Chapter 12
twelve
ROSE
Dare studies the stairs and I study him. His profile could inspire artists. Every part of him could have been carved from marble. Hard, perfectly smooth, beautiful. Suspicion fills his gaze when he glances back at me. It’s unlike the way he watched me before, like he knew exactly who I was at the center of my being. Now he looks at me like I’m a wild animal that might escape.
If he thinks I have nefarious plans for him, he has no idea how exhausted I am. The adrenaline is slowly seeping out of me, and it’s a miracle I’m still sitting upright.
“I’m not going to move,” I tell him.
He lifts his scarred eyebrow as if to say yeah, right. Something about him staring up at me makes my stomach flutter. He kneeled at my feet to carefully clean the blood off them, and I can’t help wondering if this is the only time I’ll see him in this position. His attention strays to the knife he wrapped in a towel and set on the counter.
The murder weapon .
His leverage .
“Scared, beast?” He’s the one who helped me kill Eric. Why would he be afraid of little old me?
Eyes narrowing, he shakes his head. “No.”
It’s my turn to lift an eyebrow. “Then, go get the tweezers.”
“Are you always so demanding?”
“Are you always so annoying?” I fire back, losing myself in the familiar banter in favor of falling apart.
His lips twitch as he rises, searching my face for a second before saying, “Don’t move.” He turns and walks across the glass, skirting around Eric’s prone form, taking my false sense of security with him. The farther away he gets, the more my mind focuses on the way the knife cut through Eric’s skin like it was nothing. The way the flesh pulled apart and crimson poured out of the wound.
“Hey, princess?” Dare’s voice drags me out of my mind. At the stairs, he’s poised with his hand on the railing, ready to ascend. “Breathe.”
And then I realize my lungs are on fire, begging for air. I nod at Dare and inhale. He watches me for another moment before returning to his task. I focus on anything in the room but the body. The pulsing ache in my feet. The weight of my body. The way my shoulders hunch. The way Dare is the one thing helping me through.
But that’s only because he has me. I played the game and lost. My goal was to get into his head, find a way to get what JD Miller & Co needs, and get him off the board. Now he’s the one who could destroy my life.
Stupid girl.
Pinching my eyes closed, I fight the nausea rolling around in my gut.
How is it that, in a matter of days, I’ve undone all my hard work?
“You’re thinking too loud,” Dare murmurs, his voice soft and incredibly close.
A gasp slips past my lips and I open my eyes, breathing in the heady vetiver surrounding me. Dare is mere inches from me, his body nestled between my parted legs. I didn’t hear him approach. Didn’t even notice him closing in. He had every chance to kill me, to get rid of whatever threat I pose. But he didn’t. A hard line forms above my nose as I search his face. The amber streaks in his deep brown irises are so beautiful, complex and intriguing and confusing.
I don’t know how I ever thought his eyes were one, soulless color.
There’s no hate in his gaze—only pity—like he knows the demons I’m battling by simply looking at me. Like he’s picked apart the pieces of my being and found me lacking.
A burst of anger has me straightening until my nose nearly brushes his. “What are you looking at?” I demand.
Dare’s eyes narrow, and whatever I thought I read in his face quickly morphs into a mask of boredom. “I brought your mouthwash too.” He hands me the travel-size container I keep in my purse.
Grudgingly thankful, I open the bottle and swish some around my mouth before spitting into my empty water cup. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet, this is going to hurt.” He crouches and takes my ankle in one hand, the tweezers in the other, and gently digs for the final piece of glass. I grind my jaw and dig my nails into my palms to keep from crying.
“It’s okay to cry.”
What does he know ?
“You can’t keep bottling up your emotions,” he chastises.
I’m tired of him thinking he knows me.
“Fuck you. How’s that for emotion?”
He scoffs. “That’s not very nice. I’m helping you.”
“You’re extorting me.”
“Pot. Kettle. You. Me.”
As the glass finally tugs free of my skin, a fresh stab of pain runs up my leg. I gasp but quickly slam my lips closed, refusing to give in to the emotions in front of Dare, but it’s almost too much. My vision blurs. Dare sets the tweezers aside and stands, giving me his back as he takes in the mess. A tear breaks free. I bat it away, and by the time he turns back, I’ve got myself under control.
