He smiles. “You sure about that?” He pulls at my hair. “Not five minutes ago you were screaming my name, begging for me.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to put a collar around my neck and tell me what to do.”
His eyes flash and I realize what I said. He’s probably picturing me with a collar in bed, spread out before him…
“Let me rephrase. I own your moans, your sweet lips, and your tight little pussy. As long as I’m here, no other man is going to touch you.”
Noah’s watch dings again and he glances at it before returning his attention to me. “Run along now, Sayer. Jenkins will meet you by my car to take you home.”
Part of me wants to demand he take me home. But I don’t utter a word.
He’s already dismissed me with those parting words, slipping his phone out of his jacket. Fingers scrolling over the screen.
I turn away with, Night, dead on my lips.
He’s already walking away.
And he doesn’t look back.
Not once.
He’s long gone as I get in the car with the feeling of someone’s eyes attached to me, making the hair stand on the base of my neck.
But when I look over my shoulder, no one’s there.
My night off from Noah comes the next night.
I’m walking across campus when I get a text telling me something important came up and we won’t be going out tonight.
Annoyed, I clutched my phone as I fought the urge to throw it at a tree.
Of course. When I want a night off for physical exhaustion, Noah says no. But now when it’s on his terms, it’s okay.
I’m tired of it always being on his terms.
Pan greets me at the door as I walk into my apartment, returning home from one of the worst days of my life. And for once it has nothing to do with Noah.
Oh no.
My day was doomed from the start.
It started when my alarm didn’t wake me up and I slept through my first class, which according to one of the girls I befriended was a big mistake. There was a surprise test.
So, I failed it by not being there.
Then, when I finally got to school, I didn’t realize I was wearing two different boots until Brin pointed it out as we were leaving lunch.
Each foot had a shoe different in color and style. One was over the knee while the other came to my mid-calf. I don’t know how it happened, how I got all the way to campus without noticing, but yeah, I did that.
And because the fates wouldn’t leave me to missing a test and wearing two different shoes, I also spilled my ice coffee in my last class. Liquid went all over me and my notebook and the floor and the people on either side of me.
The professors had to stop the lecture to see why the guy next to me jumped up cursing. Class was put on pause while I rushed to clean it, using my cardigan to soak up most of it.
Never have I been so mortified.
With my apartment door firmly shut behind me, hiding me from the god-awfulness that has been today, I strip off my coat and sweaters before dropping my keys in the bowl.
Pan weaves between my legs, purring as I bend down to scratch under his chin. But he darts away when I try to pick him up.
Shaking my head, I take off my mismatched boots and slip out of my shirt, leaving me in only my skirt, tights, and see-through lace bra.
Wanting to get the day off me, I can’t get out of my clothes fast enough.
I head into the kitchen to brew some tea—no more coffee for me today—unrolling my tights when I get there. These clothes are bad juju.
As I’m placing the kettle on the burner, I notice the clock on the stove blinks with the wrong time. Did we lose power today?
But the power is on, confirmed by the lit entryway light. I flip the switch in the kitchen, and it comes on too.
I frown, checking over my shoulder to see if the clock by the sink is blinking too, but it’s not.
Shrugging it off as nothing more than a power glitch, I reset the time on the stove.
As I wait for the kettle to whistle, I twist my hair into a bun and my thoughts, naturally, run wild with Noah.
He’s the drug and I’m the addict. Not caring about how bad he might be for me, I want him anyway.
I’ve fought so hard to stay away, to keep myself at a distance, knowing that one little taste could wreck me.
And it did.
Now I want more.
Ever since I was fourteen and he crashed into my life, he’s called to me, my curiosity. A giant question mark I want to find the answer to. Who is Noah behind the distant persona he shows the world?
At school, no one could tell him no. In life, he didn’t ask for permission before taking.
His world has no limit, a fact he likes to test all the time.
I envied Noah for the freedom he had.
It’s been ten years and I’m still trying to find that kind of freedom.
After the kettle whistles and I’ve made my tea, I head into my bedroom to put on something comfy.
Pan follows close behind.
I’ll never live with the kind of freedom Noah does, because I believe in rules, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find reckless abandon in another way.
A naked way.
Naked with Noah.
If he can ignite me with a single look, and unravel me with his fingers, imagine what he can do with his entire body.
I must sound crazy, like I’ve lost my mind—but have I?
Maybe I found it instead.
Noah’s alpha to the asshole level, but unlike the guys from prep school that my parents deemed worthy of dating and the frat boys in college, he hasn’t tried to make me do anything I haven’t wanted.
The girl I want to be isn’t afraid or ashamed of what she wants. And I want Noah.
Around me, on top of me, exploring and fucking me.
I want it all.
Getting cozy in my penguin onesie, I’m about to crawl into bed when Pan meows, head butting my thigh.
Hungry.
“All right, all right,” I say after he does the same to my chin. “C’mon, tubs, let’s go.”
He practically trips me going to the kitchen.
I’m placing the bowl of food down when I spy something on my bookshelf.
