Chapter 15
Life is weird. Or maybe this is a dream and I’ll wake up with a really bad hangover. But the food is good and my lips are still tingling from his devouring kiss.
He tells me the rest while I eat. Including the complainant’s name.
Wallace Prince.
My boss.
All the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Things I didn’t remember at the jail during the night from hell surface in my mind. As he talks, I press my hand to my forehead and groan.
In a grumpy voice, I say, “He asked me about my weekend on Friday. He came to my desk. The man leaned on the partition and he asked me what I was doing.”
Come to think of it, he never asked me what I’m doing on a weekend. Ever. The man couldn’t give a rat’s ass what I do. Until it was important for getting me arrested.
I mutter a curse. “Of course I told him I was trying to get out of the photoshoot and all the details.”
Tobias doesn’t move.
“He laughed, and he said it sounded like fun,” I add, a I push the plate away and stare at the wall. Memories scorch through me. “He had the nerve to say, ‘Good for you, Vera,’ like he was genuinely happy.”
When I look at the biker again, Tobias looks murderous. The way his pupils flash dark is alarming.
He half-growls, “That’s how they knew where you’d be.”
“Yes, I think so, it all makes sense now.”
“Fucker signed a sworn statement against you that morning and then he walked over to your desk and asked you about your weekend.”
Hearing it sounds even worse. How did I miss what a jackass my boss is?
“I flagged it,” I tell Tobias finally. “It came up during a reconciliation. Four hundred and sixty thousand dollars that went out in a handful of transfers over a few months.”
I press my hand to my stomach, hating this part. “Every one of them has my signature on it, because I’m the junior signatory. I flagged it. Twice. In writing. And both times he came to my desk and put his hand on my shoulder and said, don’t worry about it, Vera, I’ll handle it personally.”
Tobias is a stone pillar of hate sitting on that stool.
“He was planning it,” I say, an icy cold sensation reaching my fingertips.
I don’t cry.
Not in the cell and not in the courtroom. Or in the parking lot with the cuffs on. I’m not going to start now. What I do instead is stand up.
“Vera,” he calls as I walk away.
“I need to stop thinking, Tobias,” I mutter. “I’ve been in my head for hours straight and I would love to stop.”
He rises off the stool slowly, unfolding that tall, sturdy body, and crosses the room to stop in front of me. The man is enormous. He blocks the whole room out.
“Then stop,” he says in a husky reply.
I huff, pressing my fingers against my temple. “That’s not how it works with my brain.”
“It is with me.”
He reaches up and he puts his hand around the side of my throat.
Not squeezing. Just holding. His thumb settles under my jaw and tips my face up. His palm is hot and rough and covers everything from my collarbone to my ear.
Every thought in my head goes out like a light.
Oh, that’s how it works.
“Good,” he says. “Stay right there.”
The silence that stretches for the next minute has a charge to it. My head is as empty as a balloon.
“I need to say something,” he tells me thickly, “and I need you to hear it before we go one inch further.”
“Uh. Okay.”
Without hesitation, he announces, “I’m not gonna be careful with you.”
My legs turn to trembling Jello.
“I’ve had to be careful my whole life,” he says in the lowest of husky tones. “Every woman I ever put my hands on was fragile. I had to hold her like she was made out of glass. I hated it every damn second of it.”
I’m mesmerized and hanging on his words as he rubs his thumb on my jaw, in a slow, back and forth motion.
He drops his gaze to my mouth as he says, “Been thinking about what I want to do to you, and it is not careful, Vera. It is not gentle. It is not nice.”
I am not breathing. Not sure if I ever will again.
“So you tell me to stop now,” he rasps, dragging his gaze back to my eyes. “Because once I start, I’m not stopping. And I’m going to show you what not-careful feels like.”
Tobias wants to fuck me roughly. And in saying that, he’s saying I am not too much. For the first time in my life I’m in the presence of somebody who might actually be enough for me.
“Tobias, honey,” I whisper with champagne bubbles in my blood. “My whole life I’ve been handled like I’m the biggest thing in the room.”
“You’re not the biggest thing in this one.”
“No,” I whisper. “You are.”
His hand tightens on my throat. Flames tear up and down my spine, landing in my lower tummy.
“Don’t be careful,” I tell him, unable to keep the smokiness from my words.
That’s it. The control he’s had snaps. He makes a rough sound as he fists the front of my dress and growls, “Vintage. I’m not tearing it.”
His other hand searches my back, on a mission. The gigantic biker drags the zipper down all the way, one-handed.
He’s breathing harder when he says, “I’d never tear it. But I want it off you now, so help me get it off.”
I laugh, and it turns into a gasp as I lift my arms, exposing my skin to his eyes and the cool air.
He sucks in a breath, takes a step back and stares. I tremble, unable to think of anything but, wow.
Ace places the dress over the closest chair, neatly folded in half. His eyes never leave me even though I’m in my boulder-holder bra and a plain cream slip.
“Say something,” I whisper, because the silence is killing me.
“Get on the bed,” he commands.
Fire ignites on my face. But the heat inside of me is far stronger.
He stalks closer. “Get on the bed before I put you on it.”