“There’s a body.”
His eyes widen. “Really? Where?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying?”
“I’ll remember all the hate you spew the next time I make you beg to come.”
Heat fills my belly, an entirely inappropriate response, given the current situation, but Dare does something to me I don’t understand. His mere presence makes me want to throw all caution to the wind. To embrace the whisper of a voice inside me that says he’s not as bad as everyone says. That curiosity, in itself, is dangerous. “That won’t be happening again.”
He smirks. We’ll see.
“The body,” I prompt. “Don’t you have people to take care of things like this?”
“And why would I have people, Rose?”
My mouth parts, ready to call him a beast again, but the warning look in his gaze is enough to steer me away from that. “Because you’re rich and powerful. ”
“In that case, why don’t we call Daddy, hmm?” Dare tugs his phone out of his pocket and taps on the screen a few times, showing me my father’s contact information before hitting the call button.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
He puts the phone on speaker. The first ring makes my chest clench. The second makes my stomach drop.
That call can’t go through.
Placing my palms on the marble, I start to push myself off the counter—glass-covered floor be damned—but Dare is suddenly there, his giant body preventing me from getting down. Electricity wraps around me, an alluring leash drawing me closer.
Why does he have this effect on me?
I glare up at him, a red flush of anger blooming across my face. He gazes down at me, a keen awareness in his eyes. My reactions are giving him too much power. The phone rings again.
“What do you want?” my dad snaps. The harsh tone makes me flinch. Dare notes the reaction with a simple blink.
“Joseph.” Dare purrs his name. “I want to talk about your daughter.”
I shake my head, grabbing Dare’s arm, pleading with my eyes. Don’t tell him. Please, don’t tell. I’ll do anything, please. I don’t want Dad to see me as anything other than his good daughter.
Dad sighs. “What about her?”
Dare has no heart. No sympathy. He’s going to tell my father that I killed Eric. He’s going to tell Dad that I went behind his back and tried to use my information against Dare. Dad told me to leave it alone, and I didn’t listen.
I kept so many secrets from him .
My mouth parts, ready to cut in, but Dare’s finger presses into my lips, shushing me. The scarred eyebrow twitches. I relent and press my lips closed. With a nod, he ghosts his finger from my mouth, over my cheek, and pushes my hair behind my ear before gripping my chin. When I try to pull away, he holds me in place.
“She was rude at the board meeting,” Dare says.
Scowling at him, I try to convey my hate, but it only makes his smile widen.
“I know. The outburst was unacceptable,” Dad says.
My gaze snaps to the phone, my anger redirected to the man who sent Eric here.
“I want an apology.”
Focus zooming back to Dare, I furrow my brow. An apology? Really.
Dare nods at me, face coming close, fingers tight around my chin.
“She won’t do it again.”
“I don’t care, Joseph. Your daughter insulted me in front of the board.” Dare’s voice has gone dangerously low. His forehead rests against mine, the phone held up beside both of us. “She needs to apologize,” Dare murmurs. His breath washes over my face, minty and warm.
“And I assume you want a public apology?” Dad growls.
Great. Now I’m on his shit list. My eyes burn with shame, and Dare takes it in, his expression unchanging.
“Actually,” he begins, “in private will do.” Brushing his lips over mine, he seals my fate with a threatening kiss. “Monday. In the office.” And then he hangs up and tosses the phone aside, crushing his lips to mine.
I suck in a sharp breath, and he slips his sinful tongue between my lips and kisses me until I moan, falling into the sensations he inspires, but as soon as the sound leaves my chest, he rips his mouth away, leaning back to stare at me.
His chest is heaving as hard as my own.
And then, he smirks. “You’re fucked, princess.”
After the call with my dad, Dare contacts someone who will deal with Eric’s body, then gathers a few essentials in an overnight bag—the murder weapon being one of them—before carrying me out to his car, bridal style.
My fingers grip his shirt, and I studiously ignore the hard pecs underneath the fabric. “I can walk,” I insist.
