by SM West
I feared a repeat of the past. That’s why I’d booked the appointment today because Bobby was supposed to be out of town. Of course, he ruined my plans.
“Why the fuck does he want you? He knows you’re off limits,” he spits out. Brutishly biting my neck, I let out a yelp. The harsh burn shoots through me. Ouch, that’s going to leave a mark.
“Bobby.” I subtly push, he’s not budging. Without further reaction to the pain inflicted, I dig deeper to shut it out. “This is a business transaction, nothing else. He’s married. I promise I’ll be no more than three hours.”
With another kiss on the cheek, I hold my breath, hoping he’ll release me. It works, but not before he forces his sloppy tongue down my throat. All the while, violently squeezing my bottom. Deep breaths and a blank mind prevent me from puking.
“Anthony’s taking you and sitting in on the meeting,” he states. I nod once and hastily retreat.
As we drive to my gallery in SoHo, Bobby’s possessiveness pulls me back to my first encounter with him. Meeting him irreparably altered my life. I was barely sixteen. Returning home from my dance class, my father ordered me to go on a date with Bobby Thornton. I’d never heard of him. The son of my father’s business associate, Joseph Thornton.
He’d apparently seen me the week before at the Opera with my parents. He wanted to meet me. I was flattered. I mean, what sixteen-year-old wouldn’t be? I was also nervous. Who was this guy? He’s twenty-one. What the hell would I have in common with this man?
I shamefully admit upon meeting him, his handsomeness was hard to miss, yet he was also scary. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Our date was my descent into one of the world’s darkest places. My parents sent me off with this stranger, with proud grins. I was the sacrificial lamb, an offering, to be slaughtered.
At first, the conversation was comfortable and relaxed. We were on our way to Long Island for dinner. It wasn’t until the Verrazano bridge when we hit traffic that things changed. His dark presence unsettled me.
We sank into suffocating silence. Bobby leered at my bare legs. My mother had insisted I wear a small, sheath sleeveless black dress. While the dress came to about mid-thigh, sitting in his car, the hem had crept up several inches higher, revealing more skin than I’d have liked.
I didn’t have a lot of experience with boys, let alone men. I’d been on some dates, had a few kisses and had just recently broken up with my boyfriend of all of three weeks, Leland Cartwright. He gave no reason for the breakup and while there really hadn’t been any time for deep feelings to develop, I was sad and disappointed.
Bobby’s large calloused hand rested on the top of my knee. I tensed at his touch. My stomach clenched as his hand slowly progressed up my leg. Inching up my inner thigh, towards the most private and untouched part of me. I froze.
His Porsche was idling on the bridge, like the countless cars surrounding us, we weren’t moving. We were stuck in traffic. I looked up. Bobby’s salacious grin struck me like a shark baring its razor-edge teeth just before going in for the kill. His dark, soulless eyes predatory. His overwhelming presence engulfed the confines of the vehicle.
His intent was anything but pure and it didn’t matter how I felt about it. He was going to take without permission or hesitation, like a pirate pillaging a ship. I grabbed his wrist tightly, digging my short fingernails into his skin. This briefly halted his movement.
“Tate, relax. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He leered at my barely-there cleavage. “I’ll make this good for you.”
“No,” I croaked.
My heart pounded, threatening to break out of my chest. My hands were clammy and small beads of sweat were forming on the back of my neck and upper lip. I still had the briefest hope my wishes would be heard, honored.
“I’m going to make you mine. Tate, you are mine. Say it,” he ordered. His hand on the move again. Despite what I thought was a vice-like grip on his big wrist, my actions did nothing to restrain him.
“Say it,” he shouted.
“No,” I cried.
Fear filled my every pore, drowning me, even still I wasn’t going to let this monster terrorize me. Without knowing my next move, I determined nothing would stop me from fighting ‘til the bitter end.
“Get your hand off me. I am NOT yours,” my shriek frightened me.
I’d never raised my voice before. I’d never had reason to fear for my life, my safety.
Bobby savagely slapped me across the face. Red hot pain ricocheted through my skull. Water pooled in my eyes and my cheek pulsed.
