He's more charming than he was the day before; I know I'm not making this up. I mean this is Bryce Connors, smiling and being conversational. And it's making me furious.
"Hey, remember that one night in Angola?" He says, grinning at her. She barks out a laugh, and they just chuckle together as if the story is so fresh they don't even need to say it out loud.
Yeah, don't mind me, guys. I'll just sit here and fucking nod like an idiot while you rehash your drug addict pasts.
Goddamnit, I am jealous.
Sasha turns and smiles that viper smile at me; "So, Peyton." My attention snaps to her bitchy face; "How'd things go last night?"
Confusing, conflicting, and it's messing with my head in ways I can't even begin to describe.
"They went fine."
She nods; "Good. He asked about you today, you know."
Great.
"So when can you meet him again maybe for something more...intimate this time?"
Bryce's face goes red and he bares his teeth, like some sort of animal; "She has a boyfriend."
Sasha shoots him a look; "Oh really?" She says, eyeing Bryce's suddenly stoic look with a predatory grin.
"I can meet him whenever, that's no problem," I say evenly, leveling my eyes at Bryce.
"Wonderful, let's say tonight then. We need to move things along so that he gets you access to the monastary and your brother."
Bryce's tea-cup comes crashing down on the table, cracking the saucer beneath it; "Fuck this, this is a terrible plan."
"Do you have a better one?" Sasha says sweetly, ignoring the broken dish.
"I'm working on it. We're not sending her in to- to do that."
I swallow heavily; "Tonight it is." I shoot him a look, as if to remind him that he doesn't own me.
Sasha grins that wicked smile at the two of us knowingly and chuckles; "Well, this has been fun." She turns to Bryce; "And your friend in the State Department is still willing to go through with our arrangement?"
"Yes," He growls through clenched teeth.
"Well then, I'll be seeing you two later." Neither of us say a word as Sasha slinks out of her seat and slips away.
"You're not fucking doing this."
"It's not your decision," I spit out, standing to leave.
"The fuck it isn't."
I gasp as I feel his hand shoot out and grab my wrist; "Get your hands off me, don’t touch me“
"Not if it means his hands get to."
"You don't get to make those decisions anymore," I say quickly, shaking his hand off and running for the door.
I can do this.
That's not to say I'm not utterly terrified and trying hard not think about what "doing this" may actually mean later. But I know deep down that I can take anything. After the childhood I had? Yeah, I can take it.
I hope.
I've got the hotel room to myself, which is fine because I need to clear my head and get my thoughts in line for what I have to do.
I've told Bryce not to be there at the restaurant where I'll be meeting Anderson, which of course triggered him storming out of the room, but again, that's fine. I just need to get through this, because damn it, I am going to get my brother back.
The stone-lined streets of the city are lit up like a candle-lit dreamscape after dark. Lanterns and candelabras fill the air with an almost mystical glow as I make my way to the restaurant. The thought occurs to me that this would be beautiful if I could even think of that right now.
There's a moment where I wonder if he'll even be here. For a flash of second, right before I walk into the restaurant, there's this glimmer of hope in the back of my head that he bailed, or lost interest, or hell, even maybe got wise to our plan.
No luck, of course.
He's there, grinning at me when I walk in, and it's not thirty seconds later when I realize who else is here as well.
Goddamnit, Bryce.
He's sitting at the bar, eyeing me with a dark look as he nurses a coffee. This is exactly why I didn't want him here. Because I don't know if I can do this anyways, but with him here, all bets are off.
"Heya babe! Lookin hot tonight!" Anderson is drunk of course, or at least well on his way to being there when he wraps me in a gross, sweaty bear hug.
"Um, thanks," I say, smiling thinly as I pull away from his embrace and sit at our table. He's ordered me a drink already, again.
"So, couldn't get enough of the Bull, huh?"
"Excuse me?"
He grins this smug, piggy smile at me; "Oh, yeah, that's just my nickname some of the guys call me; The Bull." I cringe as he snorts loudly, his fingers on his forehead like horns and drawing virtually every eye in the place to our table.
This is exactly the type of man I hate, because he reminds me of Bill. Mulish, loud, drunk, and obnoxious, all with that mean streak in his eyes. This is exactly the type of man who'd terrorize anyone around him just because he could and they couldn't fight back. This is the type of man who'd hit a high school girl; who'd laugh while he burned her with a cigarette.
Get through this. Just get through this for Logan.
