Chapter 13
Alex
One look at the gold-framed mirror is enough to tell me freshening up is going to take some time. Still, my emotions are a bigger mess, and they will be even harder to clear out.
Why did I stay for dinner?
Because you want to.
But why?
Because he saved you from that guy and cared about how you felt. Because he doesn’t mind losing to you. Maybe he even enjoys it. Because you’re addicted to the little sounds that he makes when he’s turned on and the praise that he gives you.
Two sides of my subconscious battle for dominance. With a sigh, I grab a paper towel to clean the black smudges under my eyes. The dry paper towel does nothing, so I turn the faucet—also gold—and dab it with some water.
Better. Now I just need to fix my lipstick.
I look around to find my purse and realize it’s not here. Taking a step back into the room, I say, “Hey, have you seen my…”
I stop in my tracks. My trusted gun dangles from Leon’s pinky, his jaw set in stone, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Why are you carrying a gun? Specifically, why are you carrying a gun in my casino, where it’s strictly prohibited?” His voice is level, but it makes me shudder.
“You went through my bag?” My voice breaks as tears start forming in my eyes. I was beginning to trust him.
Now I’ll lose him.
“My phone was underneath it. I picked it up, and it fell open.” He dangles the gun again. “Answer the question.”
My vision is blurry as a weight lands on my chest. It’s done. I can’t tell him why I carry a gun, and he deserves more than for me to lie to him. “Excuse me,” I say, sidestepping him and taking my purse.
His fingers wrap around my upper arm, sending shivers down my body. “Alex, please.”
The sound of his pleading voice is my breaking point.
The man is typically larger than life, power pouring out of him.
But there’s currently desperation in his dark eyes, as if he needs me to say something.
Anything to make this better. It doesn’t make sense.
We’ve just been each other’s distractions for the last couple of weeks.
We barely held a normal conversation. Knowing how desperate for distraction he is only makes me relate to him more.
Maybe I can share something. A small, unidentifiable part. I close my lids to gather myself. “It’s for protection. I carry that gun to protect myself. There’s plenty of security here, but I need it to get here and make it back home after.”
“What are you protecting yourself from?”
“Men,” I huff. “I had some bad experiences before, and even if it was a long time ago, leaving the house without the gun would send me into a spiral.”
“Someone hurt you.” It’s not a question, but more of a statement.
I bow my head, pushing the tears down my cheeks.
“Who was it?” There’s a frosty edge to his tone.
“An ex.”
His expression changes.
“Don’t worry, I got away.” I shoot him a comforting smile, though it’s hardly the full truth. I did get away, but I’m now forced to be on the run for the rest of my life, so he doesn’t find me.
The corners of his eyes turn downward.
“I’m sorry for breaking your rules. I know it’s important for you to keep your customers safe.”
“You did what you had to do.” He reaches his palm out, handing me the gun back.
With shaky fingers, I take the weapon and slide it into my bag. It’s then I realize how frantic my heartbeat had been while I was unprotected.
But now, with my gun back and some truth out, I feel a thousand pounds lighter.
I kept things quiet for so long that they’ve festered inside of me, spreading through my bloodstream.
Speaking about it poked a hole in my flesh, letting some of the poison out.
I inhale deeply to stop my tears only to find Leon looking at me with all the care in the world.
“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot.” He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m a wealthy man and sometimes, it can be dangerous. Security has to be at the top of my priorities.”
Fuck, I haven’t even thought about that. I’m this random woman who started coming into his casino with a gun, and got close to him. No wonder he wanted answers.
A knock breaks through the emotional tension between us. “That’s okay. I should go.” I point a thumb at the door.
“Stay. Let’s have dinner and forget all about this.”
Even though the flutter in my chest screams at me to get away, because getting close can only mean danger, my feet are rooted to the spot.
He opens the door to roll the food cart inside and gestures at the couch.
My feet unglue from the floor and make their way to the couch, showing their stance loud and clear. My body doesn’t want to leave him.
Leon carefully serves up all the food on the coffee table, and my stomach rumbles.
