by Anna Zaires
She’s not freezing me out this easily.
I won’t let her.
“Excuse me. What are you doing?”
Startled by the shrill voice, I look up.
A thin older woman bundled in a puffy jacket is standing a few feet away, her gray-blond perm forming a frizzy halo around her head.
“Well?” she demands with a scowl. “You’re trespassing on my property. Explain yourself, or I’ll call the police.”
She must be Emma’s landlady.
I stand up, brushing the snow off my palms on my coat. “Sorry about that. I’m looking for Emma. She’s not answering the door for some reason.”
She blinks up at me, her frown disappearing. “You’re looking for Emma?”
“Yes. Do you know where she is? I can’t reach her.”
“Oh, I see.” She gives me a thorough once-over, her gaze lingering on my Italian coat as if trying to price it out. “Are you her boyfriend or something?”
I reach deep for my patience. “Yes, we’re dating. Do you know why she’s not answering the door?”
“Well, of course, dear. She left for the airport extra early—you know, because of all the snow on the roads.”
Fuck. “When did she leave?”
“I’m not sure. A half hour ago? Twenty minutes, maybe?” She cocks her head. “How long have you two been dating? I’m looking after her cats, and Emma hasn’t mentioned a boyfr—”
“It’s new,” I interrupt, and hurry back to the car before the woman can launch into an interrogation.
There’s no time to waste.
I have a stubborn redhead to catch before she gets on the plane.
The traffic to the airport is horrendous, so bad that even Wilson’s driving skills can’t help. After two and a half hours of inching forward a foot a minute, I finally see the cause of the jam: an accident in the left lane. As soon as we pass it, the traffic starts moving more briskly, but the damage is done.
Emma’s flight is due to start boarding in a half hour.
Taking a deep breath to combat my frustration, I try calling her again.
Voicemail. Same as the other five times I’ve tried it.
I text her again.
Nothing. No response.
Fighting the urge to slam the phone against the window, I check the airline app.
The fucking flight is on time, and the boarding starts in twenty-three minutes.
Even if I were at the airport right now, I’d need longer than that to clear security.
She’s going to get on the plane with this huge fucking thing unresolved.
Unless…
Without giving myself a chance to think twice, I call my transportation PM.
“Richard, it’s Carelli,” I say as soon as he picks up. “I need you to get the CEO of United Airlines to call me right now. It’s urgent.”
I know the portfolio manager is dying to ask why—airline stocks are his province—but he understands the concept of urgency.
Five minutes later, I have United Airlines’ CEO on the phone. Six minutes after that, when I hang up and check the app again, the flight is delayed by an hour—and I’ve promised to abstain from shorting UAL stock for six months, to spare the CEO from explaining to his board why there’s a giant hedge fund betting against them.
The traffic clears further as we approach the airport, and I almost feel bad for holding up the plane by an hour. A half hour might’ve been plenty. When I enter the airport, however, I’m glad for the extra cushion.
The place is overrun with frantic holiday travelers and pissed-off flyers stranded by the storm. It’s so bad that by the time I get through the mile-long security line, First Class and Priority boarding for Emma’s flight has already begun.
I begin pushing my way through the crowd massed at the gate, searching for her bright hair.
There. A small, curvy figure toward the front of the Economy Class line. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a white hoodie, she’s holding a boarding pass in one hand and the handle of a small, raggedy-looking suitcase in the other.
My pulse picks up, my skin prickling with savage heat.
Fuck, I’ve missed her so much.
I was an idiot to stay away.
Feeling like a hunter honing in on his prey, I head directly for her. Other people must sense my grim determination, because they get out of my way. She’s staring straight ahead, so she doesn’t see me until I stop next to her.
And by then, it’s too late.
“Emma.” I reach out to clasp her wrist just as her gaze jumps to my face, gray eyes wide with shock. “We need to talk.”
She’s so stunned that she lets me pull her out of the crowd without protest. It’s only when we’re standing by the empty seats in the corner that she finds her tongue. “What are you doing here?” Her voice is higher-pitched than normal. “How did you get through security?”
I release her wrist to pull a boarding pass out of my pocket. “I bought this on the drive over.” It’s for a flight to Omaha, the only one that had a seat available today. Stuffing it back in my pocket, I say, “Listen, we need to talk about—”
“No, we don’t.” She tries to step around me, but I step in front of her, blocking her way.
“Yes, we do.”
Her face flushes with angry color. “My flight is boarding—”
“They’ve just started. You have time.”
Apparently realizing that I’m not going to budge, she lets go of her suitcase handle and folds her arms across her chest. “Fine. Talk.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, I almost laugh at the scowl she directs at me. With all those curls puffing up, she really does look ridiculously cute when angry. Adorable, in fact. Of course, she also looks adorable when she smiles, and when she blushes, and when she’s lying in my bed, all warm and sleepy and satisfied—fuck, I better focus.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” I say as sincerely as I can. “I should’ve called you earlier. I was working around the clock, but that’s no excuse. I promise you, it won’t happen again.” I’m about to stop there, but some demon propels me forward, pulling the words out of my mouth. “The truth of the matter is, I felt like we were getting too deep, too fast, and I seized on the emergency at the fund to put a little distance between us. But that was a mistake. I realize that now. I want us to get deeper.” I take a breath. “In fact, I was thinking that when you get back from this trip, I’d like you to move in to my place.”