"So what brings you to Istanbul, babe?"
"Oh, business." I've already planned these answers; “My company is making some land deals here."
Anderson snorts on his drink; "Well, well! A workin lady! I always wanted to land me a rich gal!"
Against every warning bell inside my head, I chance a look over his shoulder at Bryce, who's quite openly just staring at the back of Anderson's back like he wants him to spontaneously explode under his gaze.
Anderson suddenly reaches across the table and grabs my hands, rubbing them hard and aggressively but in a way I'm sure he thinks, or maybe read in some guy magazine, demonstrates his affections or turns me on or something.
Spoiler: it doesn't.
I chance another glance towards the bar and see Bryce's eyes burning holes in the back of Anderson's head, murder in his look.
Just get through this.
I go through the rest of my fake story while Anderson finishes his drink, then a second, and then mine, since I obviously haven't touched it. I tell him about the colleges I never went to, the house in Malibu I don't have, and the ski-trip to Switzerland I'm not taking next month while he eye-rollingly orders the both of us the closest thing to a hamburger you could hope to get at a small restaurant in Turkey.
It's a constant struggle to keep the smile on my face as he gets drunker and drunker. Because the more he drinks, and the louder he gets, the closer to Bill he gets in my eye. And that nagging, horrible little burning thought in the back of my head about what probably needs to come later tonight has me almost gagging on my food.
But I have to do this, because family is family, and it took me most of my life to find one who loved me and I'm sure as hell not going to give up on him.
"Well, Anderson, thank you for such a lovely evening!" I smile as I put my napkin down. He's wasted; looking at me cockeyed as he sips his whiskey and slumps in his chair.
This might just be the miracle I need; a date that's far too drunk to do anything but go home and sleep. I'm not saying I can't do this, but I'll certainly put it off as long as I fucking can.
His hand moves across the table faster than I'd ever give him credit for and tightly grabs my wrist; "Hey now, hell no. The night's not even begun, babe."
I knew this is where this was headed when I signed up for this, but the reality has my whole body freezing up; my heart pounding in my throat.
I have to do this, for my family
"Oh, I-
OK, I lied, I can't do this. The revelation hits me the second I look down into Anderson’s horribly learing face and see the terrible man I killed there in his eyes. And suddenly, the whole plan is crumbling around me, because I know right there that there's no fucking way I can do this.
"Oh c’mon now, honey." He's leaning close across the already small table, touching my hands, making my blood freeze as he gets closer and closer with those
piggish eyes gleaming at me; "Let's go find ourselves a quiet place and keep the party going."
"I-"
And then it's not Anderson in front of me anymore, it's fully Bill. It's Bill bullying me around, Bill ordering me to do something, Bill opening the bathroom door while I'm showering and grinning at me while I shriek. He may have never touched me in that way, aside from the hits and the slaps and the burns, but they were the same lingering looks and leers that this man is giving me right now. And I'm slowly feeling myself freeze up, losing my ability to say no, or really anything else as he invades my personal space, slowly wearing and breaking me down.
I'm freezing up in a way I never do, and all I want to do right then is get away from him, even if I'm pretty sure I couldn't make my legs work anyways.
“C’mon, baby."
"I..I-"
"Let Anderson make you feel real goo-"
He grunts suddenly as he's shoved away from me, and I gasp and look up in shock.
Of course, it's Bryce. Bryce with his teeth bared like some sort of wild animal and every muscle in his body tensed while his eyes blaze liquid fire and hatred at the man he's just shoved away from me.
Anderson sputters as he leaps to his feet; "Hey pal, what the shit!"
For a moment, I think Bryce is going to actually kill him, or at least break him in horrible ways with his bare hands. But I can physically see the way he shoves that down inside; the way he takes a breath, the way his face drops back to neutral and the way he forces the anger from every fiber of his being.
He turns to me, all smiles now; "Ms. Black; I'm sorry but you've got a call from the home office, and it's very important."
"Hey bud, I'm talkin to y-"
"Apologies," Bryce says, his voice like hard-honed steel; "But Ms. Black has business to attend to."
I recover, picking my jaw off the ground as I stare at Bryce and try and collect my thoughts; "Oh, yes, I'm sorry Anderson, this is my- my assistant."
Bryce shoots me a dark look.
"Well, send him the fuck away, babe."
"I'm so sorry," I say, wincing like leaving this utter debacle of a date is the last thing I want to do right now; "I really do have to take this though."
