“One further thing we didn’t discuss,” Tom calls back as he drives.
“What’s that?”
“Mr. Garret’s generosity.”
“You don’t have to tell me about that.” I laugh. My head’s still spinning with the thought of all the luxurious designer clothes that are now mine. It doesn’t seem real. And part of me thinks they’re a waste too, because I’m never going to the kind of fancy places they would look right in. They’re all way too much for a trip to the movies or the mall food court.
He’s not just generous, either. He’s true to his word.
Nothing Veronica chose for me is too revealing or tight. Nothing that makes me physically uncomfortable. Mentally? Ah, that’s another story, but it has nothing to do with the clothing itself. It has to do with me. Even with all the work I’ve done on myself, all the books I’ve read, the seminars I’ve watched, the journaling, the mediation, the different tapping techniques, and every other method I’ve tried to get over the crap in my head from when I was a kid, my self-image is still garbage.
Chapter 16
Dani
“Here we are. I’ll have one of the bellhops help bring the bags upstairs.” Tom gets out of the car to open the door for me, then hurries inside to grab some help.
Again, I have to stop myself from telling him not to bother, that I’ll manage. I need to learn how to accept help. I bet Brock’s ex-girlfriend would never struggle to get all these bags upstairs by herself.
I thank the bellhop for loading everything onto a cart. Should I tip him? Jesus, pretending to be rich is a minefield. He goes inside before I can even open my purse. I exhale loudly and am about to follow him when, out of nowhere, a hand clamps around my upper arm. I barely have time to register who’s manhandling me before he’s in my face.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarls.
“Luke!” And just like that my little fantasy world breaks into half. The cherry on top of my shit sundae.
His eyes are blazing with mad light.
Tom has already pulled away. Even in the middle of a crowded Manhattan sidewalk, I’m suddenly very alone. Except for my ex-boyfriend, squeezing my arm the way he used to when he was really angry for no damn reason.
“I asked you a question, Dani. What do you think you’re doing? Are you living with this guy? Did you move in with him?”
“Wh—who?” I gasp, eyes wide and heart racing a mile a minute. I don’t want him to hit me. Brock will not want a fiancée sporting a shiny black eye. I can’t lose this job. Not for this asshole. All I have to do is keep him calm while I walk backwards. Once I’m inside the building, I don’t think he would dare hit me.
“Don’t ask me who. You know who. I saw you coming out of this place this morning, and I followed you to the store, then back here again. You walked out with half of Bergdorf’s. What’s this guy giving you?” He leans in close.
I can make out the scent of whiskey on his breath. It’s just past noon, and he already smells like he’s half in the bag. His dark eyes burn with rage.
I know that look. “Are you stalking me?”
He gives me a nasty smile. “No, a true stalker doesn’t follow when they already know where you’re going. I was waiting here for you, because I knew you would come back here. I told you before, Dani. Every breath you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you.”
I freeze with shock. Is that what he’s really been doing these last two months? As I stare at him in shock, he moves his face closer and tries to give me an Eskimo kiss, by rubbing his nose against mine.
“You’re drunk,” I say, and quickly take a step back.
He steps forward.
If I can just keep him talking and stepping forward.
“You haven’t answered my question yet. Are you sleeping with him?”
“Let go of me!” I try to wrench my arm free, but it’s no use. He likes feeling stronger than somebody so much smaller than him. I learned that a long time ago. But in the tussle, I manage two backward steps.
“Are you?”
“I can sleep with whoever I want, Luke. We’re not together.”
“We are together,” he says fiercely, his hand tightening painfully on my arm. “You just wanted some breathing space, and I let you have it, but breathing space doesn’t include whoring around.”
This infuriates me. How many times do I have to repeat that we are freaking finished. I forget my intention to be placating. “I’m a slut, okay,” I shout. “So why don’t you find someone better?”
“You’re not a slut,” he hisses close to my face. “A slut doesn’t do it for money. You’re a fucking whore. You’re selling yourself to him, aren’t you?”
That cuts to the bone, and my face must have gone white, because I can almost feel my blood drain away. My voice shakes. “I don’t need your permission. I’ll sell myself to whoever I please. Now get your stinking hands off me.”
“Hey!” he shouts suddenly. Then his hand is gone from my arm as he’s stumbling and trying to steady himself. A feat he only manages several feet away from me because of the strength with which Brock had shoved him.
“How dare you put your hands on her!” he roars.
In a shocked daze, I stare at Brock. The change in him is unbelievable. I’m almost terrified of him. He looks ready to kill, like an animal just looking for an excuse. He wants Luke to give him an excuse. I can just tell.
He advances on him with both hands in tight fists, tendons showing on the sides of his neck and his nostrils flaring.
“Who are you?” Luke demands.
“I’m the guy you think is buying her, that’s who. I don’t need to ask who you are. You’re a filthy, small-minded little worm who doesn’t understand generosity or kindness. You’re less than nothing.” Brock spits on the ground just by Luke’s feet and sneers at him.
“And you’re the asshole I’m gonna lay out flat!” Luke’s swing is wide, too slow, and way too easy to block.