Warm liquid leaked from my nose. The tinny taste hit my tongue as the scent filled my nostrils. Touching my nose, my fingers were smeared with dark, red blood. So caught up in his physical assault, I didn’t realize what was coming until it was too late. His fingers ruthlessly shoved my flimsy cotton underwear aside, thrusting his fingers through my dry folds. My eyes widened. I cried out in shock and shame.
Out of my depth, I’d been thrown to the wolves. I frantically scanned the area for an exit. Wall to wall cars. If I ran, he’d come after me and likely catch me. I had nowhere to hide. Still, I couldn’t let this happen. Before he realized, I opened the door and attempted to bolt. His huge hand crushed my thigh, his fingernails breaking skin. On instinct, I swung around, brutally smacking him across the face. The violent crack reverberated through my hand.
That would be the first and last time I’d ever successfully strike him in the face. I scraped my nails along his cheek. With the element of surprise as my ally, he released me, both hands holding his face. I used the rare chance to sprint from the car.
Bobby growled my name, his fist hitting the steering wheel. The horn blasted. I kept running. My racing heartbeat and heavy breaths the only things I was aware of. My heels were slowing me down as I weaved in and out of the cars.
A few people called out to me. Telling me to get off the road, one or two even offered help. I refused to stop for anything nor dared to look back despite wondering if he was following me and if so, how close. I kept my focus straight ahead.
My mind was muddled and frantic. A light drizzle fell with only the bridge lights to pave the way. Shivers racked my body as the fine, wet mist landed on my bare arms and legs. I didn’t know where I was going. My only mission was run. Run as fast and as far as I could. The chilly, wet night air coated my steps, propelling me further away from the beast.
After what seemed like seconds, but was likely many minutes, I dared to look behind me. Bobby wasn’t there. It was only then I allowed myself to pause, to breakdown. Tears and gasping sobs sprung forth like a waterfall. I kept moving. I continued to sprint, as best as I could in my shoes, along the side of the bridge further away from the nightmare.
Finally, off the bridge, I ducked into the darkness of an alcove to make a call. I couldn’t risk Bobby either tracking or finding me once he got his car off the bridge. Fortunately, I had my purse. I’d been wearing it across my body while sitting in the car and my phone was inside. Only one person came to mind. Max. He didn’t have his license, but a friend drove him to pick me up. We stayed holed up at his friend’s place until well after midnight.
Unfortunately, our waiting till my parents were in bed backfired. Turned out, Bobby had gone straight to my house after trying to find me. He waited with them for me. I saw his car in our driveway when we pulled up at a little after one in the morning.
Max stayed with me, never leaving my side as my parents challenged everything I said. They didn’t believe me. Bobby remained silent throughout my interrogation. His malevolent stare never strayed from me.
Even with all that, I was still naïve enough to think I’d chart my own path and if I never chose to see Bobby again, it would be so. I’d soon learn just how stupid and guileless I was.
***
RETURNING TO THE PENTHOUSE, AFTER an uneventful meeting with Leland, I find it empty. Scribbled on a note pad is the new location for Bobby’s meeting. It’s now in New Jersey, nowhere near
the original location I’d shared with Rylan at our last meet.
Should I trust this? Second guessing any information is crucial. It could be a trap. Regardless, it’s worth the risk to warn Rylan. I’m not sure what it means, but it doesn’t sit well with me.
Just then, the elevator doors open and out walks Bobby. His perpetual scowl, just for me, is firmly in place.
“Where are you going? You just got here,” he snarls. Bobby loves any opportunity to remind me that my every move is watched. Thank you very much.
“I’m grabbing some dinner. Do you want anything?” I blurt out the first excuse that comes to mind. I need to leave.
“Get Anthony to grab it.” Taking my bicep, he leads me away from the elevator. Thinking quickly, I decide to play it sweet and stroke his ego. I hope I’m able to soften him enough to let me go.
“Anthony doesn’t know what I want. I’m craving tempura. Only you know what I like,” I deliver with my best seductive voice. I sound pathetic, more hate than heat. “Can you get it for me? We can have a quiet night together?”
