Chapter 3 #2
“Playing games.” He leans fully into my airspace. “I told you downstairs in the foyer, Principessa. I draw the lines. You cross them, I’m the one who doles out the consequences.”
“I am a grown woman. I don’t need a bodyguard assigning me detention.”
Nick lets out a low, incredibly dark chuckle. “Detention isn’t what I have in mind for you.”
“She’s lying.”
The rough, gravelly voice shatters the heavy moment.
I jump. I look past Nick’s broad shoulder.
Rafe stands at the entrance to the kitchenette. He completely blocks the only exit.
He has abandoned the balcony windows. He stands with his arms crossed over his massive chest. His tattoos peek out from the rolled sleeves of his black henley.
He stares at me with pure, unfiltered suspicion.
Nick doesn’t step back. He doesn’t give me an inch of breathing room. He just turns his head slightly.
“Introduce yourself, Beast,” Nick commands.
Rafe pushes off the doorframe. He takes two slow, aggressive steps into the tiny kitchen.
The temperature in the room skyrockets.
“I’m Rafe,” he states. He doesn’t offer his hand.
He looks at my mouth. He looks at the heavy, dark hair spilling over my shoulders. His golden eyes drop to the deep plunge of my emerald dress.
He inhales slowly through his nose. He catches the scent of my rose perfume again.
Another deep, painful growl rumbles in his chest. His hands flex at his sides. He looks like he wants to throttle me and drag me into his lap at the exact same time.
“You’re lying about the text,” Rafe continues. His voice is a rough scrape against my nerves. “You meant every word. You want us.”
“Excuse me?” I bristle, stepping to the side to put a fraction of an inch between myself and Nick.
“Your heart is beating so fast I can see the pulse in your neck,” Rafe points out. He takes another step closer. “You smell like fear. But you also smell sweet. You like this.”
“I want you out of my kitchen.” I glare at him.
“Too bad.” Rafe smiles. It is a terrifying, feral baring of teeth. “We go where you go. Those are the rules.”
The USB drive shifts again.
The sudden movement sends a sharp spike of pure panic straight through my veins. The metal slides a full inch further down my ribcage.
If I move too fast, it is going to fall straight out of my dress and clatter onto the marble floor.
I need to get to my bathroom. I need exactly two minutes alone to hide Dominic’s stolen secrets.
“Move,” I demand. I place my hands flat against Nick’s solid chest and push hard.
It is like trying to shove a concrete pillar. Nick doesn’t budge a single millimeter.
“Where are you going?” Nick asks quietly. He doesn’t move his hands, but his body traps me completely.
“To my bedroom. To change out of these clothes.” I glare up at him, injecting every ounce of Costa arrogance I possess into my tone. “Unless you plan on supervising my wardrobe change, too?”
Nick stares down at me for a long, agonizing second.
He looks at Rafe. Rafe gives a tight, almost imperceptible nod.
Nick finally steps back. He gives me exactly one inch of clearance to slip past him.
“Five minutes,” Rafe says. His rough tone brooks absolutely no argument. “Then I’m coming in to check your windows.”
I don’t wait for them to change their minds.
I slip past the two massive men. I keep my arms pinned tightly to my sides, praying the drive will stay lodged in the lace.
I practically sprint out of the kitchenette. I cross the plush rug of the sitting room, my eyes locked entirely on the heavy mahogany door to my bedroom.
I grab the brass handle. I twist it, shove the door open, and slip inside.
The lock clicks shut behind me.
My breath rushes out in a ragged, desperate exhale. I lean back against the cool wood of the door for exactly three seconds.
I don’t have time to panic.
I push off the door and cross the sprawling bedroom. I head straight for the massive walk-in closet.
I reach into the plunging neckline of the emerald silk. My fingers brush the sharp edge of the hard metal.
I pull the stolen USB drive from my bra. It is warm from my skin. It feels ten times heavier than it actually is.
I drop to my knees in the back corner of the closet. I push aside a row of expensive designer shoe boxes.
There is a loose floorboard perfectly hidden beneath the baseboard. I pry it up with my fingernails. I drop the tiny silver drive into the dark cavity and snap the wood back into place.
Safe.
I close my eyes. I let my head fall forward in absolute relief.
The heavy click of my bedroom door unlocking echoes loudly through the quiet space.
My eyes snap open.
The heavy thud of tactical boots echoes against the bedroom floorboards. The sound is aggressive, restless, and far too close.
Rafe.
He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t wait for his five minutes to expire.
I scramble to my feet. I smooth down the wrinkled silk of my dress and step out of the closet.
He steps inside and reaches behind him without breaking stride. His massive hand grabs the brass handle of my bedroom door.
He pushes it shut.
The latch clicks softly. The heavy thud severs us entirely from Nick and Jude out in the sitting room.
We are completely alone.
His golden eyes lock onto mine across the length of the room. The massive, imposing man dwarfs everything around him—my furniture, my space, the air itself.
Rafe takes a slow, measured step toward me. The predatory grace in his movement makes the hairs on my arms stand straight up.
“You smell different now,” he murmurs. His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through the floorboards.
I back up until my spine hits the doorframe of the closet. “I haven’t changed yet. You’re early.”
“I don’t care about the clothes.” He takes another step. He inhales a deep, ragged breath. “The panic is gone. You’re hiding something, Firebird.”
He crosses the final few feet between us.
He crowds into my space, his massive chest a wall of solid tactical armor caging me against the closet frame.
The raw, heavy musk of his arousal is a physical weight, filling my lungs until I’m lightheaded.
He doesn’t ask for permission. He’s stripped his tactical gloves, and his bare, calloused hand clamps around the nape of my neck in a bruising, territorial grip.
I can see the dark ink of the tattoos winding down his wrists as he forces my gaze up to meet his golden, predatory stare.
His touch is primal, inevitable. The “gentleness” I expected is gone, replaced by a possessive strength that makes my knees buckle.
He leans down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my earlobe before he speaks.
“I can smell the fear coming off you, Firebird. But beneath that, I smell exactly how much your pussy is aching for me to corner you.” He leans in, his nose brushing the pulse point at my throat.
“I’m going to rip this entire room apart until I find what you’re hiding.
And once I have it, I’m going to use this mahogany door to pin you at the waist and remind you why you don’t lie to a man like me.
By the time I’m done filling you with my seed, you won’t remember your own name, let alone where you hid your little secrets. ”