Cracks started to form in my heart. The perfect life that I thought I had—none of it felt real. I didn’t know who to trust or who I could turn to. I tried to keep my breath steady, but it became harder and harder to do that without making any noise. I put a hand to my chest and squeezed my eyes shut.
I jumped when the doorbell rang and hurried towards it. I heard my father’s study door open and I glanced back, pretending to be coming out of the living room.
“Hi, Dad!” I smiled at him.
“I didn’t hear you come home.”
“Just got back, I was finishing up some readings.” I nodded to the door. “I’ll get it.”
My cheeks were flushed and sweat gathered under my arms. I swallowed and headed for the front door. I could feel his eyes on my back.
My whole world had turned upside down in one weekend. Three days ago, I thought I was a Senator’s daughter, getting married to a handsome and successful businessman who loved me. I thought I loved him, too. But now?
Now there were hushed discussions about guns and Russians. Now Zane had appeared, and he worked for the CIA, apparently.
My happy, simple life didn’t feel so simple anymore.
I opened the front door to see George, one of our bodyguards standing there. He nodded at me, and then looked over my shoulder at my father.
“Your car is ready, sir.”
“Thanks, George,” my father said. He turned back to his office without a word and closed the door. Thomas didn’t come out to say hello to me.
I felt a lot less like his fiancée, and a lot more like a pawn in a game I hadn’t even known existed. With my heart thumping and tears threatening to spill over, I grabbed my bag and headed up to my bedroom. I didn’t want to be there when they emerged from the study.
7
Zane
For the rest of the week, I didn’t see Sadie except for the one-hour class time. I avoided eye contact with her, and she didn’t come looking for me. By the time the Saturday fundraiser came around, I’d forced myself to stop thinking about our kiss.
It was better that way.
She was a liability, plain and simple. Somehow, Sadie had been swept up into the middle of this operation, and I didn’t know what that meant for her, or for me.
She was on Ivanov’s radar, as was her fiancé. The thought of her with someone else made my blood boil with rage, and the thought of Ivanov doing anything to her made me want to strangle him.
I was quickly losing control. Ever since Sadie’s name had passed through Ivanov’s lips, everything had changed.
Revenge against Senator Blanchet had seemed simple until now. I would come back, expose him for the vermin he was, and bury him in the ground. Best case, he’d end up dead. Worst case, he’d be in prison forever. I would avenge my parents. Then, I would leave.
Now, leaving wasn’t an option. I couldn’t throw Sadie to the wolves and then leave.
Thoughts swirled around my mind as I got ready for the fundraiser. I showered slowly, thinking of my options. Sadie didn’t deserve to be hurt. She deserved to be loved. To be loved by someone who didn’t want something from her—not like her father and Thomas.
I got out of the shower and wiped the steam from the mirror. I grabbed my razor and started shaving the stubble on my face.
She deserved to be loved by someone, and that wasn’t me. I was incapable of love. I was so full of hate, of revenge, of bitterness—loving someone as pure as Sadie wasn’t in my nature. I couldn’t do it.
But I couldn’t let her go, either.
My hand slipped when I thought of her with someone else, and the razor nicked the side of my face. I winced and then watched the bead of blood roll down my cheek. It looked almost like a tear, and I snorted. The only tears that I could shed were my own blood.
I couldn’t stand the thought of Sadie with another man, but being with me would make her miserable. Helping her would expose myself and possibly the whole operation. I was stuck, both professionally and personally. I couldn’t let her go, but I couldn’t be the man that she deserved, either.
Dressing slowly, I tried to shake the growing dread in my stomach. The cool, merciless demeanor I’d crafted over the past decade and a half was coming apart at the seams, and I didn’t like it.
I straightened my bow tie and smoothed my hair back. I looked nothing like the Zane Wolfe that had lived in DC fifteen years ago. I was strong, disciplined, controlled. I was an ex-Marine and a CIA operative. I was Dennis Norton, Georgetown Law lecturer and attorney for the Russian mafia.
