Chapter 2
Two
June
“June?”
I spin around to find Blade hurrying toward me.
Coming here was a terrible idea. When he gave me his card last night and told me to call him anytime, I hadn’t expected to need him twelve hours later. I also hadn’t realized when he said he owned a protection agency that it would be this…extravagant.
As soon as I stepped through the front door, I knew Black Blade Protection would be way out of my pay range.
I’m on the fifteenth floor of a high-rise.
The receptionist looks like she belongs in a lawyer’s office.
She introduced herself as Rachell and was nothing but kind to me, but she’s wearing a fancy blouse, a pencil skirt, and spiked heels. Her hair is up in a twist.
To say I feel out of place is an understatement. I’m horrifyingly underdressed and underpaid for the likes of this agency.
“Come.” Blade gently cups my good elbow and leads me out of the reception area.
This place is large and spotless. The floors gleam. The lights are bright. There are over a dozen offices off this hallway, and Blade guides me to the open double doors at the end of it.
When I step inside, it’s hard not to gasp audibly. His office is huge. The view is amazing. I’m definitely way out of my depth here.
There’s a glass table with four chairs around it, two fancy leather armchairs, and a loveseat on the other side of the room. An enormous desk with four giant monitors sits in the middle. It also has two leather chairs across from it.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I mutter under my breath. This is madness. I can’t ask this man for help. People probably pay him more by the hour than I have in my bank account.
I’m tired. My entire body hurts. It took me over an hour to get dressed one-handed, and it wasn’t my dominant hand. That’s the one that’s broken.
My hair is a mess because lifting my one hand to comb it hurt too much.
I haven’t washed it in two days because how could I have managed that?
Luckily, it’s wavy and past my shoulders, so I can tuck it behind my ears.
Suddenly, I wish I’d stayed in my apartment, crawled under the covers, and slept all day.
Except I couldn’t rest after what happened this morning, and I’ve been shaking ever since. I have few options. One of them would be to go back to the women’s shelter I went to three years ago when I returned to Seattle.
Yeah, that’s really the only other option I could think of before I came here.
Blade shuts the double doors, guides me to the loveseat, helps me sit, and takes the spot next to me. His brows furrow as he cups my face.
That’s when the tears fall. I’ve fought them for over a day, but the dam breaks loose, and now I’m mortified. I can’t stop the avalanche of emotions from overflowing.
Blade scoots closer and surprises me by gently tucking one hand under my legs, supporting my back with the other, lifting me off the seat, and carefully arranging me on his lap.
He tucks my head under his chin and rubs my back.
“It’s okay, honey. Let it out. You’ve got to be exhausted. You’ve been so brave for so long.”
He has no idea how long I’ve been holding my shit together. Not for a day. Not for two days. More like for a thousand days or two thousand days. Exhausted doesn’t cover it. But the past day and a half pushed me to my limits.
Blade reaches across me and grabs a few tissues from the end table. What kind of guy has tissue boxes in his office? Does he get a lot of women who fall apart in his office?
Ridiculous. Maybe the man has allergies.
He gently tips my head back and dabs at my face before holding the soft tissues up to my nose. “Blow, honey.”
Blow? He wants me to blow my nose into his hand? Hell no. I reach for the tissues with my good hand, but he captures my wrist with the hand wrapped around me and lowers my arm to my side. “Blow, Little one.”
I do as I’m told. My thoughts are rampant. First of all, gross. But overriding that emotion is how unbelievably kind he is. I don’t know any man alive who would take care of me like this. Let alone one I just met.
He tosses the tissues on the seat beside him and cups my face. “How did you get here, honey?”
“Uber.”
He blows out a breath. “Good. I was worried you drove.”
“I don’t own a car.” I wince as those words leave my mouth. How the hell could I possibly pay his fees if I can’t even afford a car?
“Why didn’t you call? I could have come to you or picked you up if you needed. You should be resting in bed.”
I lower my gaze. I obviously don’t fit in here.
I’m sure he doesn’t get clients coming in off the street who look homeless.
I’m not actually unhoused, but I look it, especially today.
“I’m sorry.” I sniffle. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.
It was stupid.” I start to push off his solid thigh with my good arm so I can stand and run from my embarrassment, but he stops me with a hand on my thigh.
“Stay, Little one. Talk to me. I know you didn’t come here because you happened to be in the neighborhood. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I don’t know why he keeps calling me Little one. It’s an odd endearment. I guess it fits, though. He’s almost a foot taller than me, in addition to being broad and built like a brick building.
I also realize he’s not dressed for the setting, either. He’s wearing jeans, a tight black T-shirt with his company logo on the chest pocket, and black boots. Now that I’m looking directly at him, I start breathing heavily.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this attracted to a man in my life. He’s probably almost twenty years older than me. He’s got this silver fox thing going that surely melts women’s panties. I think his beard is prematurely white, though. It just adds to his appeal. I doubt he’s over fifty.
I lick my cracked lips. They’re sore from taking a hard slap to my mouth when I was attacked. “I should go. Forget I was here.”
He shakes his head, his hand firm on my thigh. “Not going to happen, honey.”
