Chapter 6 #2
"Liar." He whispered something in his tongue.
To her relief, their food came over, forcing him to let go of her hand.
Taking a deep careful breath, she picked up her spoon.
Aware that he was staring at her, she concentrated on the steam coming up from the bowl as if it was the most important thing in the world and held the answer to world peace.
"She hurt you." His deep voice had her lifting her head and what she saw in his expression had her going still.
"I wanted to kill her for putting her hands on you.
I've never hit a woman, the practice of it is distasteful to me, but I wanted to strangle her.
" He lifted a hand to brush across her bruises gently.
His action belied the iciness on his face. "If that security had not intervened--"
"They would have hauled you off to jail." She had to swallow the lump in her throat and even so, she could barely speak.
"Would they have?" he was still brushing his knuckles over the bruises. "No one touches you. No one."
"I'm not yours--"
"You will be." Dropping his hand, he nodded at her bowl. "Eat."
Letting out her pent-up breath, she glared at him. "I'm not one of your servants."
"No," he agreed. "You're just a woman who does not take care of herself. I will see to it that you do."
His arrogance took her breath away. Instead of arguing, she decided to ignore him. Dipping her spoon into the thick soup, she started eating and realized how hungry she was.
"What's going to happen to the child?"
She considered not answering, but the look on his face caught her attention. He was not just asking out of morbid curiosity.
"I cannot discuss the case with you."
When he simply stared at her patiently and waited, she sighed. "The uncle is the mother's brother and is steady. He has a job as a mechanic and wants to take care of his nephew."
"This apartment, is it convenient?"
"As far as I know." She scooped up vegetables and chewed. "There will be social workers involved, and I'll be checking in from time to time. Simon is too young to have a job, or I would have been bothering your grandparents again."
"I want to contribute."
She gave him a startled look. "How?"
He shrugged. "I happen to have quite a bit of money."
Her expression hardened. "So, like most rich people, you want to throw money at the problem and consider it solved."
He merely raised a brow, not in the least bit offended by her tone. "That would be a start wouldn't it? The child will need the basics, like clothing and food and I'm sure the uncle would appreciate all the help he can get." He gestured towards her with his spoon. "You happen to have money too."
"I don't--"
"If I'm not mistaken, the stones in your lobes are diamonds and emeralds. The suit you have on is tailor-made and expensive. The cottage, we will call it that for now, has a lovely structure and sits on a very nice parcel of land." His smug smile made her want to hit him.
"I don't have the kind of money you do."
"Who does?" he shrugged elegantly. "The point is, I want to help, and you should not be allowing your pride or distrust to stand in the way of making things better for the boy."
Words failed her and she resumed eating.
"I want to see you."
"You're seeing me now."
"In private. What time will you stop working?"
"I have no idea. Late." He smiled at the cryptic response.
"I will bring over a meal."
"I did not invite you," she pointed out.
"I don't believe I need an invitation." He merely continued to eat when she glared at him.
"I'm not getting involved with you, so forget it."
"I believe we're already involved," he told her calmly.
Resisting the urge to scream, she clamped her mouth shut and picked up a roll.
"Ever thought about cutting your hair?"
"Why?"
"I like it long. I keep imagining it spilling all over my pillows." He reached over to play with a fat coil that had escaped her tidy bun.
"Then I guess I'm going to have to cut it."
"You wouldn't." His confident tone had her gritting her teeth. The man was impossible.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, charged with stubbornness and something unspoken. She glanced away, her fork tracing idle patterns on her plate. "You have an answer for everything, don't you?" she muttered, not quite able to keep the edge from her voice.
He grinned, unbothered. "Only when it comes to you."
"You've finished your meal." He sounded pleased.
To her surprise, she realized she had almost scraped the pattern off the bowl.
"I guess I was hungry." She glanced at her watch and saw to her shock that they had been inside the diner for almost an hour.
"I have to go."
"All right. Let me get the--" As if by magic, the server came over.
"How was the meal?" Completely ignoring Allison, she beamed at Dimitri.
