Chapter 16
Leia’s wrist throbbed like a son of a bitch.
In a hurry to leave after the hotel doctor had examined her, she’d forgotten to take the painkillers he’d provided.
Sitting at her table in the stunning gala ballroom, she gingerly massaged the tensor bandage. Despite her injury being ruled a mild sprain rather than a break, it ached badly. She bit her lip as a dart of pain shot up her arm.
God, it hurt…
But the pain didn’t compare to the absolute emotional devastation she’d experienced when she’d walked into the room and seen Noah with his arm around a statuesque redhead.
They’d been so absorbed in each other that he hadn’t noticed Leia frozen beside his table for a good half minute.
Only a blind fool would’ve missed the familiarity between him and his buxom friend. Even then, Leia had been unwilling to accept it. Until the redhead had leaned in and whispered in his ear. Leia had watched her red lips mouth the word “fuck,” and a dagger had speared deep into Leia’s heart.
Perhaps sensing her agony, Noah had finally raised his head from the no doubt scintillating conversation, but only to grace Leia with a dismissive glance before doing that half smile thing.
Then his gaze had dropped to her bandaged wrist. He’d vaulted upright in his seat, his face transformed into a furious mask.
The head usher, whispering urgently that Leia really needed to take her seat, had been the prompt her feet needed to carry her away from Noah.
The last hour had passed in an excruciating cauldron of hell. Although her seat was out of his direct eye line, she could feel Noah’s gaze boring mercilessly into her from his executive table. She’d barely touched her food, nor been able to force down more than a mouthful of water.
They were ten minutes away from the Krug & Regroup interval. From past experience, she knew it was the power half-hour when deals were struck over more booze and expensive cigars. Once that was over, the keynote speaker, Noah King— oh God —would give his speech.
She risked a glance over her shoulder. His blue eyes hooked into hers, furious and demanding. The redhead leaned closer and whispered in his ear again. He gave another lip twitch but his eyes didn’t release Leia’s.
Beside her, a masculine throat cleared. “Did my flowers arrive?”
Leia pried her gaze from Noah’s, past the redhead’s fingers, which now caressed his neck, and faced forward.
“You cannot ignore me for the whole evening,” Warren pressed. “My actions were… unfortunate. You set me straight in no uncertain terms. I’d like to think we can draw a line under it and move on?”
She finally deigned to look at him, her stomach roiling in sickening memory.
“I asked to be moved from this seat. Unfortunately, the doctor who was called to attend my sprained wrist was unavoidably delayed. The charity hostess thought I wasn’t coming, so they didn’t bother to move me.
That is the only reason I’m sitting next to you.
Do yourself a favor and pretend I’m not here because I intend to do likewise.
” She turned and smiled at the guest to her right, cradling her wounded wrist in her lap to avoid anyone noticing how badly she was shaking.
The moment the MC announced the interval, she excused herself and jumped up.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Noah rise too.
She made it to the ladies’ room and collapsed into an empty stall.
Half expecting him to storm in after her, she sat on the toilet, her heart in her throat.
It took several minutes for her heart rate to drop from runaway-freight-train to speed-hound pace.
And for her to wonder whether she’d blown the whole thing out of proportion.
Had Noah really been that interested in her, or had he been getting up to attend to someone else, like the redhead?
Her stomach churned with acid jealousy as she shakily rose and flushed the toilet she hadn’t used. Opening the stall door, she went to the sink as three women walked in—including the redhead.
Fucking A.
Socialite Number One, the blonde in the group, checked herself out in the mirror, before leaning forward to tidy up her re-applied lipstick with the corner of a tissue.
“Brandon’s getting on my last fucking nerve with this threesome bullshit. It’s his birthday next week. I think I’ll just do it, get it over and done with.”
“Hmm, make sure you set the rules before anything goes down. Mine got a little awkward when Stanley tried to make it an ongoing thing. He claims I said he could have one whenever he pleased,” Socialite Number Two huffed.
“As if I’d want some skank rolling around in my Sferra Milos sheets every other night of the week. ”
They dissolved into giggles fueled by too many glasses of champagne. Socialite Number Two turned to the redhead.
“So what’s going on with you and the yummy Mr. King? We saw you two cozying up earlier.” She smacked her lips together in rapid succession. “God, if I didn’t love my Stanley, I’d hit that with everything I’ve got and then some.”