I’m hoping he can’t be bothered to cater to my needs and lets me leave. I’m actually surprised he’s here. Perhaps meeting is still scheduled for tomorrow at a different location?
“Can’t. I forgot something and then I’m out for the night.” We’re standing steps from the elevator as he yanks me flush against his chest, knocking the wind out of me. “Shit, I wish I could stay home and fuck you. I leave tomorrow,” he growls.
His lips cover mine. His teeth latch on so hard that my skin punctures. With an intense sting, blood flows into my mouth. Pulling away, he chuckles wickedly. My blood coats his teeth. He’s an onyx-eyed vampire coveting me like I’m his next meal.
“Get out of here and don’t eat too much. Don’t want you messing up your fucking perfect body.”
He propels me toward the elevator, whacking my ass before striding into the penthouse. I hightail it out of there. Anthony’s nowhere in sight. In the cab, I call the restaurant to let Noel know I need to meet Wolfe.
The restaurant number is legit as are the many orders I’ve placed. What Bobby doesn’t know is I give them a special number and then I’m redirected to Noel. He arrives thirty minutes later and drives to an apartment in a nice middle-class Bronx neighborhood.
WOLFE OPENS THE DOOR, SMIRKS and walks into the apartment. He’s been in a fight. His left eye is angry, red and swollen.
“Rylan, what happened to you?” I tag his shoulder and slip past him, my chest grazing his arm. The heat from our touch tingles through my chest. I take a closer look at the cut above his eye.
“Would you let it go if I said you should see the other guy?” he playfully responds. His full, red lips turn up into a smile, blue eyes twinkle with amusement.
“Nope. What happened?”
I notice a doorway leading into a small galley kitchen. Without asking, I enter, opening drawers and cupboards until I find a cloth. Grabbing ice from the freezer, I dump a few cubes on the cloth and motion for him to come closer.
Slowly walking toward me, his penetrating eyes questioning, “What happened here?”
His thumb tenderly runs along my bottom lip. My tongue grazes the tip of his digit. His touch and salty taste spark a tingling heat across my skin. A deep yearning takes hold. Something I’ve fought for weeks. Something forbidden.
“I asked first,” I murmur.
The back of his hand skims my jaw and down the side of my neck. Pushing my hair off my shoulder, he gently cups the nape of my neck causing shivers down my spine. His thumb slides back and forth over my pulse point, tilting his head to the side and his eyes narrow, examining my skin.
“What happened here? It looks like a fucking bite,” he growls.
Shit, Bobby. Inspecting my skin, a tempest is brewing in his captivating eyes. Volatile energy radiates off him in waves.
“I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”
My fingers tentatively and tenderly trace the small cut dissecting his dark eyebrow. Placing the makeshift ice pack gently on his eye, his long fingers wrap around mine. I could pull my hand away. He’s got it, but I don’t. Time stops as we stare intently at each other.
Both held captive by this powerfully invisible pull. We’re suspended in this mercurial moment of hunger. We always seem to find ourselves here no matter what we do. His phone rings, breaking the spell.
“Wolfe,” he says. We’re so close I can hear a muffled male voice on the other end. I can’t make out his words. “Yup, got it. Stay on him.” He ends the call and steps away from me, leaving the icepack in my hand.
“Bobby did that to you? Your lip and that bite?” he asks in a curt and tense tone.
“Yes. Nothing I can’t handle. Now tell me what happened to you. Please.” His jaw hardens with a small muscle twitch. It’s evident he’s not impressed with my statement. I can’t figure out if he’s ticked at Bobby or me?
“Bobby called me this morning, changing the time of the meet to five o’clock at the marina. We were to go over the deal we’re putting together with your father. It was a setup. When I got there, he wasn’t there, but a few of his friends were. They had a message for me…”
“Oh, my God, he did this to you?”
“It could’ve been worse.” He shrugs. “They landed a few hits. He was just flexing his muscles, making me know he doesn’t like me. He hates that I meet with your father and I’m pretty sure he hates me meeting with you. He wants me to understand he’s in control.”