A vase of flowers grab my attention.
Flowers that weren’t there when I left this morning…
An intense ring pierces my ears and my stomach hollows out. I can’t tear my gaze from the bookshelf across the room.
The bowl falls from my grip, crashing to the floor.
I barely hear it.
Black roses sit in front of the picture of me and Pan. Attached to the flowers is a red envelope with my name lettered across.
With shaky hands and unsteady feet, I move across the room until my fingers brush against the envelope.
I hiss, a thorn pricking my finger in the process. Drops of blood drip onto the envelope, which feels heavier than it should in my hand.
Part of me wants to believe it’s from Noah, but my gut knows it’s not.
My breath is uneven as I exam the sealed envelope.
Slowly, I open it.
A letter falls out.
And so do dozens of pictures.
They all scatter at my feet.
Bending down with a pounding heart, I pick one up. Dropping it immediately.
I can feel my pulse in my neck as I unfold the letter and read it.
Sayer, Sayer, Darling Sayer.
Why do you keep doing this?
You know he won’t take care of you. Not like the way you want. They won’t protect you. They’re only after her. Once they get her, you’ll be kicked to the curb.
He’s using you. It disgusts me how blindly you let him embrace you. Let him touch you.
I thought you were different.
Keep going down this road, Darling Sayer, and you’ll force my hand to step in before I’m ready.
But let it be known, I’m coming
for you.
X
A sharp pain pierces my chest as my knees give out and I slide to the floor.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Who? Who’s coming for me?
Why did they take these pictures that are scattered around me?
Pictures of me.
Pictures of Noah.
Pictures of me and Noah.
Some are from our first nights out together while others are from two nights ago, of us in Artwell Alley.
Of us inside the art gallery.
Numbly, I trace the edges of the photo that captures Noah’s fingers inside me. This one is grainier than the others, like it was taken from a distorted lens.
Or…
Oh God.
There was a window in the gallery. A small one, high up.
I keep flipping through the photos, unable to stop, wondering why, feeling like I’m going to throw up.
Why me?
Because of my sister? Because of Noah?
Both?
Questions assault me and I have no way of knowing the answer, only a small truth.
Right now it doesn’t matter who took them. What matters is whoever did got into my apartment while I was gone.
My apartment feels tainted now.
Scrambling to my feet, I have to get out of here. I can’t stay. I need to leave.
Now.
Grabbing my coat and my cat, I run out the door to hail a cab to Noah’s club. It’s closer than his casino.
I don’t even know where he lives.
I suck in a pained breath, my ribs tight.
The club. I can go to Heathen’s Hell.
I don’t even know if he’s going to be there, but I don’t know where else to go. I have nowhere else to go.
My breathing doesn’t return to normal until my apartment is long out of sight, and even then, my chest remains tight.
He’s not here.
At least, according to the bartender I asked.
And I’m not saying he’s lying, I just think he thought I was deranged.
I feel deranged.
I mean, I’m standing in a packed club wearing a penguin onesie and have a cat clutched to my chest after finding a stack of pictures and a cryptic letter in my apartment. If my eyes aren’t a little crazy, I’d be concerned for my state of mind.
And now that I know Noah’s not here, I don’t know what I should do. Lost with where I could go.
Not back to my apartment, that’s for sure. My skin still crawls with the knowledge of a stranger taking photos of me, following me around. Going inside my apartment.
I can’t go home. I don’t feel safe there.
I could’ve gone to Brin’s, but I don’t want this near her. Don’t want to worry her.
The only other place I could think of is my parents’ house. They’re still in Europe so it wouldn’t be too bad, except I hate it there. It’s cold, detached. More like a museum. A house instead of a home.
But I can’t stay on the floor. People keep bumping into and jostling me. Making me want to scream.
It’s too much.
All too much.
This. Here. Now.
I feel myself shutting down like I did when my granddad passed, slipping deep inside myself where emotions are hard to reach. They get stowed away to deal with later.
Right now, I need a plan.
And I need one fast.
Pan hates our new setting, his claws cut into my skin like little hooks.
“I know, baby,” I whisper into his fur. He doesn’t relax.
“Lady.” The bartender who told me Noah wasn’t here, comes back over. Leaning across the bar he snaps, “You can’t stay here with that thing.” He points an angry finger at Pan.
I glare, not caring for his tone. But I don’t have the energy to argue. I don’t even have the energy to stand. So I nod, veering away from the bar and go in search of new refuge.
I move about two steps when the bartender with salt and pepper hair appears. “Sayer.”
I feel myself looking at him, but I’m not really seeing him. Not really focusing on anything.
“It’s me, Hotch.” Is that what his name is? “What’re you doing here? Are you okay?”
“Looking for Noah,” I feel myself say, not feeling my lips move.
“He’s not here.”
“I know.”
Pan squirms in my arms. The music has gotten louder, the crowd rowdier. Hotch watches me retreat even more into myself and his eyes narrow when I jump at the feel of his fingers brushing my arm. “C’mon,” he says gently. “I know where you can wait.”
