by Jane Henry
“Hey, babe.”
“Zack,” I say in a whisper, so relieved the breath leaves me at once. I keep looking around the parking lot. “Someone moved your car.”
I can hear him freeze on the other end of the line, the energy between us crackling. “What are you talking about?”
I fill him in quickly, my voice shaking.
His voice is a razor’s edge. “Where are you now?”
“At work,” I whisper. “I didn’t park here. I know I didn’t.”
“Are you in the car?” He’s moving now. I can hear him say something to someone else and hear the sound of a door slamming.
“Yes.”
“Lock your doors and you do not move until I come and get you.”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, not even knowing what I’m saying. I slip automatically into submissive protocol hearing his command. Fear prickles down the back of my neck. I hear a scratching sound behind me and I whip my head around, convinced someone’s in the car, my breath caught in my throat. But no, I’m alone. No one’s here but me. Someone on a bike rides behind me. For God’s sake, it’s daylight out and I’m losing my mind.
“I’m coming to you immediately. I’ve got a friend on the corner, sending him to you before I get there.” His voice gentles. “Baby?”
“Yes?” I whisper, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. I hate this.
“You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you. You hear me?”
“Yes. Okay. Yes, sir.”
“Stay strong, baby. Do not get out of the car until I get there.”
“I will,” I whisper. I’m so cold. Nausea rolls in my stomach. A siren sounds nearby, and flashing lights come into the parking lot so quickly, I wonder how they got there. I’m in a sort of daze, waiting for Zack. Even though I see the flashing lights and hear the sound of sirens, I still jump and stifle a scream when someone bangs on my window. A uniformed officer waits on the other side. Zack’s friend.
I go to unlock my door but then freeze. He said not to leave the car until he came, not his friend. I roll the window down a crack.
“Yes?”
“Ms. Moore?”
“Yes.”
“Officer Williams sent me to you. Are you okay?”
I nod my head. “I am. But he told me not to get out of the car until he came himself.”
The officer nods. “There’s no need for you to get out of the car yet. Stay here while we investigate the surroundings.” The lights on his cruiser are flashing, and it sets me on edge. It’s congested and busy here in the city, and people are starting to take notice. I pick up my phone and call Chloe in the salon. I can see her from the doorway.
“Chloe?”
“Babe, what’s going on?” I can hear her snapping her gum and envision her standing with her hands on her hips.
“Someone moved my car on me. It wasn’t where I parked it before.”
“You sure you didn’t just forget?”
“Positive. Whoever did it also left a card on the seat for me.”
“Son of a bitch. I’ll beat them senseless, they lay a hand on you.”
I just nod mutely. I want Zack.
“You call your man?” She knows he’s an officer.
“He’s on his way, and he’s the one that sent the officers here. They’re investigating now.”
“Okay, honey. He’s a good one. Listen to him and take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will,” I whisper, and I hang up the phone.
I open my bag to take out a piece of gum, something to chew so I can calm my nerves, and nearly drop my bag. Cinnamon gum is in place of my usual peppermint.
I hate cinnamon. I never buy it.
Someone’s fucking with me, and it scares the shit out of me. I stifle a sob, shove it back in my bag, and slam my bag on my seat. It’s then that I see him unfolding from a cruiser, his dusty brown hair askew, eyes zoned in on where I sit. The other men look to him and they have a quick conversation. He sweeps his hand across the parking lot and the other officers practically salute him, jumping to do what he says. I want him for myself. I want him to come to me.
He makes his way over to the car, and still, I don’t move until he taps on the window. I unlock it and step out of the car. He reaches for me and pulls me close. “Baby. You ok?”
“Yes,” I saw with a shuddering breath. “They were in my bag, too. Someone’s touched my things.” He listens while I explain about the gum.
“And no money or credit cards gone?” I check quickly and shake my head.
“No.”