I had a mission. I’d vowed to avenge my parents, and that’s what I would do.
With purposeful, measured steps, I made my way to the waiting car. Chris was driving me again. I slipped into the backseat to see Berkeley waiting for me.
“You’re not a fan of calling ahead, are you?” I straightened my tuxedo jacket and smoothed my hair again.
He handed me a tiny device with an arched eyebrow.
“You’ll wear this tonight.”
“I don’t think Senator Blanchet will be talking about the Russian mafia at a public fundraiser.” I took the microphone between my fingers. It was smaller than my fingernail.
Berkeley clipped it inside my shirt collar. “I want you to make contact with Blanchet and with Thomas Balmoral—the fiancé.”
“Balmoral?”
Berk nodded. “He’s been meeting with Blanchet a lot this week. He just got back from a business trip to London.”
“You think there’s something to it?”
“Hard to know. He’s marrying the daughter, so it could have nothing to do with the Russians. He spends more time with the father than he does with the daughter, though.”
I grunted. I despised Balmoral already.
Berkeley sighed. “Be careful, Zane.”
I grinned. “You’re not worried, are you? That’s cute.”
“About you? Nah. You’re like a cockroach: impossible to kill.”
“I fuckin’ hope so.”
He chuckled and then slipped out of the car. Chris nodded at me in the rear-view mirror, and we started driving towards the fundraiser venue. It was in an upscale loft in Penn Quarter, not far from where I lived. We drove in silence.
I should have been thinking about Senator Blanchet, and Thomas Balmoral, and Ivanov. I should have been thinking about tightening the noose around Blanchet’s neck. I should have been thinking about arresting every single one of the Russian mobsters and being a fucking national hero.
But I wasn’t.
I was thinking about Sadie. I was thinking about the flush in her cheeks after we kissed, and the way her body melted into mine. I was thinking about how good it felt to have her in my lap, how soft and supple she was. I was thinking about how much I wanted to bury my length deep inside her and feel her fingernails leave fresh, red marks on my back.
This week had been torture. She’d been so close to me during the lectures. For three glorious hours every week, I felt her gaze on me.
But I couldn’t have her. I stared at the passing buildings and hardened my heart. No, I couldn’t have her, and I needed to accept that. I’d protect her as best I could but getting involved was tantamount to suicide.
When we stopped outside the venue, I took a deep breath. This would be the first time real test with Nathan Blanchet. The meeting with Ivanov was too short, too unexpected to make any progress. Now was my chance to lay the foundation to gain his trust.
An usher directed me to an elevator and pressed the top floor for me. Another woman in a long black dress walked in. She looked me up and down and batted her long, fake eyelashes at me. I ignored her.
When the elevator dinged open, we were expelled into a room full of businessmen, dignitaries, social elite, and politicians. The air smelled of money and corruption. People flashed big smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, wearing their most expensive jewelry and swanning around like they owned the whole country.
They practically did.
&
nbsp; I felt out of place. I always did at these types of events. I’d relished the order and the discipline of the military. Enemies and allies. Black and white. Failure and success.
Here, it was a jungle. One word could mean a thousand different things, and there was no way of knowing who to trust.
I scanned the room, immediately taking note of how many people were there, familiar and unfamiliar faces, potential threats and best exit routes. It was an automatic reflex whenever I entered a new space—especially one filled with people.
Locating the open bar, I made my way over and ordered a whiskey. While the bartender poured it, I scanned the room again. I wasn’t scanning for threats this time, I was scanning for her.
And there she was.
Wearing a floor-length, royal blue gown, Sadie was laughing politely at something an old man was saying. I hated him instantly.
She turned away from me, and I saw that her dress was backless. It revealed her long, graceful spine. She had dimples of Venus on her lower back, and I longed to press my thumbs into them. My cock throbbed. Her smooth skin looked like porcelain against the deep blue of her dress. Her red hair was gathered up at the nape of her neck, with a few wild tendrils falling away from it.