Her arms drop to her sides as shock wipes away all other expression on her face. “You what?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“I want you to move in,” I repeat, clasping her small hands in each of mine. “I want you to live with me—you and all three of your cats. I know it seems fast, but I’ve made a living taking calculated risks, and believe me, this one is worthwhile. If you want to keep your apartment for now, I won’t object, but I want you with me every night.”
Her hands are icy in my grip as she stares up at me. “Why?”
“Because I want you—and you want me too.” Isn’t it obvious to her? “The chemistry we have is rare, kitten. So rare that I’ve never felt it before. I want you all the time, to the point of obsession. I’ve fought against it, tried to resist, but it’s useless. I want you—and I don’t want the bridges and tunnels getting in the way of our time together. Move in with me, Emma. It makes so much sense.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see two men in business suits whispering to one another a dozen feet away, and a woman pointing a phone at me from behind them. They’ve probably recognized me from CNBC or someplace. Normally, I’d get annoyed and step away, but this is too important to get distracted.
“Move in with me,” I say again when Emma remains silent, staring up at me in mute shock. “It will be good, you know it. I’ll take care of all the moving logistics. All you have to do is say yes.” And to remind her of just how good it will be, I curve my palm over her jaw and bend my head to kiss her.
I
meant for it to be a light, casual kiss, something befitting the public venue, but the moment our lips touch, a violent hunger takes hold of me. Three days I haven’t tasted her, three nights I’ve stayed away. Forgetting all about the onlookers, I wrap my arm around her waist, hauling her closer, and slide my other hand into her hair, gripping the curls to hold her in place as my tongue sweeps into her mouth. She tastes like bubblegum and luscious heat, like all my dreams wrapped in one sweet little package. My blood is like lava in my veins, and my cock throbs in my jeans, desperate for her slick warmth. I can’t get enough of her, will never get enough of her, and for the first time, that doesn’t scare me.
I’m going to enjoy her, all of her, for as long as this lasts.
A tiny moan escapes her lips, adding to the dark hunger beating at me, and I deepen the kiss, devouring her, sharing her breath. I can feel her small hands gripping my shoulders, can sense her arousal in the way she arches against me, and—
“Last call. Last call for United Flight 1528 to Orlando. All passengers, please proceed to the gate.”
The announcer’s strident voice is like a snowball hitting me in the face. Jolted out of the trance, I raise my head and, remembering the onlookers, let go of Emma. She steps back shakily, fingers pressed to her swollen lips.
Breathing heavily, we stare at each other. Then her left hand jerkily gropes in the air, landing on the handle of her suitcase.
“I can’t,” she says raggedly. “Marcus, I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
A dark mist veils my vision as a dull ringing starts in my ears. I must’ve misheard what she said. “What the fuck do you mean, you can’t?” My voice is low and tight, a warning in every syllable.
Her face twists, her eyes glittering with painful brightness. “I can’t do it. I can’t… can’t move in with you. I’m sorry, Marcus. What I said earlier, I meant it. It’s over. I never want to see you again.”
And as I reel from the gut-wrenching blow, she rushes around me, dragging her suitcase to the gate.
I don’t know how long I sit at the gate, staring blindly at the door through which she disappeared. All my life, I’ve set goals and achieved them, refusing to accept failure as an option. I’ve gone after what I want with determination and ruthlessness, and it’s always yielded results.
Except with Emma.
I’ve fought for her like I have for no other woman, and nothing.
I’ve offered her everything, and she’s thrown it back in my face.
The pain of the rejection is breathtaking, like someone ripped out my lungs. When she told me to leave after the broken door incident, I’d barely known her, and all I’d been after was sex. It had still smarted, being sent away after those scorching hot kisses, but it had been nothing compared to the devastation I feel now.
I’d been so certain she’d accept my proposal to move in that I’d never considered the alternative, much less that she’d refuse to date me at all.
As the shock of her words recedes, the hurt intensifies, and with it comes anger. Dark and hot, it builds within me, until I feel like it will boil me alive. I want to hurt her, to make her feel some of the pain she’s inflicted, and at the same time, I just want her.
I miss her so much I’d kill to hold her one more night.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhale deeply, trying to think past the bubbling cauldron of tangled emotions, to analyze this as I would any other investment gone bad.
Why? Why did she do this?
I know I haven’t misread her, haven’t misjudged her response.
She wants me as much as I want her.
She gave herself to me, only to change her mind and run.
There has to be a reason for her actions, something besides my stupid mistake of staying away. The Emma I know is neither shallow nor fickle, and she’s certainly not indifferent to me.
Something happened between Sunday and now, something that spooked her.
Yes, that’s it. That feels right. Something happened, something that caused her to do this—and I’m not giving up until I get to the bottom of it.