“Quiet, wife .”
I swear I’m going to castrate him.
“So violent for a pious princess,” he murmurs, like he can read my mind.
“Maybe you can teach me a few things, hmm, beast?”
Dare stops beside his car, upper lip curling as he stares down at me. “Keep running your mouth and see what happens.”
“And what exactly are you going to do?” I snap. “Force yourself on me? The last man who tried that is dead.” A new wave of disgust rolls over me. I’ve traded one monster for another.
Dare lowers me and sets me on the ground.
My teeth grind together. Even with the bandages and the flats, the wounds hurt with pressure on them, but there’s no time to worry about that. Dare’s arms trap me against the car as he presses into my space.
“I won’t need to force myself on you,” he growls. “You’ll cry for my cock, ache for it. Mark my words, you’ll beg me to take you, Rose. ”
“Doubtful,” I say, but my voice comes out breathy.
“Keep lying to yourself,” he says. “But I know that pretty cunt is probably weeping for me right now.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate you.”
His chuckle is dark, sending a shiver down my spine. “We don’t need love to fuck, princess.”
Now he sounds like Cassia. “We’re not fucking.”
Dare ignores me and opens the passenger door, stepping back and tipping his head toward it in a clear command.
“What, no please?”
“Get in the car.” He pauses and grimaces. “Please.”
Scoffing, I hobble forward to drop into the seat with all the grace of a newborn calf. The rush of pain that runs through my body has Eric’s angry face flashing through my mind, the way he pushed me up against the cabinets. The rough way he held my arm. The way he groped me.
Dare slams the door, startling a yelp out of me, and I glare at him as he rounds the car, his movements smooth and predatory. Not even Dare carrying my Saint Laurent bag can take away from the deadly vibes that shimmer around him.
After tossing the bag into the back, he slides into his seat. Dare is so...big. So larger-than-life. It’s not that he’s strong and clearly works out all the time, it’s something about him. His aura is magnetizing, and the more time I spend in close quarters with him, the more I fear I’ll lose myself in that dark allure, trying to pick him apart until I understand what makes him this way.
Dare turns on the car, cuts a knowing look in my direction, and pulls away from the curb. I don’t like that he thinks he knows what I’m thinking. I don’t like that he was right—my body was ready for him. That, even after everything that happened, I want him. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Maybe it’s me needing comfort. Whatever it is, I have to keep it in check.
He already takes up so much space, and if I’m not careful, he’ll consume my every thought.
Entering Dare’s house is different this time. For one thing, there’s a tall guy dressed in fatigues waiting for us. He’s bulky, ripped like a bodybuilder, and the crew cut of his dark hair screams military or some type of special forces. But the aura of venom surrounding him tells me his profession is a little more sinister than that of a simple veteran-turned-bodyguard.
This is the same guard from the night on the balcony and the one who’s almost always with Dare. Remy, I think is what my PI said his name was.
“Dare.” Remy scowls from me to his boss.
“Later,” is all Dare says. He carries me through the door Remy holds open, and while I’m relieved not to walk on my wounded feet, I loathe that it makes me seem fragile. Like I’m the princess he accuses me of being.
“Keep frowning like that, and your face will get stuck that way,” he murmurs. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“Things have changed.” For one, Eric is dead. There’s no immediate threat.
“Hardly. You’re digging around in my business, and what better way to keep my eye on you than to have you at my side?”
“My father will be pissed. He won’t just let you marry me. ”
Dare chuckles. “And what makes you think I give a shit?”
I press my lips closed and look away, scowling at the walls as he carries me up to his bedroom. He drops me onto the mattress and I bounce. “A little warning would have been nice.”
Dare smirks before dipping into the closet. I glance around for any type of weapon. The lamp might work, but the slim rod won’t do much damage to Dare if I hit him with it. He’d probably think of it as foreplay. Maybe I should shove it up his ass and see how he likes it.
Reemerging, Dare tips his head to study me, clutching a black T-shirt in his hands. “You can plot my murder another night.” He throws the shirt at me, and I barely catch it before it hits me in the head. “Change.”