I wanted to wrap my fingers into her hair, tilt her head back and taste her skin. I wanted to press my body against hers and feel her melt into me, like she did in my office. I wanted to hear her cry my name in pleasure, over and over and over.
“Sir?”
The bartender pushed the glass of whiskey towards me and I nodded. I dropped a couple dollars on the bar as a tip. I took the glass and looked back towards Sadie.
Sensing my gaze, she glanced over her shoulder at me. A flush colored her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Her pink, pouty lips looked so fucking kissable it was almost painful.
She turned her head away from me, smiling politely at something the old man had said. I hated him even more. I swept my eyes across the crowd once more. I walked towards the Dean of the Georgetown Law Center.
“Alastair,” I nodded. He touched his glass to mine.
“How’s the first week of classes going? I sat in on your lecture on Wednesday, and I must say it was fascinating.”
“I’ve never heard anybody refer to international trade law as ‘fascinating’, but thanks,” I grinned. He laughed in the way that intellectuals laugh—thinly and oozing of superiority.
Alastair said something, but at that moment, Thomas Balmoral walked up to Sadie. He put his dirty hands on her lower back—right on those perfect dimples. I wanted to rip his fucking arm off. She turned towards him and smiled, and the hatred in my chest burned hotter.
“… and can you believe, they won the case on a technicality!” Alastair scoffed, and I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Wow,” I deadpanned.
“I know! It’s good to meet someone who actually appreciates that kind of thing.”
“It certainly is fascinating.”
Balmoral’s hand inched further down, and my rage intensified. He leaned over and whispered something in Sadie’s ear. She blushed.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I said to Alastair in the middle of his impromptu lecture on Venezuelan trade agreements. He spluttered an answer, but I didn’t hear it. I strode straight across the room towards Sadie.
It was stupid. I was exposing myself. I was being aggressive and possessive and completely out of line, but I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to get Balmoral’s hands away from her perfect body.
It wasn’t a choice that I made, it was a compulsion. My feet carried me towards them before my brain could catch up. By the time I realized what I was doing, Sadie was staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Miss Blanchet,” I nodded. “Good work in this week’s assignment.”
“Have you graded them already?”
No. “Yes. Your responses were quite insightful.”
She blushed, and my cock throbbed. I turned to the lump of flesh beside her. “You must be Miss Blanchet’s boyfriend…?”
“Fiancé,” he answered haughtily. “Thomas Balmoral.”
“Balmoral,” I said, arching my eyebrows. “Of Balmoral Enterprises?”
He nodded as if it was obvious. Arrogant prick.
“You must be aware of the bill that Senator Blanchet is trying to push through the Senate next month. You’d stand to make quite a bit of money from it, wouldn’t you?”
Shut up, shut up, shut up. This wasn’t how business was done. This wasn’t how I was supposed to represent Ivanov, or anyone. This was my cock, rock hard from Sadie’s presence, and jealous of his closeness to her. Nothing more.
It was dumb, foolish, and completely uncontrollable.
Balmoral glanced at me as if I was the shit on his shoe. Before he could say anything, Nathan Blanchet appeared.
“Sadie, you look beautiful,” he said. He shook Balmoral’s hand genially, and when his eyes landed on me, his face fell. “Mister…”
“Norton. We met last week.”
“We did.” Sadie’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Her father cleared his throat. Balmoral dropped his hand from Sadie’s waist, and I breathed a bit easier. Sadie was staring at me with wide eyes, Balmoral was shooting daggers, and Blanchet was standing there, sweating.
Not exactly a productive networking encounter. If anything, I’d just made everything worse.
I cleared my throat. “See you in class.”
I slipped away, cursing myself. This was not what I had been trained to do, in the military or in the Central Intelligence Agency. I’d been trained to talk to people, to manipulate them, to gain their trust. I’d been taught discipline and control.
And then, flying in the face of fifteen years of training, I’d gone and barged in there like a raging bull. I could only imagine Berk’s face right now, as he listened from the control room. The vein on his forehead would be about ready to burst.
