Chapter Twenty—Blake
When I stir, I can sense at once that something is wrong.
I lift my head from the pillow and glance around. It’s not her. She’s lying right there next to me, as she’s done every night for the past ten days or so. The two of us have fallen asleep in each other’s arms night after night, dozing off when we’re too tired of fooling around to keep our eyes open.
Each evening, she’s gotten back from work or classes—in her own time, under her own steam, despite my best efforts to convince her to let me pay for a cab or a driver—and has come to my family’s estate, where we’ve spent the nights together.
"I could get used to this," she told me one evening when I got the cook to put together a gorgeous plate of meats and cheeses and fresh bread to enjoy in the garden.
I didn’t say it then, but I couldn’t help but hope she did get used to it. It’s still strange for me, wrapping my head around the reality of letting her do this on her own terms, but she’s made it abundantly clear that there’s no other way to play this thing. For all the games I’ve played, all the tricks I’ve pulled off, being honest with her might be the hardest one, the one I’m still struggling to get my head around completely.
But if it means I get to wake up next to her, then it’s worth it. I can’t imagine what Isabella is going to say when she gets back and finds out I have a girlfriend. My sister knows as well as anyone that I’m not exactly the romancing type, but there’s something about Sophia that makes me want to change my ways.
I reach out and smooth a hand along the small of her back. She opens her eyes, her gaze landing on me, and she stretches sleepily. The covers nearly fall away from her as she moves, and I let out a groan as I see a few inches of her gorgeous skin.
"You’re going to distract me from my senior thesis," I tease her lightly, though we both know I haven’t exactly been working hard on it. I’m all but guaranteed my degree as it is. No need to strain myself when I know the university will hand it to me no matter what I do.
"Oh, no," she replies, feigning horror as she plants a hand to her chest. "You need me to give you some motivation to stay focused?"
I grin as I kiss her and pull her against me. My cock stiffens against her thigh. God, I want her so fucking badly, even now. I had been worried I would get bored of being with her after she made it clear she actually wanted me, but all the time we’ve shared together only made her hotter. I’ve explored every inch of her body, more times than I can count, discovered all the ways to make her come, all those sweet little spots that push her over the edge and into her release, and I’m addicted to finding as many more as I can.
We manage to disentangle ourselves by eight, when she heads to the shower to get washed up for her classes. I’m supposed to be heading out to a meeting at the restaurant, but there’s something nagging at the back of my mind, something warning me that I need to be careful today, cautious.
I push it aside. My father always told me to focus on the facts, not the nonsense your brain tries to convince you of for no reason. Until I see some good reason to worry, I’m going to go about my day as normal.
This is the downside to having someone around who you actually care about. You’ve got all the more to lose if something goes wrong, something I’m becoming more and more aware of with every passing day.
She steps out of the shower, fresh and washed, her skin glistening with a deliciously tempting dampness, and drops a kiss on the top of my head.
"I’ll see you at the restaurant later, okay?" she tells me. I nod.
"See you then."
She heads off, and I listen for her footsteps as they head down the stairs. We’re meeting up at lunchtime for something to eat at the restaurant before she starts her evening shift. I’m already looking forward to it. In the meantime, I have a meeting with one of my father’s old supervisors about the plan going forward for one of his properties in the center of the city. Then I have a call with Isabella about her return to the US.
I keep myself busy for the rest of the morning, and though nothing seems to give me good reason to worry, I can’t ignore the doubts nagging at the back of my mind. They’re snagged on a mental hook I can’t seem to shake off.
It’s all this time I’ve been spending with Sophia, that's what’s got me worried. I feel like I’ve taken my eye off the ball, and when that happens, it’s all too easy for people you thought you could trust to sneak in under the radar and work against you. My father had always drummed it into me, from when I was a boy, that you could only trust yourself, and maybe I’ve been getting a little too comfortable, thinking I can trust the people near me, too.