I look down and sigh heavily. The fact that he won’t let me go makes him even sexier. He needs to stop being so attractive. I can’t think when he’s so good-looking.
Granted, he was equally as intriguing yesterday, but I assumed my brain was addled from lack of sleep and being in pain. Apparently not.
“Did something happen this morning, June?”
I draw in a breath and slowly nod, still staring at my lap. “I was on the news last night and this morning. They put my face on the television.”
“Yeah, I saw. I’m sorry. It sucks that the media doesn’t check with people before putting their picture up.
” He tucks a finger under my chin and tips my head back again.
His brow is now deeply furrowed. “Are you worried about your attacker finding you? He won’t.
I promise. After the stunts he and his friends pulled, his bail is going to be set far too high for anyone to post it. ”
I swallow. “I’m not worried about him,” I whisper. I take a deep breath and look around his office again. “I…” I lick my lips again and wince. “I can’t afford your services. I’ll go to a women’s shelter. I’ve been to one before. They will help me. It’s what they do.”
Blade’s entire body stiffens. His hand grips my hip tighter. “Not a chance, June.” He lifts my chin. “Not. A. Chance. In. Hell. Tell me what or who you’re hiding from. I will protect you.”
“I can’t pay you,” I murmur.
He continues to hold my chin. “June, if you mention money one more time, my head will explode, and that will be messy. You’re not going to pay me for anything ever.
If you weren’t injured and in obvious pain, I’d be inclined to spank you now for repeatedly ignoring my question. Who’s looking for you, June?”
I gasp and hold my breath. His expression is deadly serious. Intense. He said a lot of words, but I’m stuck on one in particular. Did he really say he would spank me?
I shudder.
Spank?
I should be horrified. After all, the man I’m running from abused me. The mere mention of hitting me should have me jerking free of Blade and running out the door.
Instead, I’m gripping my thighs together because the idea of Blade spanking me makes my pussy flutter.
That’s confusing and irrational. I haven’t had a sexual thought in years.
I can’t even remember when I last felt attractive.
I didn’t know it was possible. I assumed I was dead inside. That part of me permanently ruined.
I haven’t even made eye contact with a man in years. It’s been more than three years since I’ve done either—feel sexual or look a man in the eye. I stopped doing both long before I left my ex.
Blade does things to me. It started the moment he sat next to me at the police station yesterday to keep me company. I was waiting to identify the man who attacked me two nights ago in a lineup. He was kind and patient and gave me every ounce of his attention.
I was so tired and in pain that I didn’t trust my reaction to him. But here we are, in his office, and my reaction to him today is even stronger.
He’s still holding my chin and gaze with an intensity I’ve never known. The word spank resonates in my ears over and over. My breathing is heavier. I can’t shake the feeling. Part of me wants to turn over across his lap and let him spank me. Is that what he meant? Over his knees?
What on Earth is wrong with me?
“June… Honey, I need information so I’ll know what I’m dealing with. The fact that you came all the way here this morning tells me this is important to you. It can’t have been easy for you to get dressed, let alone arrange for an Uber and brave the busy lobby downstairs.”
I swallow, shaking off thoughts of his palm on my bottom. “My ex,” I explain poorly.
He flinches. “Ex…boyfriend?”
I cringe. “Husband, and I guess he’s not really an ex because he refused to sign the divorce papers.”
Blade’s jaw tightens. “How long have you been separated?”
“Three years.”
His brows lift, and his voice rises. “The man hasn’t signed divorce papers in three years?”
I shake my head.
“I can get those papers signed. Are you hiding from him?”
“Yes,” I mutter.
“Tell me more, June. I need you to tell me everything. I can and will help you and keep you safe, but I need all the information you have.”
“I can’t afford you,” I remind him, wincing as soon as the words leave my mouth. He said…
Spank.
Jesus.
Spank.
Blade draws in a deep breath as though trying to control his reaction to my words. Not in a way that scares me. He doesn’t give me any vibes that he could be dangerous. Not with me. Not with any woman, I suspect. He wants to spank me for…disobeying him.
I’m a people pleaser. I always have been.
If I hadn’t been such a wussy pleaser, I never would have gotten married in the first place, nor would I have let Pete boss me around, take over my life, and destroy me.
It took me a long time to find a spine, and I’ll never go back to being the kind of woman who has no backbone.
One side of my head is screaming at me not to let Blade intimidate me. The other side insists that’s not what he’s doing. It’s something else. Something I don’t have words for.
It’s been years since I read a romance novel.
I used to read them all the time, especially after I moved out of Seattle with Pete and had nothing better to do with my free time than read.
I hid my addiction to erotic books from my asshole husband because he didn’t approve, but it wasn’t hard.
I downloaded books from the library or anywhere I could find that was free.
I didn’t have a credit card, nor could I have used one without him asking questions, but I was resourceful at finding books without him knowing.
Instead of reprimanding me again, Blade settles in the loveseat and gently nestles me against his chest. He rubs my back again and…holy shit, kisses the top of my head.
He doesn’t say a word about my mention of finances yet again.