Redhead swept her fiery curls over one bare shoulder and gave a sultry smile. “My lips are firmly sealed. But I can guarantee they won’t be later.” She winked and more giggles ensued.
Leia stood frozen at the sink, her face drained white enough to give a Geisha a run for her money, as the trio trailed past her and out the door.
The adrenaline, which had coursed through her system when she thought of Noah, suddenly drained out of her. Nausea churned in her belly. Taking several deep breaths, she forced herself to straighten her spine.
Raise her chin.
Move.
Fuck Noah.
Fuck Warren.
Fuck every last man on earth?—
Firm, merciless hands grabbed her waist the moment she stepped out of the washroom. Before she could blink, she was dragged through a dim archway and into an empty, smaller ballroom.
Adrenaline shot back into her system.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
Noah didn’t stop. He slammed his hand against a door that opened onto a wraparound balcony on the south side of the sprawling hotel.
It had been converted from a pseudo-French chateau, and the clever design of the building allowed them to see into the gala ballroom but offered privacy unless anyone stepped out onto the balcony.
To one side, a set of wide stairs led down to the private driveway and beyond it to extensive gardens complete with intricate mazes and manicured lawns.
He trapped her against a stone pillar, hands braced on either side of her head.
She’d forgotten just how utterly devastating he looked in formal attire. Now, towering over her, with his shoulders blocking out the world and those eyes fixed squarely on her, her breath caught all over again. Her nipples hardened into tight, painful nubs and her sex throbbed to life.
She shouldn’t be feeling this way about him. Not when he planned to fuck someone else tonight?—
“What the fuck happened to your wrist?”
She’d seen Noah angry, but the furious intensity in his eyes was unlike anything she’d experienced before.
“Do you care?” She couldn’t resist throwing his words from last night in his face.
Some desperately anguished part of her wanted him to remember last night.
To remind him of how incredibly soul-shaking their mutual self-pleasuring had been.
How primitive and visceral he’d been, leaning against that wall, stroking his cock.
God, yes. He had to remember because no amount of bravado could disguise the knowledge that she couldn’t bear him moving on so quickly.
“Tell me how you hurt your wrist, Leia.”
“Who is that woman?” she blurted.
He frowned. “What woman?”
“The redhead. ”
His hand slashed through the air in arrogant dismissal. “She’s nobody. Your fucking wrist, Leia.”
“I was sparring with Warren this morning… He grabbed me…”
His mouth worked for several seconds without any sound emerging. Then he crouched until he was eye level with her. His cobalt-blue gaze drilled into her. “Snyder did this to you?”
Pulse racing, she pressed her lips together.
He cupped his left ear and leaned closer. “I didn’t catch that, sweetheart. Did. Snyder. Do. This. To. You?” His voice dripped with lethal ice.
“Yes.”
He straightened slowly and rocked back on his heels. One corner of his mouth lifted and Leia’s heart stopped. He took several steps into the ballroom before she realized his intention. Pushing away from the pillar, she grabbed his arm.
“Noah, wait.”
He stared down at her. “Take your hand off me, baby,” he advised softly.
Fear spiked through her. “No. Where are you going?” The picture of his NYPD mugshot flashed through her mind. She knew how badly he’d hated himself for losing control two years ago. “Please, don’t do anything…”
She caught a glimpse of Warren walking toward them at the same moment Noah did.
Dislodging her hand, Noah lunged through the French doors, grabbed Warren by his lapels and dragged him to the balcony.
Noah’s first punch landed with a sickening crunch on Warren’s jaw. With the element of surprise on his side, he got another punch in before Warren started to recover .
Years of Bartitsu and Wing Chun had rewarded Warren with quick reflexes.
He kicked out with his foot, but Noah reacted quicker. Sidestepping the other man, he delivered a powerful jab to Warren’s ribcage.
Warren coughed once and went down. When Noah started to reach for him, Leia caught his arm.
“Noah, stop! Oh God, stop. Please!”
He planted his foot on Warren’s throat, exerting enough force to keep him down. Then his eyes sought hers, a puzzled look in them. “Excuse me?”
An usher, heading their way bearing a tray of drinks, braked to a stop when he witnessed the spectacle unfolding. Leia shook her head frantically at him, and he beat a hasty retreat. “Please, Noah. Let him go.”
Warren gripped Noah’s ankle and started to struggle.