He leads me off the floor and down a hallway until we get to a dark wooden door. Slowly, he opens it and motions for me to go in.
Stepping into the room, I turn on the light and am greeted with the inner sanctum of Noah Kincaid.
I hear the door start to close and I whirl around. “Wait, this is Noah’s office.”
Hotch nods his head. “You can wait in here until you’re feeling better.”
“Isn’t Noah going to care that I’m in here?”
“Do you care?” He raises a brow.
“No. Not really.”
He nods. “You’re safe here, Sayer.”
I startle, not knowing if he realizes how much his words actually mean to me but by the look I catch on his face as he clicks the door shut, I’d say he does. I could cry. But I don’t. Instead, I take in Noah’s office.
His office is actually how I pictured it. Dark cherry hardwood floors that match the bookshelf walls, a high chandelier hangs from the ceiling.
In the middle of the room sits a large, wooden desk with carvings etched into the paneling of it.
Pan cries and I set him down on it.
He must feel as tired as I do because he collapses as soon as my hands leave him. His eyes closing.
Not sure if my eyes will ever want to close again, I take everything in.
Dominant. Intimidating.
Noah’s office has an air of authority mixed with smoke.
It’s quiet in here. Too quiet. And as it turns out the quiet is worse than the noise on the floor.
I take a seat in Noah’s chair. My fingers anxiously tapping on the wood.
I don’t know where else to go. Coming here felt right, but I had been banking on Noah actually being here. I know he said he had to take care of something, but I had hoped it would be over by now. I mean, it’s quickly approaching ten o’clock.
I could text him to see where he is, but something holds me back. Like I don’t want to admit I need his help.
Biting my lip, I take in how impersonal this office feels. He spends half his time here and yet, it looks like a showroom set up.
I spin around in the chair, wondering if there’s anything in here that would give me a little insight as to who the real Noah Kincaid is.
But before I can so much as open one door, I hear the sound of voices in the hall.
They’re muffled, but I’m able to make out deep timbre of Noah’s voice and a small, softer voice of a woman.
I know Hotch said I could wait in here, but I don’t want to have to explain to Noah what happened with another person present.
My limbs lock up as I quickly and quietly, run to shut the light off. With my phone light, I make my way back to the desk, grabbing Pan just as the door starts to open.
Swiftly, I dart under the desk, thanking the stars that it’s so large. There’s enough space under here for me to hide comfortably.
My cat’s paw hits my chin. Meeting his annoyed eyes, I press a kiss to the top of his head. Please don’t make any noise, Pan.
Normally, he’s a quiet cat, communicating in passive-aggressive glares, but with the way today is going Pan could choose now to use his voice.
I’m frozen as footsteps come closer to where I hide, going as far as to hold my breath every few seconds.
Becoming as still and quiet as I can.
My grand
dad used to say that Harlow and I had opposite talents. While hers were on the flamboyant side, according to him, mine were more reserved. I made the perfect fly on the wall.
“Wasn’t expecting you, Bridget.” Noah’s voice is a shot of whiskey, fire warming my cold, numb body.
My eyes close only to snap back open.
Right above me, the desk creaks from someone putting weight on it. My eyes widen. Noah must be leaning against the front. He sounds right on top of me.
“Sorry, there was a change of plans,” a woman with an accent says. It’s not quite British but somewhere in that region if I were to guess. “Seamus was getting a little antsy.”
I glare at nothing, not liking that her voice gets closer with each word.
Jealousy is a fickle bitch whose claws I don’t appreciate digging into me at the sound of the other woman’s voice, only for the claws to turn on me for feeling like this in the first place.
“I don’t do surprises.” It shouldn’t please me as much as it does that Noah sounds pissed off. “And you can go tell Seamus that this isn’t a bank, I don’t do loans or payments. He either gives me the money in full or every day he doesn’t, I tack on another five grand.”
Never has he taken that kind of tone with me.
A piece of me swells with triumph. Ha.
Never have I felt so petty as I smile in satisfaction.
“Noah—”
“Bridget,” he shoots back. “I owe you shit until Seamus pays me back, so get the fuck out of my office.”
It’s quiet in the room, but even from under the desk I can feel the tension.
Noah’s probably wearing his neutral face. It makes people more uncomfortable. Completely unreadable.
After a few tense moments of silence, I hear a soft sigh and one set of feet walking toward the door. Before the door shuts, Bridget says, “He’s not going to like you dismissing me.”
“And I don’t like that he thinks he can dick me around. He wants a meeting? He can come to me himself.”
Quietly, the door shuts.
Leaving me alone with Noah.
Seven steps.
That’s all it takes for his long strides to go from the door to his desk.
Each step feels like a nail being hammered into my chest.
It’s one thing to come into Noah’s office when I didn’t think he was here, to find some kind of solace and security after finding out what I thought had been stripped away, but it’s another for Noah finding me uninvited here.
Under the Lies Page 11