“Then this is someone who’s out to fuck with you, not someone looking to rob you.” He swears under his breath. “You’re coming home with me tonight, sweetheart. I’ll have someone go to your place tomorrow, and get what you need, okay?”
I nod, so relieved he’s here but so freaked out by what’s going on.
He has me get in a cruiser, takes the keys, and instructs his men dust his car for prints. I kinda think it’s a big undertaking for something seemingly small, but he can do it, so he does. We drive to his place and he’s quiet, his jaw tight, for most of the drive. “You saw nothing out of place?”
“No. I wish I had. I just get zoned in on what I’m doing.”
“It’s normal. You had no idea anything would be off. All good.” I feel so much calmer with him here. “They left you a note on your seat? Then it’s someone who knows you or at least follows you on social media or something.” He’s piecing things together, but not drawing any conclusions.
“Yeah.”
“Yes. Have you talked to your mom or dad?”
“No, but why would that change anything?”
He doesn’t respond at first. “Just wondering.”
“Zack, are you implying that they are somehow involved in this? C’mon.”
His tone is curt when he interrupts me. “I’m not implying anything. I’m asking all the questions, because that’s my job.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “And it’s also my job to help you.”
I’m immediately chastened. “Okay, yeah. I get it. Someone called me, too, but the caller ID didn’t show a name, and they didn’t say anything.”
He growls low.
“I need to call Diana,” I whisper. “I’m supposed to have a dress fitting tonight.”
“Not tonight you don’t.”
“Zack…”
“Beatrice, do not push me right now. I’m pissed this happened, I want the fucker who’s screwing around with you behind bars, and I’m not gonna let you outta my sight until that happens.”
Just. Great.
“Then come with me to the dress shop. I mean… you are the best man. And you don’t want me going back to the goth line, do you?”
He huffs out a breath. “Fine.”
I try to lighten the situation. “Not sure it’s your cup of tea, honey, but you might find the shop is exactly what you needed. You know, try on a few tuxes or something? Feel like a million bucks?’”
He snorts. “Yeah, right.”
He gets a call and takes it, as I punch in the dress shop address on the GPS and as the phone lights up with a map, he begins to drive. “No one suspicious came your way?”
“Not that I noticed, no.” We’re in NYC. There are people from every eclectic walk of life here, and I have long since stopped paying attention to anyone suspicious. Maybe a bad habit.
“Any other strange phone calls?”
“Nope.” I look out the window. It unsettles me that this happened after I went to my parents’ house. Surely no one I knew would be stalking me like this? Even Judson in all his jerk face glory wouldn’t pull this shit.
We circle the building until we find metered parking, neither of us speaking. Zack parks the car, opens the door for me and I exit, when my phone rings. I look at the ringer and don’t recognize the number. Zack freezes, eyes on me.
“You know the caller?”
I shake my head.
He clenches his jaw. “Let it go to voicema
il.”
I do as he says and watch as the voicemail notification comes up on my phone.
“Now check it.” I love that he protects me, but I don’t like being with this terse, angry Zack.
I put the phone up to my ear. I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t the voice I heard next.
“Bea. It’s me. Carter. Called because the rumor mill says you’re engaged. I just wanted to say congratulations. I’m back in the city. Maybe we can meet up sometime? I’ll call you again.”
I nearly drop the phone. I haven’t heard from him in so long. Carter, my foster brother, the boy I grew up with when I was a teen, who jumped so far off the rails when he was in high school, he stole everything he could from my parents and took off. We didn’t hear from him for years, and my parents don’t acknowledge they ever had anything to do with him. But he was like a brother to me.
I hang up my phone in a daze and stare at it.
“Who was that?” Zack asks.
For some reason, I don’t want to tell him. Not here, not now, when we have only minutes to talk privately and I can’t really tell him much of anything. I don’t want to talk about it, so I shrug. “Just an old friend.” He gives me a probing look but then his phone rings and catches his attention.
