Chapter 12
12
I nara
I finally found him. My mystery dom. He holds my gaze, a touch of humor in his smile, waiting to see how I react.
Like me, he’s a guest at this ridiculous ball. And for some reason, the Chief of Police is eager to introduce me to him.
Now I have to remember to play a part. I force my feet to carry me over to him. With each step, I can hear him murmuring?—
Little bird. . .
“Yes, here you are,” Jordan is babbling. “Mr. Roy?—”
“Chief Jordan, please. How long have we known each other? Mr. Roy was my father. Call me Rex.”
Jordan’s mustache twitches up. “Rex, then. May I present NRPD’s newest detective?” Jordan motions for me to come closer. “Inara Ramos.”
I stop short of where Jordan wants me, unable to stand and allow myself to be presented to this man on a silver platter. Fortunately, Jordan doesn’t seem to notice.
“Rex is our biggest supporter and donor. This whole event is sponsored by the Roy Family Foundation.” Jordan drones on and on about the great philanthropy of the Roys while I glare up at the man I was intending to hunt. Rex Roy doesn’t miss my reluctance to come closer or my glare, but he isn’t bothered. In fact, the corner of his mouth quirks up.
“He specifically mentioned wanting to meet you,” Jordan says to me like it’s a great honor. “He was intrigued by your job description.”
The room spins again, the floor tilting under my feet.
It was him. He orchestrated all of this.
Rex raises his drink to take a sip, and his cufflink flashes in the light. The gold is fashioned into the head of a lion. I recognize it instantly. It’s the same design as the gold charms decorating the chains on my dress.
He sent the dress.
He got Jordan to make me come here.
Why?
I’m gripping my clutch like it’s a lifeline to safety. My skin feels too tight. Heat floods me, pooling in my lower belly.
Rex Roy is everything I’ve imagined and more. He’s younger than I envisioned, a smirking playboy. But that’s a facade, a part he plays to hide the monster he really is.
I can’t stop staring at him, noting the little details like his blunt fingernails and the thickness of his glossy hair. The way he stands like a gladiator in the arena, ready for a fight. Assessing everyone around him and dismissing them as weaker. Confident in his own dominance. He’s tall and rich and important, and his mere presence has a weight, a gravity of its own. I feel it pulling me toward him now. A response to his power, with an undercurrent of need.
I want his hands on me again. I want him to hold me, control me, command me. I want his hands to stroke me while I rub against him like a cat.
And he knows it. His eyes crinkle as he finishes his drink and sets it on a passing waiter’s empty tray. Is he laughing at me?
“Detective Ramos,” he murmurs in the same velvet tone that he crooned Inara the first time I scened with him.
He knows me. He’s always known me. He must know everything about me, yet I know barely anything about him.
I want to run away. I want to throw my clutch in his face.
Is this what he gets off on? Keeping me off balance, a weaker partner in our kinky dance?
“A pleasure to meet you,” he says.
I say nothing. I can feel Jordan staring at me, wondering why I’m being so rude, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Rex Roy. Even I’ve heard that name mentioned in the news. Heir to the Roy fortune. He’s mentioned in every business magazine’s list of the world’s richest people, sometimes gracing the cover. He’s not even thirty.
Billionaire. Philanthropist. My mystery dom.
Murderer.
I have no proof, but I know it’s him. . . and I think he knows I know.
What game is he playing? What is going on?
In the front of the room, the conductor strikes up the band. Violins sing with a sweeping melody. The lights around the room dim, leaving only the chandeliers overhead to bathe everyone in a halcyon glow. Everything’s lovely and muted except for the man towering over me. Every detail of him stands out in stark relief against the blurring background.
I watch his perfect lips shape the words before I hear them. “Dance with me.”
Even knowing he’s killed people, I ache for him. My whole body shudders with the desire to go to him. I want it more than anything in the world.
He extends his hand.
Then I realize what he’s asking. He must read the shock on my face because he pivots to Jordan. “You don’t mind if I steal your detective away for a dance.”
Jordan blusters a negative, and Rex says something back. He claps the chief on his shoulder, waving in the direction of the bar. He’s buying me a moment to get a hold of myself.
Or he’s carrying out his plan to get us alone. And can’t both be true? I hadn’t realized I was playing chess with a grandmaster. I’ve let myself blunder around, blindfolded, for too long.
That stops now. I’m going to get answers.
I can do this.
I can face him.
When he turns back, I’ve mastered my breathing and my expression, but not my reaction to him. The heat in my belly, the flush in my face.
“Well?” he murmurs, and the world narrows. We’re the only people in the room. “One dance?” His dark eyes twinkle like he knows how tempting he is. Surrounded by the scent of him, it’s easy to forget he’s anything but the dom who tied me up and let me fly so freely then held me afterward.
“Would you prefer I wear the gloves?” He reaches into his pocket. “I brought them.”
My heartbeat flutters frantically, pounding in my throat.
“No,” I rasp. “That’s okay.” He planned this. And he thought of the gloves. . . for me.
It’s so sweet and perfect I could cry.
“All right, little bird.” There’s a challenge in his smile.
I can’t cry. I can’t fall apart. I have to fight this, fight my reaction to him. “Don’t call me that.” I grab the fraying edges of my courage, take a smooth step forward, and put my hand in his.
It’s huge and warm, and I swear I feel his pulse under my palm. Or maybe that’s my own heart booming in my chest.
“As you wish.” And there’s nothing but fondness in his tone. He closes his fingers over my hand, and a shudder goes through me.
“Breathe,” he orders softly, and the command helps my lungs expand. “Just breathe. That’s it. Good girl.”
I shoot him a savage look even as I cling to his hand. His fingers are strong, with some rough callouses on the insides of his knuckles.
