Chapter 2
Two
Thorn
“Meow?”
I scowl at the kitten. “Don’t look at me,” I mutter. “You’re the one who decided you wanted to live here.”
“Meow.” She butts her head against my ankle, and though I try to retreat—knowing exactly what’s coming next—I’m not faster than a cat.
“Shit. Fuck. Dammit!” I jump and wince and jerk as Violet does her favorite thing—
Uses my legs and torso as a climbing post.
“Meow,” she says proudly as she settles on my shoulder, rubbing her jaw against my throat.
“Yeah,” I grumble, settling my hand on her back so she won’t fall as I make my way to the fridge and pull out a beer.
I pop the cap, take a swing…and apparently do it too quickly because Violet digs her nails into my shoulder. “I’ve got you,” I grumble as I head for the couch, my open laptop, and my waiting (and overflowing) inbox.
“Meow,” she protests as I walk, claws pricking my skin.
“I said, I’ve got you.”
“Meow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter as I sink down onto the couch. “You’re grumpy and unhappy with me. Join the club,” I say, sitting back and picking up my laptop. “But don’t worry, I have so many emails to deal with, I won’t be moving for a good long while.”
“Meow,” she replies, as though she understands me.
And I don’t know what’s crazier—thinking there’s a possibility, however slight, that she actually does, or carrying on a conversation with her knowing that she doesn’t.
Regardless, I take another sip of my beer.
Quiet the voices.
Keep myself busy so I’m not talking to animals who can’t understand me.
Clear my inbox.
But it’s not easy, not when my mind keeps drifting toward a certain prickly woman with a painful past and shadows clinging to her guarded blue eyes.
Like it has for the last week.
Hell, like it has from the first time I saw her, months ago.
Violet chirps softly before making several circles on my shoulder and settling down for a nap.
Her purrs rumble against my neck, her tail curling forward to drape down my chest.
Cute as fuck.
But a pain in the ass.
Her stuff has taken over my space—a cat tower and far too many toys, bowls and water dishes and scratching posts and two litter boxes. But even though I bitched—bitch—about it, it’s kind of nice she’s here.
Plus, it’s not like I don’t have the room.
I just…connection, entanglements, responsibilities.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had any—outside of the business world, anyway.
Speaking of which, I focus back on my inbox, get through a couple more emails before my attention drifts again.
This time away from the worrying state of my animal-conversation-having mind and back to my favorite thing to think about.
River.
Except it’s not about her gorgeous face or that sweet ass of hers. It’s about the way she searched the shadows of that parking garage, how she checked the back seat of her car, the genuine fear in her eyes when I startled her.
I fucked up with her—tonight, last week, months ago.
Not a surprise.
I fuck up with everyone.
Sighing, I focus back on my emails, get through a few more before the silence begins to feel suffocating.
Usually, I prefer it this way.
Silence means predictability.
Control.
No surprises.
Tonight, even with Violet curled close, it just feels empty.
“Idiot,” I whisper.
The kitten’s purrs increase in magnitude, seeming to argue with me.
“You’re a softie,” I tell her.
Violet just cuddles closer.
I slog through a few more emails before my focus begins to slip again, so I switch to the quarterly reports my team just sent over.
At least they require me to concentrate, and the news is positive.
Despite dealing with cyber-attacks and corporate espionage attempts over the last year, earnings are up.
Probably because my team and I have managed to lock things down and get back to business as usual.
But I know the brief respite from the Lyon crime family’s attacks won’t last long.
Regardless of the threat, I have work to do, so I finish with the reports then review the latest security updates and earnings projections, struggle my way through the rest of my inbox.
When I’m finally done with all of that that, I set my computer aside and stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city’s lights glittering in the distance, my mind drifting right back to River Turner.
To her wide, frightened eyes. To her pert sarcasm. To that delicate pulse fluttering visibly at the base of her throat.
I should not have noticed that—any of it.
I should keep my distance.
And I definitely should not remember exactly how many freckles sit across the bridge of her nose.
Or the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s anxious.
Or the fact that her glaring at me makes me hard.
“Christ,” I bite out, curving my hand over Violet’s back and getting up, pacing over to the windows.
This is becoming a problem.
Not the attraction. That’s manageable. God knows, I have plenty of practice denying myself what I want.
It’s the rest of it that’s a problem.
The fact that I want to care and protect and shelter and touch and claim and keep.
I can’t go there.
It’s not safe for her. I’m not safe for her.
I want to be—fuck, I want that almost more than my next breath—but I’m not.
And I won’t burden her with the reality of me.
“I won’t,” I whisper as I rest my forehead against the glass and stare out into the darkness.
The city spreads out beneath me, a thousand sparkling lights, a thousand business conquests.
Power. Money. Control.
A cold reminder of what cannot be.
My jaw tightens and anger ripples through me, but a tiny, “Meow?” has me locking it down.
“It’s okay, little one,” I murmur.
“Meow,” Violet replies, as though she doesn’t believe me.
That’s okay.
Because I don’t believe myself either.