The doors to the elevator open, and I follow Zack into the hallway, shaken. I don’t want to tell him it was Carter on the phone, as he’ll ask questions and I’m not up for discussing anything right now. Instead, I look around me at the interior. This place is gorgeous, and I could take in every detail for days. Plush, carpeted floors, in deep hues of burgundy and gold, vibrant wall art, light strings of instrumental classical music playing in the background. The door to the glass elevator closes, and I look at the buttons that shine like diamonds in the light.
His phone is up to his ear. “Thanks, man. Yeah. Okay, later.” He looks quickly to me, his voice still tight. “Got the prints, now sending to see if we can identify anyone.”
“How long does that take?”
“Two to three days.”
“What?”
He raises a brow as the elevator swoops upward. “Standard procedure, babe. Just the way things go. Now be a good girl, try on your dress, do whatever dress shit you need to do, and we’re out of here.”
I know it isn’t his fault, but I’m pissed at pretty much everything. I huff out a breath. “Fine.”
I push past him as the doors to the elevator open, but as I march away I feel strong fingers grasp my wrist. The hall is lined with doorways. He pulls me into an empty one. “Beatrice, enough.”
I try to pull my wrist away, but his grip is too firm.
I’m angry at everyone, and everything. Whoever moved the damn car and scared me shitless, my brother for deciding he’d call me out of nowhere, Zack for not calling my bluff on the engagement, and that doesn’t even make sense to be mad at him. It isn’t his job to handle my shit. Still, I think I worry a little that it’s because he doesn’t want it to be a fake. We’ve been “sorta dating” for months now, and he wants more, but do I? He’s been hounding me to take our relationship up a step, to move beyond the casual thing we have, and I’ve resisted so hard. Why?
“Just let me go, Zack.” My voice is tight and wavering, and I’m not sure if I mean for him to let go of my wrist or let me go. Leave me alone. Let me fend for myself.
I don’t know what I want anymore.
“No. You calm the hell down and listen to me.” I look into his eyes, and some of my anger melts a little. The man has dominated me so many times I don’t remember, spanked my ass and tied me up and had his way with me. Hell, I respond without thought to his fingers snapping. So when he gets bossy on me, my body responds without my consent. The anger in me quiets because I know what happens if I push him. He’s my dom. He doesn’t care where we are. If I don’t behave, he’ll find a way to make sure I do.
And fuck if I don’t need exactly that.
Exactly that.
I stare at him, my chin quivering. Leaning in, he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and I can’t look away. His voice rumbles over me, commanding every part of me to attention. “We’re here because you promised your friend you’d show. I’m with you, and Tobias is here. Between the two of us, you’re safe right now. I’m not here because I want to be.” He inhales, his broad shoulders straightening, then lets out a quivering breath, his anger tightly controlled. “If I had my way, you’d be locked up where no one could even fucking breathe the same air you do.”
My heartbeat quickens.
He continues. “The last thing I need from you now, little girl, is a bratty attitude. You give me shit, and you’re getting your ass spanked. Am I clear?”
Little girl from him is rare. He’s like seven years older than I am, but still, when he says it, it makes me feel little. Chastened. And I know I’m being a bitch.
I swallow, try to look away, but a sharp tug on my chin brings my eyes back to his. He leans in closer, one knee between mine, pinning me in place and hell if I don’t feel my panties dampen. Fuck my goddamned body. The grip on my chin tightens.
“Answer, me,” he says in warning, his voice at my ear. He’ll find a way—elevator, fitting room, backseat of his car—and I’ll answer for the way I’m responding if I don’t get my shit together. And a part of me wonders if I don’t need it, a good session over his knee to help me get rid of this anger and fear simmering inside me.
But not now. Not this way. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nod. And his eyes soften then. He knows that this is taking a lot of effort from me and fuck it is. Submitting to him is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. How easy would it be for me to tell him to fuck off? To smack my hand against the hard plane of his chest? It’s a gazillion times harder to keep my temper in check and deal. I take a shuddering breath.