No, fuck that.
I’m not giving up until I fix it.
I want Emma, and I’m not accepting defeat.
Resolved, I launch to my feet and start walking, pulling out my phone as I do.
“Get the jet ready,” I order my pilot. “You have an hour. We’re flying to Orlando tonight.”
And hanging up, I smile darkly.
If Emma thinks I’ll let her go this easily, she doesn’t know me at all.
She can run, but she won’t get far. I won’t let her.
Emma, kitten, you’re mine. And I’m coming after you with everything I’ve got.
The End
Thank you for reading! If you would consider leaving a review, it would be greatly appreciated. Marcus & Emma’s story continues in Titan’s Addiction, which you can pre-order HERE. To be notified when it’s out, please sign up for my newsletter at www.annazaires.com.
Ready for my other sizzling stories and don’t mind a bit of darkness? Check out:
The Twist Me Trilogy – Nora & Julian’s dark, twisted love story
The Capture Me Trilogy – Lucas & Yulia’s breathtaking enemies-to-lovers romance
The Tormentor Mine Series – Peter & Sara’s intense captive romance
Darker Than Love – an addictive standalone dark romance between Yan and Mink, co-written with Charmaine Pauls
The Mia & Korum Trilogy – an epic sci-fi romance with the ultimate alpha male
The Krinar Captive – Emily & Zaron’s captive romance, set just before the Krinar Invasion
The Krinar Exposé – my scorching hot collaboration with Hettie Ivers, featuring Amy & Vair—and their sex club games
The Krinar World stories – Sci-fi romance stories by other authors, set in the Krinar world
Prefer action, fantasy, and sci-fi? Check out these collaborations with my hubby, Dima Zales:
The Girl Who Sees – the thrilling tale of Sasha Urban, a stage illusionist who discovers unexpected secret powers
Mind Dimensions – the action-packed urban fantasy adventures of Darren, who can stop time and read minds
Upgrade – the mind-blowing technothriller featuring venture capitalist Mike Cohen, whose Brainocyte technology will forever change the world
The Last Humans – the futuristic sci-fi/dystopian story of Theo, who lives in a world where nothing is as it seems
The Sorcery Code – the epic fantasy adventures of sorcerer Blaise and his creation, the beautiful and powerful Gala
If you like audiobooks, please visit www.annazaires.com to check out this series and our other books in audio.
And now, please turn the page for a little taste of Darker Than Love and The Girl Who Sees.
Excerpt from Darker Than Love
Once upon a cold, dark night, a Russian killer stole me from an alley.
I’m dangerous, but he is lethal.
I escaped once.
He won’t let me do it twice.
The revenge is his.
The betrayal is mine.
But so are the lies to protect the ones I love.
We’re cut from the same twisted cloth. Both merciless. Both damaged.
In his embrace, I find hell and heaven, his cruelly tender touch destroying and uplifting me at once.
They say a cat has nine lives, but an assassin has just one.
And Yan Ivanov now owns mine.
“So, how long have you worked at the bar?” the guy with the skull tattoos—the seemingly kinder one—asks when I remove my winter jacket and we sit down in the living room. With its Soviet-style orange wallpaper and brown drapes, this place looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the eighties, but the ratty couch we’re sitting on is surprisingly comfortable. Maybe I will take him up on his offer to sleep here. That is, if they don’t kill me and dump my body in the river before sunrise.
I think my captor was just testing my language skills with t
hat proposal, but I can’t be sure.
“Mina?” the man prompts, and I realize I zoned out instead of answering his question. Now that some of the adrenaline is fading, the extreme exhaustion is back, muddling my thoughts and slowing my reactions. I want nothing more than to stretch out on this couch and fall asleep, but I might not wake up if I do.
The Russians might decide that what I heard merits killing me rather than just keeping me captive overnight.
“I’ve worked there for a couple of years,” I answer, my voice shaking. It’s easy to sound terrified… because I am.
I’m with two men who may want to kill me, and I’m in no state to defend myself.
The only thing that gives me hope is that they haven’t already done so. They could’ve easily murdered me in the alley; they didn’t need to bring me here for that. Of course, there’s another possibility, one that every woman must consider.
They might be planning to rape me before killing me, in which case bringing me here makes perfect sense.
The thought makes my stomach churn, the old memories threatening to crowd in, but underneath the fear and disgust is something darker, infinitely more fucked up. The brief sizzle of arousal I’d experienced at the bar was nothing compared to how it had felt when the dangerous stranger caged me against the wall, caressing my face with that cruel gentleness. My body—the weak, ruined body I’ve spent the past year hating—had come to life with such force, it was as if fireworks had ignited under my skin, liquifying my core and burning away my inhibitions.
Was he able to sense it?
Did he know how badly I wanted him to keep touching me?
I think he did. And more than that, I think he wanted to. His eyes—a hard, gem-like green—had watched me with the dark intensity of a predator, taking in every twitch of my lashes, every hitch of my breath. If we’d been alone, he might’ve kissed me… or killed me on the spot.