Anderson glowers at Bryce; the two of them facing each other unflinchingly with the drunk one on the left probably totally unaware of how close he is to being torn limb from limb by the dark-haired man calmly smiling at him.
"I'll call you, I promise," I say quickly to Anderson as I grab Bryce's arm with an iron grip and quickly drag us through the restaurant towards the door.
*****
"I can not believe you!" We've marched back to the room in silence; past the glimmering candles of the light festival and through the shadows dancing on the old stonework walls of the city. But once we're back in the hotel room, I whirl on Bryce.
"Excuse me?" He growls, slamming the door shut as he loosens the tie at his neck.
"You're going to ruin the one chance we've got of getting Logan back, because your fucking ego won't let you just let me do what I have to do!"
"What?!" He explodes; "You think I was going to sit back and just watch that happen?!" He tears his tie off his neck and whips it across the room, his eye steely fire as he glares at me; "Jesus fucking Christ, Peyton, you were shaking back there. You were losing it yourself."
"I was perfectly in control!" I lie, hoping the anger in my voice covers how unconvincing I know I sound.
I whirl and start to storm away, but he grabs my hand, pulling me back and spinning me into him. I gasp as I come crashing into his chest, my hands against him as I look up to see the dark storms of his eyes boring into mine; “I couldn’t watch him just fucking touch you like that,” He growls. I can feel the heat throbbing between us, thick with the unspoken and the words held back; “I couldn’t watch him or any other man in the world put their fucking hands on you.”
“You don’t own me,” I say lowly, yanking my hand away from him storming off towards the bathroom door.
“Yeah? Who’re you trying to convince, sweetheart?” He throws after me.
I slam the door and lean against it, feeling my face burn and my pulse race; damn this man. Damn the way he gets ahold of me like that, damn him for getting under my skin and into my thoughts, and damn him for knowing exactly what to say to me at every turn.
The steam rises quickly from the tap as I crank the hot water up, shedding my clothes as storm-clouds brew across my face. There’s just too much going on right now, too many ups and down and spikes of adrenaline for one night. And truth be told, I need to shower after that debacle with Anderson. I shiver again, thinking of his hand on mine, his thuggish, leering looks stripping away my clothes right there at the table.
But then, as I step under the cleansing hot spray of the water, I think of Bryce. Bryce stepping in to stop it, Bryce taking me away from it all. I don’t need saving. I’m not some fucking damsel in a tower that needs a knight to come swooping in while I faint delicately in the background. But what I need, and what I’ve always needed, is just someone to show they care. Someone to step up to the darkness and face it right there with me, if only just to say “you’re not alone.”
And that’s what he is.
He’s not my savior, he’s my strength. He’s the match that lights the kindling beneath me. For better or for worse, and no matter how much I want it not to be true after what happened a year ago, that’s the role he plays.
And damn him for that.
My mind betrays me as I lean against the shower wall, letting the scalding hot water draw the tension from my skin. I start to think of other things that Bryce Connors does to me. The way his eyes pierce into mine, seeing right into me like no one else ever has, or the way his hands feel sliding over my skin, as if memorizing every curve and every flaw.
And I think of the way his lips feel on mine; the way he kisses me with a searing need and a blazing passion that has me falling apart inside.
My body betrays me then too, and my wayward thoughts of the man I swore to forget but just can’t turn deeper; darker. I think of the ways our bodies fit together, the way his skin feels on mine, the way he gets me trembling and begging for him; the way he makes me come. My nipples slowly harden under the teasing hot spray of the shower, the electric drops of the water sending little sparks through my body as they tease across my chest. Heat blooms forbidden and tempting between my legs, and I bite my lip as a traitorous hand begins to slide down my tummy, over my my hips and down between my legs to feel the slippery wetness there.
The door to the room suddenly opens abruptly, and I gasp, yanked from my reverie by the sound of Bryce jumping out of my forbidden fantasies and storming into the here and now; “What the fuck!” I shriek, yanking my hand away from myself and turning away from the door; “Bryce-“
“Tell me you’ve never thought of us,” His silhouette growls from the other side of the curtain; “Tell me you’ve never thought of what was, that you’ve never second guessed any of it, and I’ll walk back out that door right now.”
I bite my lip, trembling and not trusting myself to even open my mouth in that moment.
Roar (Military Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (Soldiers of Fortune Book 4) Page 8
