging in her peripheral vision. He planted his forearm against the refrigerator door near her head. “Anything you need, it’s yours.”
Painfully aware she wore his oversized t-shirt, with nothing but lavender lace panties on underneath, she shifted her eyes away and slurped more water. Damn her long legs, since the bottom hem only covered her thighs partway.
“When I left your room, you looked like you might sleep for days. Did something awaken you?” He stood close, his warm breath wafting across her neck and down the rounded neckline to nestle between her braless cleavage. Her nipples tightened.
She crossed her arms over her chest.
The perspiration from the glass in her hand left wet marks on the t-shirt sleeve.
“I woke up fully dressed in a strange bed. I changed into your shirt because I forgot to pack something to sleep in. I feel dehydrated and tense. I’m still getting my bearings after a long, difficult day.”
Stifling a yawn, he nodded in sympathy. Then his gaze sharpened on her. “Sure that’s all?”
She shrugged, looking pale and withdrawn.
Too reserved.
He’d never seen her like this.
Concerned, he leaned closer.
“It’s nothing,” she said into her glass, before she took a nervous sip.
Reaching out, he guided her to sit on a counter-height stool. He lightly gripped her elbow with his palm. Apparently, his baser-self found an
y possible reason to come in contact with her. Even when there was no reason. He sat next to her, fighting to keep his focus her eyes, and not drool over her breasts perfectly outlined by white cotton. And now her nipples poked against the front of his t-shirt.
Jesus. He ran a hand through his hair. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
She set her glass down and wrapped her arms around herself. Her tense shoulders bowed. “Okay, it’s something.”
Softening his voice, he said, “What can we figure out?”
Because, by now, it was “we.” They were on the same team. Team Sophia.
“I don’t know what, but I felt things were off. Back in my condo.”
“The bolt wasn’t locked,” he recalled.
“I know.” She nodded absently. “More than that, though. Things just weren’t…right.”
“Want me to walk you through it?”
Brows drawing together over troubled eyes, she sighed. “I’ve gone over it in my mind a dozen times since I woke. I just can’t place it.”
“I meant,” he said, “I can literally walk you through it. Under hypnosis.”
She blinked at him, uncomprehending, as if he’d spoken a foreign language.
He smiled. “My magician mentor taught me how to put someone under hypnosis, guide them through, and bring them out. One of those ‘mentalist’ things.”
She wrinkled her nose and curled her lip with suspicion. “Does it hurt?”
He laughed. “Not at all. Haven’t you seen it done in movies or on TV shows?”
She eyed him warily. “I just thought it was, you know, fake. I don’t think I could ever let down my guard completely.”
“Guess we’ll find out.” With a private smile, he took her hand. “Come with me. You need to be in a more comfortable spot.”
He led her through the shadows to an overstuffed reclining chair in his family room.
“Why’s it so dark in here?”
“I can light some candles.” He found a lighter in one of his kitchen drawers and ignited the wicks of four candles Jules hadn’t bothered to take with her. He’d left them out, along with other things she’d left behind, in case she came back to retrieve a few items—and saw that he’d completely redone her godawful interior design attempts. Her castoffs came in handy now, he thought.
He returned to the chair and sat on the edge. “Close your eyes. Lie back. Relax every muscle in your body.” His voice took on a low, flowing tone. “Starting from the top of your head to the soles of your feet, feel a wave of release wash over you.”
In the candlelight, she cracked open one eye. “This isn’t some weird, occult prelude to seduction right?”
He chuckled. “No. That goes against the code.”
As she eased herself into the cushion at her back, her slim legs stretched out along the reclined portion of the chair.
There was no such code. Regardless, he’d never “trick” a woman into having sex with him. The thought wasn’t just morally repugnant. It went against the innate protectiveness he felt toward women, an instinct that had run deep in his veins since childhood.
“Do you feel relaxed?” he asked, with a voice that mimicked the meditation gurus he listened to on his iPod. He had his cousin Cade to thank for turning him on to alternative ways to reduce stress. He had Sophia to thank for turning him on in ways he shouldn’t think about right now.
“I…I think so.”
“Place your palms flat beside you.”
She uncurled her fists. The remaining tension in her body released.
He unclasped the cross around his neck. Fastening the closure, he dangling it from one finger which he held it twelve inches from her face.
“Slowly open your eyes,” he instructed. “Focus on the object in front of you.”
Her pupils dilated, her half-lidded eyes connecting with the cross. She looked momentarily mesmerized. Her lashes flickered. “Am I supposed to do something?”
“The opposite. Do nothing. Focus…and let go at the same time. Allow the object take you out of place, out of time. You’re hovering…between dream and reality.”
“Okay.” A trace of doubt lingered in her tone.
“Picture yourself at the top of a staircase. It’s dark all around you. Below is a closed door. You see white light glowing from the gap beneath.”