“Shit, I almost forgot. There’s another meeting location in New Jersey,” I say, handing over the address. “I don’t know when. I’m guessing it’s tonight. I think Bobby will be there.”
“I know. That call confirmed he’s there.”
Not surprisingly, my stomach growls. Placing one hand on my stomach and the other over my mouth, I cringe in embarrassment.
“Let’s order some food,” he chuckles.
Taking my hand, he leads me down the hall. I’m surprised by his bold gesture and also somewhat relieved. Perhaps this means we can move past the tension since our non-existent kiss? I hope so. Although touching him isn’t wise. That could get us into the same kind of trouble.
The room is sparsely furnished with a couch, a coffee table and a TV. It’s void of any indication that someone lives there. We decide on Chinese. Once the food arrives, we settle on either end of the couch to eat.
“Ry, who lives here?” He stops, a spring roll midway to his mouth, attentively studying me. What did I do wrong?
“Only my family call me Ry,” he says.
“Sorry?” I ask, not sure if I should apologize or not. His head tilts back, emitting a deep throaty laugh. The sound of his joy warms me. I like hearing him laugh. I like it. A lot.
“You can call me Ry. It’s all good.”
Stuffing the roll in his mouth, his strong jaw and Adam’s apple move up and down, as he chews and swallows. Being a voyeur to this most basic act is somehow sexy and personal. It’s hard to explain. His confident, quiet strength and overwhelming masculinity, feed a need I never knew I had. Damn, I don’t stand a chance at killing my attraction to him.
He’s rugged and all kinds of delectable with a dusting of dark stubble along his jaw and his hair is in disarray. For the first time, he’s not wearing a suit. Instead, his muscular body is clothed in faded blue jeans, hanging low on his slim hips, and a gunmetal gray Henley. His feet are bare, so casual yet seeming so intimate.
“This is a safe house. I’m crashing here.”
“You’re not from New York?”
He pauses like he’s contemplating something, his brow creases, eyes sharp. “Yeah, I’m from New York. But when on a case, especially if you’re undercover, you limit the times you go home. It’s too dangerous.”
“I get it. Especially for your wife or girlfriend,” I say. Real subtle, Tate. The phone call weeks ago, still nags me. It’s none of my business, yet I can’t resist finding out more. It’s a poor and o
bvious attempt to find out if he has a significant other. Talk about a fishing expedition. Why don’t you tell me if you’re sleeping with anyone and how many sexual partners you’ve had?
“Yeah, I guess, but I don’t have either of those. So, no worries.” Rylan grins, clearly amused.
Heat slowly rises up my neck, I squirm in my seat. I’m blushing. I haven’t blushed in years, not since…stop. I can’t go there. In fact, thinking about Griffin is a sobering thought. This is wrong and pointless.
“I have to go.” Grabbing the empty takeout cartons, I head for the kitchen. I sense him on my heels, his intense heat pressing into my back.
“Tate, relax. You don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do. I have to get home before Bobby does.”
“I’m pretty sure Bobby won’t be home for hours. I’ve received an update. He’s at a…ah, he’s at a strip club. If his past activities are any indication, he’ll be there for hours.”
Ry appears unusually uncomfortable. I’ve never seen this man unsure. He’s confident and always exudes a ‘devil may care’ attitude. Right now, I’m guessing he’s worried this news may upset me.
“Yup, most probably,” I utter, unfazed.
I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of my husband’s infidelity, and I tell him as much. Besides, I’m sure Rylan and his team know a lot more about Bobby’s extramarital activities than I do.
Despite Bobby’s noxious obsession with me, it doesn’t stop him from fucking anything with a vagina. And he takes great pleasure in telling me, like I care. In fact, on the one hand, I’m sympathetic to these women because they won’t know he’s a savage until it’s too late. On the other hand, I’m selfishly glad it’s not me.
Rylan takes my hand, my stomach flip flops, and tugs me toward him. Only a foot apart, his scent invades my space, with spice and evergreen. It’s appealing and comforting. The need to rub my thighs together, to soothe the ache, is overpowering.
