Chapter 12 #2
I turn to her, exhaling one last breath of smoke. “Princess.”
She freezes. Not just at her name. How I say it. I’m testing it. Testing her. Seeing if it fits the way I think it does. Her lips part slightly, her mask slipping for only a fraction of a second before she smooths it over.
“Have we met before?” I murmur, my voice even, but weighted.
She recovers quickly. Too quickly.
“Of course,” she says smoothly. “Our families run in the same circles.”
I don’t blink. “No. Not like that.”
Her pulse flickers at her throat. A tell. I know her. I don’t know from where, not yet, but the feeling itches at me—persistent, insistent.
Does she know?
She tilts her head, feigning confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Liar.
I watch her, searching, letting the silence press against her. She doesn’t waver. She’s good. Controlled. I exhale slowly, flicking the cigarette over the railing, watching the ember fade before it hits the ground.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “Forget I said anything.”
She smiles then—soft, harmless. A fucking lie.
But I don’t let her slip away just yet. Not yet.
“You know…” I murmur, my voice dripping with insinuation, with heat. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you want me.”
She exhales softly, shifting slightly against the railing.
“And what if I do?” she murmurs, voice like silk.
My jaw flexes. She shouldn’t have said that.
I step closer, just enough to let the heat of my body reach her despite the cold. Just enough to make her feel it. I watch the way her breath catches, the way her fingers tighten against the railing, the way her pulse flutters just beneath the delicate skin of her throat.
She likes this. She wants this.
And fuck, I like that she wants it.
“Then that…” I murmur, my voice dropping into something low and dark, possessive. “…would be very, very bad for you, Princess.”
Her gaze flickers, but not in fear. It’s something worse. Something dangerous.
I let my eyes drag over her, slow and deliberate, taking my time because I can. Because she lets me.
Then I meet her gaze again, smirking. “But I bet you like bad things.”
The corners of her lips twitch. She takes a slow step back. A measured retreat. A game.
And fuck, I want to play.
But instead, I watch her leave. I should let her go. Should let this moment dissolve into nothing. Let her disappear into the sea of New York’s elite like she never existed.
But I don’t. I stand there for too long, staring at the empty space where she was, my pulse thrumming like a distant war drum.
A fucking problem.
I roll my shoulders back, exhaling sharply before pushing off the balcony railing. The cold air does nothing to temper the restlessness gnawing at my ribs.
I need out.
The valet barely has time to react before I snatch my keys from his hand.
“S-sir, are you sure y-you’re okay to dri—” he stammers.
But I slam the door shut before he can finish.
I don’t want a fucking driver. The penthouse is only fifteen minutes away.
I can’t sit in the backseat of a blacked-out car, listening to the silence and pretending I don’t feel the weight of her still clinging to my skin. For some reason, she got under my skin more than any other woman ever has.
I need to move.
The moment my foot presses down on the gas, the engine growls. The city blurs around me, neon and shadows streaking across the windshield as I weave between cars, pushing past the speed limit like it’s a suggestion.
Too fast. Too reckless. Too fucking much.
I tear at my tie, yanking it free and tossing it onto the passenger seat. My shirt is already half unbuttoned, the night’s tension coiled tight in my muscles, simmering just beneath my skin.
I blow past a red light. The blaring horns barely register. Then…
Flashing blue and red in my rearview.
Fuck.
I could stop. Could pull over like a sane man. But I don’t. I keep going.
I take the next turn hard, tires screeching against the asphalt, the wheel smooth in my grip. The sirens wail, growing louder, closer, insistent.
Then another red light.
I run it.
The police car is on me now, tailing close, voice barking through the speaker.
“Pull over. Now.”
I don’t. Not yet.
The rage that’s been simmering all week boils over, spilling into my hands, into my foot pressing down on the accelerator, into the sharp inhale I take as the adrenaline hits.
Another turn. The tires burn against the road, leaving skid marks against the asphalt. The sirens keep up, flashing, screaming, chasing.
Then, the road narrows—no more room to run.
Shit.
I slam the brakes, the car jerking forward before skidding to a stop. The moment the wheels still, doors slam open behind me.
The cops are on me in seconds.
“Out of the vehicle! Hands where we can see them!”
I shove the door open, stepping out slowly and rolling my shoulders back. My chest rises and falls steadily, my pulse still roaring from the high of the chase.
Two officers. One reaches for his cuffs, the other keeps his hand on his gun. Smart.
I smirk. “Bit dramatic for a speeding ticket, don’t you think?”
The first officer narrows his eyes. “You ran three red lights, nearly crashed into two vehicles, and refused to pull over. That’s reckless endangerment.”
“Right.” I exhale, wiping a hand over my jaw. “Guess that does sound bad when you say it like that.”
“Turn around.”
I don’t. Not immediately.
Instead, I hold his stare, letting the moment drag. Then I tilt my head slightly, lifting my hands halfheartedly before turning—slow, deliberate. A hand grabs my wrist.
Too tight. I don’t like being touched.
The second he tries to twist my arm, my body reacts. Fast. Sharp. Vicious.
I move before I think, jerking forward and slamming my elbow into his gut. He stumbles back, swearing, but before I can do anything else, something heavy slams into my ribs.
A baton. Fucking hell.
I stagger slightly, but it’s the distraction they need.
The second officer shoves me against the hood of my car, my cheek scraping against the cool metal.
My wrist is wrenched back, the bite of steel clicking around it and locking tight.
I let out a slow exhale, the sting of the impact settling into my bone.
The first officer grips my arm, his breathing sharp, pissed. “That was assaulting an officer. You just made this a hell of a lot worse for yourself, asshole.”
I let out a low chuckle, my breath still steady. “Oh no. Not that.”
He wrenches my other hand back harder than necessary, snapping the other cuff into place. “You’re under arrest for reckless driving, running a red light, resisting arrest, and assaulting an officer.”
I don’t fight as they haul me toward the patrol car, shoving me inside.
The door slams shut. The sirens wail again, this time around me, swallowing me whole as the car pulls away from the street.
I let my head fall back against the seat, exhaling through my nose.
Tonight just got a hell of a lot more interesting.