“Yes, sir.”
He leans in, and I catch a glimpse of the tattoo that runs along his neck and I know what it leads to, a full back tat with black wings that span his shoulders. I always thought it was hot, so badass. I’ve always just made assumptions about that tat, but now, I need to know more. Why does he have it? Why hasn’t he ever told me the meaning? Why haven’t I been willing to take things further so that he’ll let me know more? Right then, in the moment between fear and obedience, I need more from him.
My phone buzzes. He nods, giving me permission to answer it and for a brief moment my temper flares but I tamp it down again. I can do this. I look at my phone, wondering with a quick slam of my heart against my rib cage that it could be my brother again. But when I look at the screen, I see it’s Diana. I show Zack. He raises a brow, and I answer.
“Yeah?”
“Honey, you okay?”
I let out a breath. “I’m actually here, and I even managed to wrangle Zack with me.”
I can practically hear her smiling on the phone. “Ha! Sounds good. We’re over by the tiaras.”
“See you, honey.” I shut off my phone and look to Zack.
“They’re by the tiaras,” I whisper. When his brows furrow in consternation, I huff out a breath. “Do you know what a tiara is?”
He furrows his brow. “Like a crown. Why do you need a princess thing for a wedding?”
And that makes me giggle. “It’s a type of crown, yes. Worn for special occasions.”
“Why?” He looks genuinely baffled. I try not to roll my eyes, as he hates that.
“Come on in, and I’ll show you,” I say with a smile. He takes my hand, and I feel lighter for a moment. Happier. His hand is warm and reassuring.
We enter the shop, and I glance around, looking for accessories. I see the sparkle of glittery tiaras in one corner and gently pull his hand, leading him there. Diana waves her hand to me, and I see Tobias beside her, the same pained expression on his face that Zack has. Diana’s son, Chad, sits on a chair next to them. He looks up when we come in and I wave to him. He waves, smiles, then looks back down at the book in his hand
s. We reach them and the guys greet each other with chin lifts. Diana’s eyes twinkle, and she holds a gorgeous arrangement of roses in her hand.
“Wow, those are beautiful,” I say.
She smiles. “They’re for you.” She looks coyly at Zack. “Trying to out-do Tobias in the romance department, huh?”
But Zack’s face is blank. “I didn’t send her flowers. What the hell are you talking about?”
Diana’s face pales, and Tobias tenses. My stomach suddenly clenches. “Give me the flowers,” Zack orders. He reads the tag, and his face is a mask of fury. “Where the hell did these come from?”
Diana shakes her head. “I—I don’t know. The salesperson said they were for my party and it’s just me and Beatrice, so I looked at the card and didn’t ask questions.”
Cold washes over me. I feel numb. Exposed. Naked.
Terrified.
I reach for the card and Zack lets me read it as he’s already dialing someone on his phone.
To Beatrice, with love.
No signature.
I close my eyes. This isn’t happening.
Zack shuts off his phone and shoves it in his pocket, then looks at me. “You’ll try on the dress with me in the fucking fitting room with you. You do whatever you’ve gotta do, then I ask questions. Then we go home.”
Chapter 10
Thankfully, Tobias sits next to me in the straight-back, padded chairs they have outside the ladies’ fitting rooms because I don’t wanna sit here looking at glitter and heels, I want to slam the punching bag at the gym until my muscles ache with pain and sweat blurs my vision. I want to wrap Beatrice up in my arms, carry her home, and then worship every inch of her skin that fucking belongs to me. I watched over her as she got changed then took my place out here.
But anger doesn’t serve me. Tobias knows this, and he’s my friend so he’s gonna get what’s eating me up without dealing with shit like lengthy conversations.
“What the fuck is going on?” he says under his breath as I watch Beatrice stand on a little pedestal thing and an older woman with huge, round glasses and little metal pins sticking out of her mouth, wraps a measuring tape around her.
