CHAPTER FIVE #2
I don’t wait for anyone else to chime in. Their goodbyes and the heat of their scrutiny follow in my wake.
Heading toward a side exit for employees, I cut through one of the populated areas and pass a horde of guests walking on the wrong side of the hallway.
Always on my freaking list. As soon as I veer around them, a hostess and a server from our restaurant L’ange Noire shake their heads at the group before rolling their eyes at me in commiseration.
It might be an item on my list, but the entire staff gripes about that offense.
It makes cruising through the resort challenging.
Finally away from the crowd, I slip into an empty corridor by the theater staging area, deciding I’ll wait outside for Maddox. But before I’m halfway to the door, footsteps echo behind me.
This week and my guard detail have me on edge, so I covertly rip my knife from my belt and spin.
Maddox’s face lights up at the sight of the blade. “That’s my girl.”
“Cut the shit, Drac.” Still clutching my weapon, I cross my arms beneath my chest, relishing the way his gaze latches to my cleavage more than I should.
Because I’m pissed and I’m making a point.
“Not only is that the last descriptor I’m interested in having, but no one is your girl for more than a night, and that type of night would fall into the never-gonna-happen category for us. ”
He smirks, his glacial eyes crinkling as they skate over my curves, which has my stomach flip-flopping. “You been keeping tabs on my love life, Lockhart?”
“Certainly not. I doubt anyone could count that high.” Fuck, that sounds bitter.
The alcohol in my system is muddling everything, so I walk backward toward the door, nonchalantly kicking my chin to the eye in the sky.
“We can’t do this here. I’d really like to keep any regrettable association with you quiet.
Can I indulge your delusional alphahole bullshit in the car? ”
“Stop,” he demands, sauntering toward me, hooking an arm around my waist, and hauling me into a dimly lit backstage area.
He sits in a director’s chair, but keeps an arm around me so I’m tucked between his legs.
It happens so fast that I’m frozen, surrounded by shadows and theater curtains while breathing him in. “What the hell are you doing? I thought we were leaving.”
“You said you wanted privacy. I didn’t want to risk you clamming up on me by waiting until we were in the car, and I have something to say.
” He pauses there, probably testing me to see if I’ll bolt, but I’m intrigued by the something to say part of that explanation …
until he shares it. “As implausible as it may seem to you and as regrettable as you may deem it, you and I are connected to one another for the foreseeable future. You are very much mine right now, Tess.”
I’m instantly infuriated with myself and him.
I raise my hand, warning him off, and start to whirl away from him. “Well, I’m done trying to figure out your motivation for anything—”
He clutches my wrist, holding me to him. “Ask me.”
“What?”
“Ask me what my motivation is for anything,” he repeats, “and I’ll tell you.”
Why do a thousand questions pop into my head, as if a part of my brain has been storing them up, hoping to unravel the mystery of Maddox Noire?
I’ll blame it on the alcohol that I’m lurking in an empty theater in lieu of heading home and I can’t seem to tell him that I don’t want to know anything about him and insist that we leave.
Instead, my mouth spits out a query without my authorization. “Why the employee piece? Is it what Axel and Ryker made you take on or …”
I’m not sure what he expected me to ask, but it wasn’t that.
It’s surprising to me too. Maybe I need to justify my reasoning for calling him to help me that awful night.
I could’ve reached out to Jax or some of the security guys here.
I was closer to them. But I’d always felt some sort of unspoken connection to Maddox, and part of me believed he was the most capable and also safe, someone who would put his life on the line for people who needed him.
His chest deflates with a ragged breath, and after a good thirty seconds of him staring at me, his response is raspy.
“I asked to run it. My mom was an employee here. For a minute … before …” He’s never been less composed than this, and something about it reeks of authenticity.
“I like making sure the staff is valued.”
“That’s …” It’s on the tip of my tongue to say honorable because the mention of his mom and his drive to take care of his staff have me all gooey inside, but then I remember that this is the same guy holding something over my head and dismantling my life because of it. “Less pompous than I expected.”
His haunting gray gems drop to my lips before rising to lock on to mine. “What else?”
That hungry glimmer in his eye is going to get us both in trouble. An unsettling urge to press my mouth to his surges through me.
“Well, since you said anything, what is this”—I flip my hand between us—“about?”
He glances away in a move that, again, screams honesty before peering down at me. Even on a stool, the man is tall. “Part of me wants to know you, part of me wants to break you, and part of me wants to own you.”
So much to unpack from that simple sentence. Why, after all this time, would he decide he wants to know me? What would breaking me entail, and why does it send a thrill to my core? And who the hell does he think he is, wanting to own me?
I suppose he already does, to an extent.
My heart thrashes against my sternum and ribs, and a little voice inside my head commands me to run. I’m already too entangled. He’s going to hurt me. Again.
“We should go,” I whisper. “I need to get home.”
He senses that the moment between us has ended, so he splays his hand more firmly on my lower back, securing me in place. “Don’t do that. You wanted answers, and I gave them. And based on what you asked, it sounds like you want to know me too.”
Is he serious about that? No, the desires to break me and own me are far more on point. There was a trace of something hopeful in that reply though, and it frustrates me. He’s fucking with me. And I’m falling for it.
“Fine,” I snap, affording him another chance. “I have one more question.”
“Give it to me.”
“Do I have any say in how this goes?” I bite out.
Another ragged breath. “No. That’s the owning you part.”
“If you really wanted to know me, Maddox, that answer would be different.” I turn and walk away, determined to keep my guard up.
He might be able to dictate my life, but he can’t make me speak to him or flatter him with this getting-to-know-each-other bullshit. I will not be controlled by him or anyone. Never again.