Chapter 5
Hilary Winthrop
Awareness prickles along my nape as Connor’s eyes lock on me while I greet my friends. As the wedding coordinator begins a tour of the venue, I ignore him and take vigil at the back of the group of single ladies.
I harden my heart around the sorrow pulsing through me.
My visit with my sister this morning proved worse than our phone call yesterday.
It hurt to watch her grow increasingly frustrated as her mouth refused to form the words in her mind and to hear her stumble through the same question over and over again.
She’s never been this bad before. Not even right after her injury.
Guilt, fear, and frustration fester within me, and I catch myself tuning out during the tour. Even admonishing myself doesn’t keep my mind in the present. When I miss a prompt and find myself standing alone amidst cloth-covered tables, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Hannah is alive. It’s okay if she has bad days. We all do. But I can’t shake the fear that she’ll deteriorate and never return to me. What if she forgets who I am? What if she forgets who she is? What if she forgets she has a sister?
Or worse, what if she remembers everything?
I swallow the lump in my throat and dab the wetness from my right eyelashes before opening my eyes. No matter how upset I am, this is my friend’s wedding rehearsal. I will not ruin the mood with my melancholy.
After plastering a fake smile on my face, I roll my shoulders back and spin toward the door.
Emerald orbs capture mine.
Connor Pen.
Like a predator playing with their cornered prey, he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes trained on me. His long legs and muscular forearms short-circuit my brain.
Every cell in my body buzzes to life. I curse my reaction—and his handsomeness—and force my mind away from dirty memories.
He quirks a mocking brow. The disappointment in his gaze pours acid down my spine.
“You’re distracted,” he accuses.
Red-hot anger slams through me.
“The correct word is distraught.” I curse myself for my lack of control. I shouldn’t engage with him at all, nor should I reveal so much.
With fury burning my insides, I lift my chin and aim for the side of the double doors he isn’t leaning against as I say, “We’re not at work, so it’s none of your business.”
Just as freedom seems plausible, he reaches out and traps my forearm in an iron grip.
My nipples harden in a rush and my core clenches. Liquid fire floods my panties.
Fucking sexy men and their goddamn long arms and impossibly strong hands.
I dig my nails into my palms and meet his intense green stare.
“Everything about you is my business,” he says.
My stomach bottoms out. I fill my lungs until my ribs ache and bite my tongue until the sensation passes. The diabolical delight shimmering in his emerald orbs as he watches me struggle only fans the flames of my fury.
I swallow and resist trying to yank my arm free. The leashed power in his grip reminds me of how easily he overpowered me at the hotel, and the last thing I want is to invite him to touch me elsewhere.
Thoughts of him pinning me against the doorframe or bending me over a table flit through my mind. Need thickens my blood and slickens my panties.
“I am your personal assistant, not your slave, Mr. Pen. Let go of my arm.”
I take pride in my cool tone.
“We aren’t at work, Hilary. Call me by my name,” he says.
“We aren’t friends either. This is assault. Get your hand off me,” I demand.
“Say my name, Hilary.”
I grit my teeth and give my arm an experimental tug. His lips curve in the wickedest smirk.
Feminine voices echo down the hall as my friends search for me.
Deciding this isn’t the time to argue over something so silly, I give him what he wants in the fakest way possible.
I tuck my emotions away and offer him a friendly smile.
“Please remove your hand from my arm, Connor. You’re hurting me,” I lie.
He releases me before two ladies turn the corner, but he crowds me against the doorframe and leans down just enough to whisper in my ear.
“You like when it hurts though, don’t you, my warrior queen?”
My mind blanks at the unexpected intimacy and reverence hidden within his taunt. Before I can retaliate, his long strides carry him down the hall.
With puzzled expressions, Karey and Millie greet me. I apologize, assure them I’m fine, then follow them to rejoin the tour.
After dipping in and out of a few rooms, the wedding coordinator gathers everyone where the ceremony will take place and instructs the couples to one side of the aisle and the singles to the other.
Mr. Pen ruins my attempt to join the singles side by grabbing my wrist and hauling me after him. When he merely tugs me to stand beside him instead of pulling me against his body, I decide to go along with it so as not to cause a scene in front of all my friends.
I grit my teeth and ignore the throbbing of my core as his signature leather-and-smoke scent invades my sinuses.
Despite all our years in close proximity, I can’t recall ever just standing next to him, so when my shoulder brushes his arm, awareness tingles along my nerves. Very rarely am I shorter than anyone else, so to have his shoulder above mine unnerves me.
I may not be wearing sky-high stilettos, but these shoes offer me an extra two inches of height, and he’s still at least two inches taller than me. The realization feeds the instinctual hunger pulsing through my veins.
I hate it. I hate how he commands so much of me without even trying. I hate how much effort it takes to suppress myself when I’m around him.
The big guy—Sebastian—approaches Penelope again. She cranes her neck to look up at him. Their size difference couldn’t be more extreme. He’s always the biggest guy in the room, while she’s always the smallest woman.
He gave her her ring back, but then monopolized her attention before the tour.
I don’t trust him any more than I do the high-handed asshole beside me.
