Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Sophie
My stomach clenches with a hot twist of fury. “Get your hand off me.”
“My future wife will ride in my vehicle.” His words ring in my ears, possessive and final, and I hate how my body registers the low timbre of his voice like a physical stroke down my spine.
I wrench myself forward, but his fingers only flex once, firm enough to warn without hurting.
Caleb stands a half step behind him, his broader frame blocking the ride-share driver like a living wall, his dark eyes steady on my face as if he’s already cataloging every microexpression of my panic.
A black SUV eases to the curb. The driver alights to open the rear door.
Everything about these men screams orchestrated control, and the realization slices into my ribs. They planned for this.
“You’re our fiancée.” Lucian’s voice slides over me, calm and inevitable, no room for argument in the quiet certainty of it.
He allows his words to settle against my skin like the cage they are.
I open my mouth to snap back, but movement catches my peripheral vision.
Though I have never met him, I know the man striding toward us. Rafe Sterling, owner of the hotel. Well, this one and dozens of other prestigious properties throughout the country and world.
He’s moving purposefully, a man who is confident in his power.
A faint sense of relief flickers through me. Finally someone capable of making them back off.
“Problem?” Rafe’s tone carries easy authority, and his gaze flicks from Lucian’s hand on my shoulder to my face, assessing.
Lucian’s fingers ease a fraction, but he doesn’t remove them entirely. “Sterling,” Lucian greets.
Of course the bastard knows Rafe. Maybe they even gamble together.
“And there’s no problem.”
My cheeks burn. Half the valet line is watching now, subtle glances and lowered conversations. I can feel the weight of eyes on us. And a woman pulls out her phone and focuses the camera on us.
A few minutes ago, I didn’t care if I burned the world down.
But having a confrontation on the front page of a gossip magazine could hurt my reputation and overshadow the evening’s events.
Defeated, I squeeze my eyes closed.
I can deal with Lucian and Caleb in private.
Pretending to be composed, I slowly turn to face Rafe. “Everything is fine. I just didn’t realize…” I pause as his name almost sticks in my throat. “I didn’t realize I already had a ride waiting.”
Rafe remains in place, looking at me. “You’re certain?”
I force a smile. “A simple misunderstanding.”
“We apologize for any concern.” Lucian nods.
Then, as if he has every right to do so, he slides his hand to the small of my back, and he guides me toward the waiting SUV.
Caleb falls in on my other side, close enough that his arm brushes mine, making the night air feel thinner.
I hate how aware I am of them, the faint scent of Lucian’s cologne—dark nights and controlled intent—mixing with Caleb’s more lethal edge. My skin prickles everywhere they almost touch, traitorous warmth pooling despite the fury still hammering through my veins.
The SUV’s leather is butter soft and cool against the backs of my thighs as I slide across the seat.
The door closes with a heavy, startling thunk, sealing us in together.
Caleb settles beside me, thigh pressing against mine with deliberate possession, while Lucian takes the opposite side, his knee brushing my gown. The driver pulls smoothly into traffic without a word, as if this is routine.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Home.”
Panic threatens to choke me.
“Your place,” Caleb clarifies.
How has he read me so easily?
“But…” I look from one to the other. “I didn’t give you my address.”
“We know everything about you.”
I’d thought Lucian was the scarier of the two. But Caleb is damn well terrifying.
“We’ll be providing you with a driver from here on out,” Lucian says, his voice low and matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather.
Anger flaring, I look at him. “I’ve managed just fine for twenty-eight years without—”
Caleb settles his hand on my knee. The contact sends an unwelcome jolt straight up my thigh, and I stiffen.
“You won’t need to manage anymore.” The rough edge of his voice vibrates through me. There’s no argument. No negotiation. Just cold certainty.
I want to shove his hand away, but I don’t want him to know he’s unnerved me. So I stare straight ahead, jaw clenched, while the city slips past in streaks of neon and shadow.
Silence pulses between us until Lucian speaks. “Give me your phone.”
“What?” I frown. “No.”
“You’ll need a way to reach me.”
I set my chin. I’m so over his dictatorial ways. “Actually I won’t.”
Caleb glances pointedly at my small purse. “Would you like me to get it?”
The audacity of these men.
Once I do as Lucian instructed, he programs in his information. Then I drop the device back in my bag, refusing to look at him.
When the SUV finally glides to a stop outside my modest downtown building, relief floods me.
I reach for the door handle, but Caleb has already exited, and he offers his hand.
Ignoring him, I step onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the vehicle.
Within seconds, they’ve flanked me, and we climb the stairs to my second-floor unit.
My fingers shake, and I fumble once before Lucian takes the keys from me.
I don’t thank him when he returns the keys.
Before I can slam the door closed behind me, they’re inside, flipping on the light.
They’re so big that my living room suddenly feels claustrophobic.
I see my place through their eyes—the mismatched furniture I’ve collected over years of living below my means so I could send every spare dollar to the clinic.
They take in the kitchen table that’s stacked with client files and half-read behavioral finance articles.
Heat crawls up my neck as Lucian’s gaze sweeps the room, slow and assessing, while Caleb moves to the window, checking the lock with unnerving efficiency.
Suddenly the weight of the evening crashes around me. “You can leave now.”
Ignoring me, Lucian moves closer, close enough that I feel the heat of his massive body.
He winds a loose lock of my hair around his index finger.
The gentle tug sends tiny sparks racing across my scalp. Despite myself, my breath catches, the sound audible in the silence.
His midnight-blue eyes hold mine, dark with promise, and he leans in until his mouth hovers a whisper from mine.
“I look forward to sampling every inch of you, Ms. Langford.” His voice is velvet over gravel, low and intimate, each word brushing my lips like a caress. “Soon.”
He feathers his thumb across my lower lip, slowly and deliberately, sending liquid heat spiraling through me.
My pulse thunders in my ears, traitorous warmth flooding between my thighs even as horror chases it. No. Not this. Not them.
Not ever.
I lock my hand around his wrist, fingers digging into the fine fabric of his tuxedo sleeve, and push his hand aside. The lock of hair slips free, but the memory of his touch lingers like a brand on my skin. “I said you can leave now.”
My words are not as forceful as I intend, and I hate it. Hate the way my body hums where he touched me. Hate how Caleb watches from across the room, dark eyes intense with the same relentless hunger.
Lucian doesn’t retreat immediately.
He straightens, but his gaze stays locked on mine, satisfaction curving his mouth in a controlled half smile. “Soon,” he repeats. His words are softer this time, like a vow wrapped in silk.
Caleb strides to the door and opens it. I can’t help but notice that he looks around before stepping outside.
Lucian follows, pausing on the threshold to look back at me one last time.
He pulls the door closed behind him.
I hurry over to click the lock into place.
Then, exhausted, I sag against the wall, heart hammering so hard I feel dizzy.
None of this can be happening.
Overwhelmed, I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the cool floor, knees drawn to my chest, my dress pooling around me like spilled hope.
Lucian said we’d be married within a month.
Which gives me time to figure a way out of this.
They need to understand that this is not surrender.
Lucian Hawthorne and Caleb Whatever-his-last-name-is have no idea what they’ve unleashed.