Brock does just that, throwing up his left arm while he takes a faster, more precise swing with his right. His fist makes contact with Luke’s jaw and sends him sprawling on his back.
I can’t help but let out a little scream, hands over my mouth as he hits the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Brock crouches over him, pulling him up by his jacket collar. His voice is low, menacing, but I can just make it out. “If you ever look at her again. If you ever follow her around. If you ever speak to her, call her, text her, or come within touching distance of her, I swear, I will have you killed and dumped somewhere you’ll never be found. I don’t think anybody would miss you.” Then he casually lets go of his jacket so Luke drops with a thud.
“Did you just threaten to kill me?” Luke gasps, clutching his jaw.
“Yes.” The deadly calm with which he said the word sends a shiver of fear down my spine. He really means it.
“I’ll report you to the police,” Luke threatens wildly.
“Do it,” Brock challenges. “I don’t give damn what you do, just as long as you stay away from her. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes,” Luke whispers. His eyes look like they’re filling with tears as he stares up into Brock’s face in shock. He’s never met a man like him before. His buddies are all boys like him who never grew up, or stopped tapping kegs. Brock is a real man. Powerful in more ways than one. He might not brag about it, but he’ll display it when it counts.
“Now fucking apologize to her.”
Luke looks up at me. His face is full of resentment, but he obeys Brock, “I’m sorry.”
I nod and rub my arm. This is all too surreal.
Brock wipes his palms on his slacks as he turns to face me. Concern replaces rage. “Are you all right?”
“Mm-hmm.” I’m still too overwhelmed to speak.
“Come on. Let’s go up.” He wraps a protective arm around my shoulders and we walk side-by-side into the building.
I don’t know what br
ought him outside, but I’m just so grateful he came. His arm is comforting. A reminder of how far he’s willing to go to protect me. He hit Luke for me. He hurt him for hurting me. And then threatened to kill him. Nobody has ever fought my battles for me before this.
I think I’m beginning to like Brock Garret. A lot.
Chapter 17
Dani
Brock told me not to bother getting too dressed up for dinner. Nothing like the dress Veronica picked out for the pre-wedding dinner, but something nice. We’re going to his favorite restaurant to spend a little time getting to know each other.
After that scene this afternoon, I’m not sure how to act around him.
After making sure I was okay, he suddenly took a step back from me, his body tense.
“What?” I asked him.
He shook his head and went back to work in the little study just off the living room.
Confused, I went up to my room and put my new clothes away.
A long soak in the tub, just like I’d promised myself I’d do if I ever had the chance, and a long nap made me feel like a new woman. I look at the bruise on my arm. It doesn’t look good. Which reminds me that I need to do something about my hands. They look like working hands. I’ll find a manicurist tomorrow.
I pick out the only woolen sheath dress from my new wardrobe. Everything we chose is better suited to Nevada weather than it is to November in New York. Low heels, thank goodness. I’m terrible in stilettos. A lot of fun I’d be in Vegas with a broken ankle. Although, I guess we could always say I did it while skiing or something equally glamorous. Do they ski in November? I have no idea.
“You’re gonna be fine,” I whisper to myself. Even though I still don’t have anything in writing and I have no idea what I’m really getting myself into.
I sit at the mirror and start to put on my makeup. What a treat, having enough counter space for it, my curling iron and hair dryer instead of balancing it all while trying not to burn my hands off. I could get used to this sort of life. Who wouldn’t?
He must have heard me coming down the stairs because he comes out of the living room and waits for me in the hallway.
The sight of him makes my heart skip a beat. He looks just as delectable as he did last night, this time wearing a black turtleneck and jacket. Black seems to be his signature color. It works well for him, setting off his eyes, which seem to glow like blue fire as he follows my progress down the stairs.
“You look…stunning.” He takes a slow visual tour of my body as he speaks.
The tingle of my skin tells me I like having his eyes on me. Instead of being embarrassed, I’m pleased at his approval. He thinks I look good. “You’re the one responsible for this,” I remind him. “I mean, you bought it.”
He shakes his head, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I’m not the one responsible. I don’t believe in a Higher Power, or I didn’t before I met you, but you’re enough to make me second-guess my belief system.”
I shake my head. “Sometimes, you’re just too much.”
“If only you knew.”
“Whatever.”
He offers his arm, and I slide mine through it before following him out the door. It feels surprisingly natural. Last night, his sense of humor shone through, but he was mainly commanding and overbearing. Tonight, he’s warm and lighthearted. Maybe Luke should show up every day and stick out his chin to get popped.
The thought of him kills my smile, which Brock picks up on right away. “What’s wrong? Are you thinking about him?”
I have to keep in mind how observant he is. I stare at him, amazed at how perceptive he is. “Are you psychic? We may as well get little things like this out of the way as soon as possible. It wouldn’t look right for your fiancée to not know a thing like that.”
“Not psychic. Just not blind.”
“You looked like you enjoyed hitting him. Did you?” I ask without looking at him.
“Honestly?”