I climb into the Merc and head down to the restaurant. As soon as I pull the car to a halt outside, I can tell something is wrong. The other times we’ve met like this, she’s been outside, waiting for me. Sometimes, we go for a spin in the car, sneaking off somewhere nobody will come looking for us so we can fool around before lunch. But she’s nowhere to be seen.
I climb out and lean on the hood for a moment as I glance around.
"Sophia?" Nothing. My voice echoes off the walls of the alleyway around me. I take a step forward, toward the back entrance of the restaurant, and place my hand on the handle. Something holds me back. If I head in there, I don’t—
Then, all of a sudden, a sound from inside catches my attention. My heart skips a beat, and I throw the door open, only able to think of Sophia.
And, as soon as I step into the back entrance, I see her—and my heart drops when I spot the state she’s in.
A man has one arm wrapped around her waist, and the other is pressing a gun to her temple. I can’t see his face. There’s a mask pulled down low to cover it, allowing just a puff of dark hair to stick out the top. They’re standing in front of the office, the door sitting open, and Sophia is frozen in terror.
"Blake!" She shrieks my name as soon as she sees me. I go to lunge forward and free her, but the man cocks the gun, his hand shaking.
"Hey, back the fuck up!" he barks at me. I lift my hands, feeling useless. Fuck! I never go anywhere without a gun, but I was stupid enough to think I would be safe here.
"Let her go!" I demand. My voice catches at the back of my throat as I see the fear coursing through her eyes. If something happens to her...
"Just back the fuck up, Blake," the man continues, his voice trembling. He’s trying to sound intimidating, but the truth is, he seems terrified. I grit my teeth. I don’t know who the fuck is under that mask, but I’m going to make them pay for this.
"What’s going on here?" I ask, trying to steady my voice.
"I came in, I was just early for our lunch date, and I-I found him in the office!" Sophia blurts out. "He was going through your stuff, he was trying to find the lockbox full of money, and when he saw me, he pulled a gun, and I—"
"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" the man commands, ire spilling into his words. He’s harsher with her than he is with me, and that pisses me off even more, knowing he’s willing to disrespect her like that. No, not my girl, not right in front of me.
I take a step toward him.
"Put that gun down," I tell him quietly, "and you can walk out of here like nothing happened."
It’s a lie, of course. I’m going to make him regret this. If anyone thinks they can steal from me—let alone come after Sophia—they’ve got another thing coming.
The man shakes his head. "I’m not falling for that," he growls. He presses the gun hard against her temple. I can see the metal digging into her skin. One wrong move and he’ll pull the trigger. He’ll kill her. And if I lose her...
Blind rage courses through me. I won’t lose her. I fucking refuse, not when something in me needs her more intently than I need air, not when my whole life would collapse in on itself if she slipped through my fingers.
"I can give you anything you want," I tell him, keeping my voice low and steady. If I can make a move for the gun, if I can get it off him… I just need to play it cool.
"Any money, any power, anything," I continue. "You want this place? I’ll sign it over to you."
"Like you would ever see that through—"
"Like I would ever fail on my word," I shoot back. "That’s not how my father raised me. When I say something, I mean it. It’s that simple."
The man hesitates. I can tell I’ve gotten to him. He might not want to admit it, but he’s listening to me. The gun droops a few inches—and that’s all the time I need.
Sophia seems to sense what’s going to happen in the split second before it does. She slams her elbow back into his ribs, sending him staggering back into the office and crashing to the ground. I rush forward and drop down to my knees, snatching the gun from him and pressing it against his chin.
"No, please, no—" the man begs me, but I don’t give a fuck. I pull the trigger. His body spasms backwards, and brain matter, blood, and skull fragments explode across the floor behind him.
I hear a scream ring out at the same moment the shot does. I drop the gun at once and spin around to face Sophia. Her hands are clamped to the sides of her face, her eyes wide as she takes in the carnage in front of her. I rise to my feet, wrap my arms around her, and pull her close.
"Hey, hey, it’s alright," I murmur against her hair. But the thick, heavy scent of gun smoke hangs in the air around us, and there are blood spatters on my hands. I know, even as I try to hold her close, that nothing is going to be the same again after this.