“If you think you can order me around—” Air rushes out of my lungs as my back hits the mattress.
Dare looms over me, eyes narrowed, mouth inches from mine. “Shut up. Change. Go to sleep.”
“Fuck you. Get off me. Go die.”
His lips twitch.
Bastard.
“Now, princess, are you flirting with me?”
What sort of unhinged monster considers go die flirty?
“Dare,” I try, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Please get the fuck off of me before I find a way to make you choke on your dick.”
His nostrils flare. “Maybe you should be the one to choke on my cock.”
Heat blooming in my low belly, I hate that I’m intrigued by the idea. Hate that the person who makes me feel safe is the very person I should want nothing to do with. “Off,” I snarl and push my hands against his chest .
Dare rolls to the side with a dark chuckle that shivers down my spine, and then he’s up and out of the bed, storming into the en suite without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
My gaze strays toward the bedroom door. I could run. I should. But exhaustion has me rooted in place. Then there’s the fact that Dare has incriminating evidence he could easily use against me. He knows where Eric’s body is being disposed of too. A heavy breath rushes out of me.
I peel off my camisole, wincing when the bruise on my arm aches. Eric grabbed me hard. I scowl down at the deep purple and blue mark his fingerprints left behind. Phantom fingers grasp at my pants, and my heart skips at the memory of Eric’s fingers tracing down my back.
A shudder racks my body.
My throat goes dry.
Lungs clenching tight, squeezing until there’s barely enough air to breathe.
Dare finds me half undressed, staring down at my arm, frozen in place by memories I don’t know how to escape. The beast watches me for three beats, growls, and prowls toward me. My pulse thunders in my ears, and I press my eyes closed.
That only makes it worse.
You’re going to marry me.
“Princess.”
I waited years for this deal.
“Rose.”
Fucking cunt.
“Goddammit.” I hear Dare’s rough voice seconds before his hand finds my throat and the other buries in my hair, tipping my head back until our eyes meet. Mine glassy, his stormy and dark and as turbulent as the sea. “Breathe,” he demands.
And like that command sets me free of the memory, air fills my lungs and the fingers around my neck softly flex, coaxing me to take another breath. I drown in the depths of Dare’s gaze, willingly sacrificing myself to the beast to escape the phantom. Dare is here. Dare is real. Dare helped me kill Eric.
I don’t regret it, don’t feel as guilty as I should, and the angry edge in Dare’s irises tells me, neither does he. We might hate each other, we might want to destroy one another, but we share the violence of the moment.
Our fates intertwined and bathed in blood.
His grip in my hair grounds me, holds me up, keeps me aware until my heart stops racing and my breathing evens out. Hard lines are all but embedded in his skin as he carefully watches me, as if memorizing the way I put myself back together, tucking away every last scrap of Eric into the far recesses of my mind, right next to the memories of the night my mother died.
All this weeping is pathetic, Rosalynn. Your mother would be disappointed.
Ice sluices through my veins. I slam every emotion back behind a wall. Dare recoils slightly, though he still has his hand wrapped around my throat and the other in my hair. If anyone were to walk in, we’d look like lovers about to kiss, but I know the truth.
Deep down, Dare is worried about what I’ve found.
“You’re scared,” I whisper.
Dare’s gaze hardens, and his grip on my neck tightens, not enough to hurt but enough to warn. “You have no sense of self-preservation.” He releases me so abruptly, I topple over .
I get to my knees, but before I can tell him off, he shoves his shirt over my head. Growling, I push my arms through the sleeves and scowl at him. “You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a brat. Lie down.” Dare flops onto the right side of the bed.
“If you think I’m going to sleep with you, you’re delusional.”
Dare arches his scarred eyebrow. “You’d rather sleep alone?”
“Obviously.”
“Fine.” He pushes off the bed and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
I glare at the door, waiting for him to barge back in and order me around some more, but five minutes pass and he doesn’t come back. Sighing, I lie back, turning on my side and trying to get comfortable.
Only, every time I close my eyes, Eric is there, and this time, Dare isn’t here to distract me. Stubbornness keeps me from calling him back, because I can’t give him the satisfaction of being right.