I look into his eyes. “Of course.”
“Yes.” His jaw tightens, as does the line of his mouth. “I enjoyed it very much. I always enjoy being able to hurt anyone who would take advantage of their power over another. He’s a bully. Anyone with eyes can see it. The fact that it was you he was bullying made it even more enjoyable.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
I raise my eyebrows and look at him inquiringly.
Something flashes in his eyes then he says, “I might not know your favorite song, or the name of your childhood dog, or even what your favorite food is, but I know you. I knew you the moment you opened your eyes in my bed.”
“Really, now? I don’t know how good I feel about being so easy to read. Every woman wants to think of herself as being, I don’t know, mysterious and interesting.”
“I didn’t say you’re weren’t interesting.” The elevator doors open, and he throws his arm out across the doorway to keep them that way as I step out. “You’re extremely interesting. You’re also overworked, underpaid, ambitious, intelligent, definitely stronger than you’re aware of. And you very definitely take much more shit than you deserve.”
“Well,” I say, my breath exhaling out in a rush. “You’ve summed me up perfectly.” I’m not happy about the fact that I am such an open book to him. And I don’t like his smug tone.
“I forgot one or two things.” The limo is waiting for us, and he waves Tom off in favor of opening the door for me.
“What’s that?” I ask, waiting.
He grins. “I forgot temperamental. And gorgeous.”
I roll my eyes. “Funny how that doesn’t make me feel much better.”
I get in the car and he closes the door behind me.
Chapter 18
Dani
It’s a terrible habit of mine, the way I can’t keep myself from checking out the prices on the menu whenever I go out to eat. It’s just that I feel ridiculous ordering expensive food. A forty-dollar steak? I can buy one at the store for a quarter of the price and get three meals out of it.
Which is why the lack of prices on the menu is enough to make my skin crawl. It’s just a bunch of food. No prices. I glance at Brock over the top of it. The soft overhead lights of the restaurant fall on his face making his eyebrows appear straight and black and the sweep of his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheek. His skin looks golden. I want to reach out and touch him.
“I recommend the lobster,” he murmurs, before looking up and meeting my eyes.
For what seems like forever, our gazes catch and hold. The intensity of his cobalt gaze is incredible. It makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. Suddenly, there’s something familiar about him. Like a dream that breaks. I blink. This is crazy. I’ve never met him before in my life. I don’t run about in billionaire circles. I want to tear my gaze away but I can’t.
Then he smiles. A lazy sexy grin and my heart starts racing. “Unless you’re allergic to shellfish, of course. Are you allergic to anything, Dani?”
“Um…I can’t eat strawberries,” I croak. My voice sounds hoarse and thick. Why can’t I breathe properly?
He nods. “I’ll make a mental note of that.”
I drag my gaze away and focus it on the menu. I’m actually allergic to not knowing the price of what I’m ordering. It’s enough to make me break out into hives. There isn’t even any chicken on the menu. It’s normally a safe choice.
“What is it?” he murmurs. “You look…like you’re about to self-combust.”
I glance around at the tasteful décor and the low lighting, the beautiful people seated at every table. I lean forward. “Not knowing the prices of what I’m ordering is killing me.”
His eyebrows rise. Then he folds his menu and hands it to me. “Here have mine. It has prices.”
I take it from him and open it. My eyes almost pop out of my head. What? A hundred and twenty dollars for a lamb burger? I lift my gaze up to him, and he’s watching me with veiled eyes. I sw
allow hard.
Okay, time to come clean.
“Brock, I need to tell you something. I hope it doesn’t make you second-guess your decision to ask me to help you in Vegas, but I just have to honest with you.”
“Okay. Spit it out.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t feel like I belong here. I can’t help it. I figure if we’re here to get to know each other, you might as well know how insecure I am.”
“That is a problem,” he acknowledges with a slow nod.
“I understand if you think this was all a big mistake. I know how important it is for me to do a good job, but I’m not used to any of this and I can’t help feeling like I’m out of my league.”
He purses his lips, taking a deep breath.
Well, this is it. It was fun while it lasted. If I get nothing else out of the experience except the satisfaction of seeing Brock knock Luke on his butt, I’m okay with it.
Instead of breaking things off with me, however, he says, “Clearly, there a few things we need to work out between us if this has any hope of success.”
“All right. I’m all ears.” I place his menu off to the side and fold my hands in my lap.
One corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. “Whatever happened to you in the past is in the past, and I would prefer you not bring it up after this. I don’t mean the things we’re supposed to get to know about each other, of course. If there’s anything that worthless piece of shit did to you that I should be aware of before we get to Vegas, please tell me so, because I wouldn’t want to cause you any undue trauma.” He pauses. “Otherwise, all of that is in the past. It’s no longer part of your life. Whatever your hang-ups are with regards to money, or your self-worth, put them aside and don’t ever turn your attention to them again. I don’t care what anybody else thinks of you. To all intents and purposes, you are the woman I have chosen to marry and if anybody makes you feel small or tries to disrespect you, they will have me to contend with.”
The Promise Page 21