I found someone else to pretend to talk to and kept watching the Blanchets. Balmoral slipped away from his fiancée towards the balcony. I slid along the wall, watching him. A woman ran her fingers along his arm and kissed his cheek a little bit too familiarly. He glanced in Sadie’s direction, and then pulled the woman onto the balcony. They were obstructed by a plant, and I lost my line of sight.
Sadie, on the other hand, had a clear view. I watched her take a step towards them, looking out the window with her mouth open. Her face was full of horror, and I could only imagine what she was seeing.
Even though we’d done the same thing in my office, the way Thomas had spoken to that woman wasn’t just an act of passion. It was familiar. It was long-term.
Tears clung to Sadie’s eyelashes. Thomas must have seen her through the window, because he reappeared. I watched him grab Sadie’s arm and drag her towards the stairwell. She winced at the roughness of his touch, and rage ignited inside me.
I pulled the mic from my shirt collar and dropped it in my glass of whiskey. Oops.
I tossed the whiskey in a nearby trash can, never taking my eyes off Sadie.
I let my feet follow them to the stairwell. My heart thumped and my vision tunneled. A sense of calm cave over me, similar to the calm that I felt right before we’d go out on into the field in the military. Absolute focus, absolute determination, absolute instinct.
When I opened the stairwell door, they had gone down to the floor below us, presumably for some privacy. I glanced down the stairwell. Balmoral’s hand was gripping Sadie’s arm so tightly he would leave a mark. They were nose to nose.
“… maybe if you’d spread those legs for me earlier, I wouldn’t have to look elsewhere for a bit of pussy. And don’t give me that waiting until marriage bullshit. No one in this day and age is a virgin. You’re a lying slut.”
Sadie was a virgin? My eyes widened as another step brought me closer. Time slowed down.
“You’re just a whore like the rest of them. I’ll give you exactly what you want. You probably like it rough, don’t you?”<
br />
He pushed her against the wall and clawed at her dress. She struggled against him, trying to stop his hands from reaching between her legs.
“Stop,” she cried out. I saw red. “Thomas, stop.”
I was running now, flying down the steps towards them. I didn’t care who the fuck he was, or what Blanchet and he were talking about behind closed doors. I didn’t care about Blanchet, or revenge, or anything except getting this fucking bastard’s hands off Sadie. My Sadie.
My palm landed on his shoulder with a thud. He grunted as I spun him around. Sadie’s dress was falling off her shoulder and she crossed her arms over her chest as tears fell down her face.
Grabbing Balmoral by the neck, I lifted him off the ground and carried him towards the stairs. He struggled, clamping his hands on my wrists and kicking me as hard as he could.
I winced as his foot made contact with my shins, but I didn’t stop. I was stronger than him, and we both knew it. I carried him to the bannister and leaned him over the edge.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing to Sadie?”
“Let go of me!”
“Shut the fuck up.”
My voice was calm, even, measured. Every sense was heightened. Sadie sniffled and panted behind me. Balmoral’s pulse thundered between my hands, and I could smell the fear in his sweat. His eyes bulged as I pushed him further over the edge of the stairs. If I let go, he’d fall eleven stories.
“Put me down!” He squirmed.
“I’d stop moving if I were you, I might just lose my grip.” His hands tightened on my wrists, and his eyes widened some more. “Good. Now. Listen to me closely.”
Sadie was still panting. “Zane…” she whispered. I growled. She shouldn’t be using my real name, but then again, I shouldn’t be holding her fiancé over the edge of the stairwell. Balmoral frowned, and I pushed him an inch further over the edge.
This was stupid, dangerous, and it could get me into trouble.
I didn’t give a flying fuck. No one, and I meant no one, would touch Sadie like that.
“If you ever, I mean ever, lay a finger on Sadie Blanchet again, I will kill you. Look into my eyes.” I waited for Blanchet to open his eyes to look at me. “I will kill you. If one hair on her head is out of place, I’ll find you and ask you to answer for it. Do you understand me?”
His Vow: The Protector Series: Book 1 Page 6