I haven’t touched anyone like this in so long. I’m actually holding his hand. I want to hold it forever. It’s so wrong, and yet, his touch is the only thing keeping me on my feet.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t do this.
I have to.
I want to.
I stare at him, and he seems to understand my struggle. And like the dom he is, he takes over. He squeezes my hand lightly and places his free hand on my back. The music swells, and he sweeps me away.
Moving with him is as easy as breathing. I forget my steps and follow the slight pressure of his hands.
It helps that the other dancers make a wide circle around us. But then I realize most of the room is staring. Rex Roy is the main event, and I’m the stranger in his arms.
One tall, handsome man in a gray suit that matches his eyes watches us. There’s a tumbler of whiskey in his long, slim fingers, and he sips it, studying us like we’re animals on a safari. My eyes meet his, and I can’t look away from him, caught in his hawk-like stare.
Rex shrugs his shoulders, blocking the stranger’s gaze. “It’s all right, little bird,” he rumbles. His hand on my back is warm through the fabric of my dress. “I’ve got you.”
He eases me along, leading me into a turn so effortless it feels like floating. He holds me like I’m fragile. Like I’m precious. I’m the sole object of his intense focus, the dominance that saturates every muscle in his body. He planned this, and now he’s enjoying his victory.
And I relax. Gods help me; he makes it so easy to lose myself.
We end up in a corner of the ballroom by the orchestra. A signal from Rex and the conductor motions for the players to play more softly. Rex and I sway together.
“You look more beautiful in the dress than I imagined.”
“You shouldn’t have sent it.” I need to get a grip on this situation, of myself. I need to question him, break him down like the suspect I know he is.
He grins like he’s been caught stealing a cookie but that he can charm his way out of any trouble. The boyish look adds a dimension to his classically handsome face. It’s so mesmerizing I miss a step and almost trip.
He steadies me, the movement familiar from our scene at Club Empire. The consummate dom, caring for me. Planning ahead, unveiling his power slowly so I can lose myself in his control.
Gods, what am I doing? I need to focus.
Back at HQ, there are photos of the men he’s killed. He’s the dark shape caught by the security camera, the one in my visions. And my dreams.
“I know it was you.”
His expression changes. Every hint of the charming playboy slides away, and I’m staring at a chiseled face as cold and deadly as the barrel of a rifle. This is the real Rex Roy. The magnate who owns half the city. Because in this modern world, that’s how you accumulate power. He’s a businessman who’s made himself into a force to be reckoned with. A man you don’t cross.
And also a killer.
“Do you, Inara?”
I love my name on his lips, so I tell him, “It’s Detective Ramos.”
“It is?” His fingers caress mine. He’s still holding my hand, and his touch is everything. It’s everything I’ve wanted for so long.
I thrust his hand away and step back. We’re still inches apart, face to face, but I find my anger and center myself. I’ve sacrificed everything to hunt for justice . I can’t let him thwart me now. “I know you did it.”
He tilts his head. “Do you have proof?”
I refuse to let him put me off balance. If he’s ten steps ahead, he might have used his connections to get his hands on details of the case. He has the chief’s ear. But he might not know about the security tape footage. Or the way I clocked the similar rope patterns.
Or maybe he knows everything, and he knows I’ve got squat. Nothing to tie him to the case beyond a feeling in my gut.
“I will. And when I do. . .”
He laughs softly, and the sound makes my toes curl in my new, uncomfortable heels.
“I have no doubt you will do your best, Detective.” As soon as he says my title, I miss him saying my name. “I look forward to watching you work the case.”
So he is watching me. All those times I felt like someone was following me. . . I stiffen my spine. “I look forward to seeing you—” I catch myself before I say behind bars . We’re at a charity ball, for Gods’ sake. To raise money for the NRPD. I can’t go screaming accusations at the host.
Not until I have evidence that he hunted and slaughtered two men.
On the other side of the orchestra, the man in the gray suit is still watching us. His attention didn’t waver when the rest of the room looked away. And it’s more than a gossip’s interest. He could be a reporter—or a TV personality. He’s handsome enough and very well-dressed.
Rex catches me staring and turns, seeking his quarry. He finds it, and his muscles harden under the fine wool of his tux.
The man in the gray suit takes the brunt of Rex’s glare with a slight smile. He salutes Rex with his empty whiskey glass, turns and disappears into the crowd.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“No one you should concern yourself with.” Rex faces me again, shifting so his broad shoulders block out the rest of the room. It makes me feel safe—and angry. How dare he try to protect me, this man who kills so easily.
“Don’t—” I burst out, wanting to chew him out for presuming to tell me who I should or shouldn’t be concerned with.
He places a finger on my lips. “Not here.” Before I can bite his finger off, he dips his head closer, and his scent swirls around me, his voice captivating. “Club Empire, midnight. I’ll be waiting.”
I choke on a sudden swell of desire.
He pulls back, straightening his lapels. Slipping back into his role as host.
“You have questions. I have answers. I’ll see you at midnight.” He catches my hand and skims his lips across my knuckles before striding off. Leaving me breathless.
* * *
Him
My fingers tingle where I touched her. I laid my hand on her back and held her. And she let me.
Her subtle fragrance clings to me. Jasmine. I bring my sleeve to my face and inhale.
“Rex,” someone’s calling me. Some socialite in a crowd of fake faces. I ignore them all. They’re as shallow as a petri dish, their sins too boring to catalog. They’re not even good for hunting.
Unlike my little bird. She’s real. And she knows the real Rex Roy. Out of all these people clamoring for my attention, she alone senses the danger. She alone is smart enough to run.
Fly fast and fly far, little bird. This time, you won’t escape me.
Years of searching. Months of planning. And finally, she’s going to be mine. . .