Penelope makes a cutting remark—the tone strange from her usual soft-spoken manner—but the discomfort in her eyes pushes me into action.
Even as Sebastian speaks in his low, gravelly voice, I stomp across the aisle and stop beside him just out of his periphery.
“Is he picking on you again?” I demand.
Penelope pales and grabs Sebastian’s arm. Worry builds in my chest as she tugs him toward the couples’ side.
“No, not at all. His request is completely reasonable. I don’t mind,” she rambles.
Sebastian stops walking. She jerks to a halt.
The gentle reverence in his tone when he says her name arrows straight to my soul.
He could never hurt her. A lump forms in my throat.
He speaks, and she responds, but their words don’t matter. She already has something I’ll never get to experience.
Sebastian loves and cherishes Penelope. He’d rather cut his dick off than hurt her. The truth shines from his eyes and echoes in the way he protects and shields her with his body.
I swallow my envy, nod, and spin on my heel back to my jerk of a boss.
When Connor grabs my wrist and links our arms, I give him a disgusted side glare but decide to ignore the infraction. With my emotions frayed and my hold on my control tenuous, I stand in tense silence as the wedding coordinator pairs the remaining bridesmaids and groomsmen together.
Weight lifts from my chest when she ends the tour before choosing the order of couples, but when I try to step away from Connor, he tugs me back to his side and refuses to let go of my arm. My anger returns full force, and I lean into the power of it.
“The wedding rehearsal is over, Mr. Pen,” I say through gritted teeth.
He quirks a frustratingly goodlooking brow at me. I sigh and give him what he wants.
“Let go of my arm, please, Connor.”
He accepts my compliance even though it drips with overdone politeness and sweet mockery. I drop my arm and rub my hand on my leg as though to rid myself of germs as I walk away without a backward glance.
I’m not sure I can handle much more today. Maybe if it were a weekday and I expected to be on the clock at all times, but to have my boss amidst my friends is disorienting. I don’t like it.
Audrey steps into the room, and we flock around her. In her normal no-nonsense manner, she announces she’s pregnant.
My head spins. I clasp my hands in front of me and swallow as I work through the implications of her news. Karey squeals with excitement. Millie’s calm smile radiates joy with a hint of sorrow underneath. Penelope’s dermal piercings accentuate her wide, startled eyes.
Amidst hugs and exclamations, I gather myself and give Audrey a heartfelt hug when it’s my turn.
“Congratulations!” I say, and I mean it, even though a pit of tar bubbles in my gut.
“Thank you! I can’t believe I’m pregnant already.”
“How far along are you?” Brook asks.
Their excited shrieks peel through the banquet hall as they realize their due dates are fairly close together.
I blend into the background as much as possible. Babies are a happy subject, I know, but I never want any of my own. No man is worth that torture, and I refuse to be that vulnerable to anyone. Ever.
My mother’s screams echo in my mind. Nightmares creep into the day, but a demon with striking features and crystal-clear green eyes strides into my periphery.
Dripping gold and wearing dark slacks with his blouse halfway unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled to reveal his veiny forearms, he expels my terrors and replaces them with versions of his own.
My heart beats faster as fear and hunger pulse through me.
I angle my body away from him while keeping him at the edge of my vision and forcing myself to engage with my friends despite my urge to run as far and fast as possible.
I’ve never wanted to avoid this group of ladies before, not even when Brook announced her pregnancy, but after watching my sister struggle through my visit this morning, my emotions are too raw to handle the upheaval.
The doctors said Hannah’s condition would fluctuate and to expect good and bad days, but she hasn’t had this much trouble in a long time.
I don’t know how I’m going to get the money for the clinical trial in such a short time, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.
“What were you and that big guy talking about so seriously, Penelope?” Karey asks.
Penelope pulls her lip ring into her mouth and shifts her weight in discomfort as everyone turns their attention to her.
“A job offer. He wanted to hire me for a big expansion project.”
Fear for my friend spears through me.
Unexpected terror rises from my depths as I realize both Brook and Audrey met their husband and husband-to-be in a professional setting. Penelope is so small and timid, she doesn’t stand a chance against that big brute if he gets handsy.
And he already has. I scolded him yesterday for taking her beloved ring.
My fury tumbles from my lips before I think better of it..
“I can’t believe that jerk had the audacity to think you might even consider having him for a boss. You—”
“I accepted,” she interrupts.
I bite my tongue to stop my curse from exploding from my mouth.
“The terms are wildly in my favor. So much so, in fact, that I expect him to try to renegotiate before I sign a contract, but I’ll walk if he does,” Penelope says.
The certainty shining in her eyes reminds me of the determination she shows during self-defense class. She may be the smallest one in the group, but she masters each new skill long before the rest of us.
I swallow my misgivings but can’t help asking, “Are you sure about this?”
She nods, so I join the others in congratulating her.
Maybe I’m projecting myself onto her instead of giving her the credit she’s due, but the situation hits too close to mine.
If there’s something in the water or some sick law of attraction where boss and employee must end up together, I want absolutely nothing to do with it. Fate can fuck right off with that shit.
I will never have more than a professional relationship with my boss.
Ever.