"Excellent. We will certainly be back." He paid in cash and had the woman's eyes popping wide at the generous tip.
"I will look forward to the next time."
With a nod, he rose gracefully and came around to take Allison's hand.
"You gave her too much."
"I can afford to, and the meal was excellent."
"I suppose it does not bother you to throw money around."
He shrugged with an easy confidence. "Money's only useful if it makes life better for me, for others." His gaze softened, lingering on her a moment before he released her hand. "Besides, generosity is never wasted."
She shook her head, bemused despite herself, and gathered her things.
"Did you come up with that all on your own or did you read it in a fortune cookie?"
He grinned at her as he opened the door for her to get in.
"What are you doing?" She squeaked when he leaned in.
"Fastening your seatbelt." He slid the buckle in place and stayed where he was. He was so close, she realized to her surprise that his eyes had flecks of gold on the irises and were not completely black as she had originally thought.
"The belt is hooked." Her breathing was becoming constricted and to her mortification, her nipples were reacting alarmingly.
"So, it is." He made no effort to move and was amused at how jumpy he made her. "You know, you have the prettiest lips I have ever seen."
"I bet you've seen plenty."
"I have, yes. More than my fair share." He lifted a hand to cup her chin, his thumb making circles over her lush bottom lip. "What do you call this color?" he asked lazily.
"What?"
"The lipstick."
She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach and focused on his question, determined not to let his nearness get to her. "It's called Crimson Dream," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. The name seemed to hang between them, charged with a meaning neither wanted to define just yet.
"It's apt. I wonder what it tastes like?" he was speaking more to himself than to her.
"We're in the parking lot--" A moan slid from her throat, as he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.
Her breath was backed up and she was helpless to resist. Warmth slid through her body slowly, insidiously, and before she knew it, her fingers were curling into the thin material of his sweater.
The kiss was lazy, a stroking of lips against lips.
Their breaths tangled, the air thick with desire.
She wanted him. It was no use pretending otherwise. She wanted him like she had never wanted another human being before, and it frightened her.
His hands slid to her waist, anchoring her gently but firmly, as if he needed to feel her just as much as she needed him.
Time seemed to pause, the sounds of the parking lot fading into a distant hum, leaving only the two of them cocooned in the moment.
She felt herself melting, caught between the thrill of surrender and the sharp edge of uncertainty, but unable to let go.
She would cheerfully have allowed him to take her right here in full view of the people in the diner and the vehicles whizzing by.
That was how much she had lost her senses.
Desire, white hot and glaring, spread throughout her body like a sickness and swamped her mind.
His mouth ravished and devoured and made her feel weak and vulnerable.
It was the raucous laughter a few feet behind them that brought her to her senses.
She pushed at him and when he would not budge but simply trailed his lips over her cheek and down to her throat, she shoved harder. This time he lifted his head, eyes darkened, face harsh with passion, the intensity of it frightening her.
For a heartbeat, neither moved, suspended on the precipice of something wild and irreversible.
Her chest heaved, pulling in shaky breaths scented with his cologne and the faint trace of her own perfume blending in the air.
She searched his face, trying to read the storm behind his gaze, both craving and dreading what might come next.
When he eased away, she told herself that it was relief that she felt and not regret.
His body leaving hers, left a vacuum that astounded and confused her.
Without a word, he slammed the door shut, giving her the chance to lean back and struggle for control.
Turning her head away, she did not look when he climbed in and started the vehicle.
They made the short ride to her office in complete silence, each burdened with their own thoughts.
As soon as he stopped the vehicle in front of the unassuming gray stone building, she fumbled for the handle to make her escape.
When his hand clamped on her arm, her head whipped around to snarl at him, the words dying inside her throat at the look on his face.
"I will see you later," he told her harshly.
"Even if I have to wait all night camped out at your place, I will see you.
" His fingers bit into her skin. "And if you decide to stay away, I'm going to find you. "
Emotions strangled her chest and stopped her breath. This was utter madness, and it had to stop. Pulling her arm away, she made her escape and did not look back.