Her lids slid shut. Her eyebrows twitched. “Hmm.”
The tone of her hum held curiosity in place of doubt.
“One step at a time, you draw closer to the door. Your breathing is light, gentle. You feel weightless. You drift down the stairs.”
She sighed.
“You pause in front of the door. What lies behind it holds the secrets you want to know. What your mind won’t tell you when you’re awake.”
“Am I asleep?” she whispered.
“You’re in between. You’re safe. Follow the pull you feel.”
“Oh…”
Her eyelids fluttered. She’d entered into a state of hypnosis.
“You open the door.” His low, encouraging voice massaging her into the image only she could see. “You’re walking into your condo. You’re acutely aware of your surroundings. Your vision is heightened. You notice every detail around you. What do you see?”
“I see my home. But it’s the same. I mean, there are…remnants of someone else.”
“What remnants?”
“Oh.” Her shoulders jerked. “He’s been there.”
“Who’s been there?”
“Todd.” She said his name with substantial accusation.
Good, he thought. That’s how he’d viewed the guy from the start. “What else do you see?”
“He left…traces. Things he thought I wouldn’t notice. He took his clothes from the drawer.” Her fingers curved and tugged on the cushion, as though going through those drawers. “And the bathroom.” She shook her head in denial. “He took his toothbrush. The smell of bleach…” She began to choke. “It’s too strong.” She thrashed. “He scrubbed himself from my place. He did it…on purpose. Why…? Why? Why?”
From beneath her lashes, two tears trekked down her face.
As much as Liam wanted to comfort her, he believed she hadn’t found the whole truth yet. “What is bothering you?” he whispered. “What don’t you want to face?”
“Todd. He…he never planned to stay. I see it now, so clearly.”
Finally, a breakthrough.
Liam found no joy in her discovery. His chest squeezed in empathy at her discovery.
“What do you know about him?” Liam asked, as much for his assurance as for hers. “What did he say to make you believe he’d be the one who stayed?”
Her chin wobbled. “He said he’d never met a woman like me. We had a special connection. He understood my dreams. With him, I felt beautiful. Wanted. After dating online for years, I finally felt like the other half of something whole, with someone I thought adored me. I felt accepted. Happy. For the first time in so long…”
“Sure you did,” he soothed. “Now tell me why you’ve begun to doubt him?”
Her body stiffened. She said with spite, “He has no work ethic. He doesn’t understand what I’ve had to overcome, how hard I’ve worked. He’s spoiled. And selfish.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Abandoned. Again.” Her throat worked with a swallow. “He snuck into my house and took his things because he’s never coming back.” A heartbreaking whimper escaped her lips. “Did he ever care about me at all?”
While he wanted to go into that, Liam guided her back to viewing more in her apartment. “What do you see that proves your doubts?”
“Too much.” Her tone hardened. “I see he left nothing behind. I see how I became a shell, a vessel to pour admiration over him. Empty. I let him come first, always. He told me to put my paints away. He said his parents knew art, and I wasn’t good enough.” Hurt gathered into creases on her forehead. “I know he’s right. But why would he say that to me?”
Taking more license than he should, he suggested, “You’re very talented, Sophia. Why didn’t he think so?”
“If I did anything beyond the scope of expectation, he shut me down. Just like Mom.”
Before he punched a hole through the wall, Liam needed to lead her to more proof. “What else isn’t right? What else did he do before he left?”
“There was a picture of us beside my bed. It’s gone. He wants to erase himself from my life.”
“Anything else?”
“The drawer, in the kitchen…” Her face scrunched as if she recoiled in silent pain. “I took the pad out of the drawer to leave him a note. My checkbook is underneath. It’s…it’s missing two checks. I remember the numbers. I keep everything in order.”
“Of course you do.”
“The numbers are two off. I didn’t write those checks.” She swallowed hard. “He must have, and tried to cover it up. Why? Why would he do that to me? If he’d needed money that desperately, I would’ve…” Her head rocked against the cushion. “But I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have trusted him.”
That revelation offered enough for her first session.
Liam wanted to grab the guy by the throat and force a confession, to ease Sophia’s hurt. Didn’t matter, it was time to bring her back.
“Sophia, you’re finished with this scene. It’s time to return to the staircase.”
Her head tossed. “There’s something else. A light. Small. Never saw it before. Red…a tiny red light…”
She was going too deep, getting too emotionally invested in the depths of her subconscious. He needed to pull her out now.
He strengthened his tone. “Do you hear me, Sophia?”
She nodded. “But…I need to see what it is…”
“The space around you is four walls of a canvas,” he said, relating to something she’d grasp onto and recognize. “The canvases are covered in whitewash. They dissolve. In front of you, all you see is the open door. It leads you to the darkened steps that take you upward.”
“I see,” she said, much calmer.