The stress must have starved me. His shirt still fully unbuttoned, he takes his jacket off and places it over the back of the chair.
My gaze darts to the tattooed planes of his chest, and a different kind of hunger stirs within me.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, staring at my shoes, and he’s right; my feet are killing me.
I slip the heels off, reveling in the flat ground below me.
Flexing my toes a few times, I get comfortable on the floor.
He shoots me a questioning look before joining in.
With the height of the coffee table, it just makes sense for us to be on the floor, but it’s still weird to see this huge, powerful man sitting on the floor of his office.
The knife slices through the steak as if slicing through butter, and saliva pools in my mouth. It’s soft, juicy and the flavor fires my taste buds as soon as it reaches them. I let out a small moan, closing my eyes, only to find him staring at me with a tip of his lips.
“Good?” he asks.
“Amazing.” I lick my lips to savor every drop of the taste.
With a smile and a small shake of his head, he cuts into his own food.
We continue eating in silence, which isn’t new, but this gentle, comfortable silence is one I’m certainly not familiar with.
With my ex, I was used to silence acting as the calm before the storm.
It was dangerous. It hovered over me like a dense cloud, waiting to pour.
In a way, silence was worse than screaming.
Anticipation used to gnaw at me from the inside.
My heart would race, hoping to avoid the inevitable.
But no, he used silence as a weapon, wielding it to create fear, and he succeeded in doing it.
My chewing slows, the steak turning sour with my memories. I guess Leon notices the empty stare and the slump of my shoulders, and he asks, “Something wrong? I can order you a new one.” He looks at me with warmth in his dark eyes, the intense gaze wrapping itself tightly around my chest.
“Just got lost in my thoughts.”
A beat passes. “It’s not the steak then?”
A chuckle escapes me. While I’m relieved to have told him a tiny part of my story, I’m grateful he changed the subject.
I know he must be dying to ask more — he’s used to being in control — but I appreciate him respecting my pace.
“Definitely not the steak. Matter of fact, this is the second-best steak I’ve ever eaten.
” Talking about my trauma feels impossible, but I can still share some of my life.
“Second best, you say? I guess I’m firing my chef.” He smirks and reaches for his phone.
My hand wraps around his fist, chuckling. “No firing on my behalf.”
He shoots me a sheepish look, dropping his fork onto the plate. “Too late.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He pats a napkin over his mouth.
“No, no. You’re not getting off that easily.” I wave my finger at him. “What did you mean by that?”
His tongue darts out to the corner of his mouth. “I might have fired a surveillance officer.”
My eyes widen. “What does that have to do with me?”
“He might have spent his working hours zooming in on the feeds that captured you.”
“Isn’t that the same thing you’re doing?”
“Irrelevant.”
I scoff. “Hardly irrelevant, since I don’t want people losing their jobs because of me.”
“He lost his job because of his actions, not you.”
“For doing the same thing you do day after day.” The pitch of my voice rises.
The calm expression drops from his face, replaced by the fire in his eyes.
Within a second, his face is an inch away from mine, his fingers holding my chin.
“I think you’re forgetting who makes the rules here, sweetheart.
” His voice is so low that I feel the vibrations in my nipples.
“I’m the boss. I decide which rules can be bent,” his gaze darts to my purse, “and which can’t.
And this, drooling over the feed while imagining you naked, is not a rule I’m willing to bend. ”
“Y-you do the same,” I say in a breathy voice.
“You gave me the privilege of seeing this perfect body naked. Not my fault it’s an image I can’t get out of my mind.
Not my fault I can’t look at a poker table without getting hard because it reminds me of you.
” His lips brush over mine, and I release a soft sigh.
He turns my chin to face his desk, which has a mess of papers strewn around it.
“You see this? This isn’t me. My type A personality can’t handle clutter or unfinished business.
But you have distracted me to the point of not being able to focus. ”
His lips land on my neck, trailing down to my collarbone, and I let out a whimper. “I-I’m sorry,” I breathe out.
“I’m not.” His words are a warning before his lips crash onto mine.