Chapter 5 #2
I briefly close my eyes. “Let’s see. I could take a train to Connecticut, where my parents will open their door to find me wet and bedraggled, thus fully realizing their theory that I’m a lost cause only ‘in want of a husband.’” I use my best Pride and Prejudice voice, because yes, I am losing it a little.
“Sure, I could go there. Or I could ask to stay on the couch of my two normal siblings, who’ve moved across the country to get away from Sam and the shitstorm that seems to follow him everywhere.
But wait, I’d have to go to the airport first. Oh, I know!
I could stay at Sam’s place! The man who sent me into the fucking lion’s den to get murdered or kidnapped or…
” I trail off, feeling hot tears brimming. He really did that to me.
I lift my chin and shake my head so hard my wet hair flaps around my face. “No. I’m going home. Not just because I have nowhere else to go, but because I refuse to let fear rule me.”
I spent enough time doing that. Over too many years.
“I’ve got a doorman and a security guard. There are cameras at the front of the building and alarms at the back. I’ve got three locks on my apartment door, a cell phone that I managed to hang on to that has this amazing feature called numbers that dial 911, and a fire escape if it comes to it.”
I skip over the part where that paparazzo managed to evade all of that and knock on my apartment door that time.
“I’ll be fine. Now, are you going to move out of my way?”
Griffin’s been silent this whole time, and I see something like real worry flash across his face.
Is it for me? Or my sanity? Either way, as he stares at me with concern in his chocolate brown eyes, it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.
Or seeing…more to him. He’s not just the scruffy, rude, bossy-as-hell brother of my best friend’s boyfriend. He’s someone who showed up here for me.
“What were you doing in that restaurant, Griffin?”
He doesn’t break eye contact. He doesn’t even blink. But his eyes seem to shift somehow, like the color’s changing. I feel it dance across my skin.
At first, I’m not sure he’s going to answer me. Then he says, “We’ve been keeping tabs on Creelman.”
“Who’s we?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“A…spy?”
His lips twitch. “Not quite.”
“Was that a smile?”
“Not a chance.”
Heat sparks around us. That was a smile.
I guess there’s a part of me operating on pure hormones right now. Because for the first time, I can see clearly that he’s kind of hot.
No. I thought that before. This man is very hot.
He’s not pretty like his brother Jude or classically handsome like their other brother, Eli. He’s not the normal prep-school trust-fund country club type of man I’ve always seemed to end up with, either.
He’s altogether different.
Handsome but rough around the edges. Rough hands, rough voice.
Rough scruff across the chin I have to fight not to reach up and touch.
Under that scowl, there’s an aura of strength I’ve never felt before.
But it’s not just brute strength. It’s tightly wound anger, honed into this powerful, taut frame, and under that, the most remarkable thing.
“You care,” I whisper. I see the softness in his eyes, under all those layers of hard exterior.
He frowns even harder. “About what?”
About me.
But that’s ridiculous. He doesn’t know me. He cares about doing the right thing. Protecting the vulnerable. Rescuing stupid women who agree to go on dates with criminals as a favor to brothers who don’t care.
I drop my gaze. “I have to go. Can you please move out of my way? I’m freezing and tired and I just want to go home.”
He hesitates a moment longer, and I have the strangest thought: Griffin Kelly is a mistake. The kind of man you might remember years later as your favorite mistake.
“Fine,” he says, his voice low. But he doesn’t move out of my way.
Instead, he reaches into his jacket and slips his hand into his breast pocket.
He pulls out what looks like a business card.
It’s on thick card stock, only there’s nothing on it except a single phone number.
He holds it in two fingers, angling it at me.
I don’t take it.
“Sasha,” he says, lifting up my good hand. There are those rough fingers again, the warm palm as it cradles the back of my hand. He presses the card into it, wrapping my fingers around it with a gentleness I would have thought impossible from a man like him.
He looks me in the eye once more. This time, there’s no concern. There’s only seriousness. “If you ever feel unsafe—for any reason at all—call this number. Even if it’s just a feeling, call. You’re not alone, Sasha. Wherever you are, I’ll find you.”
I nod.
Finally, reluctantly, he steps aside. Then, before I move, I hesitate. Then I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss the rough stubble of his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper, meaning it more than I’ve meant anything in my life.
When I walk toward the line of cabs across the street, I feel Griffin’s eyes on my back. I also feel his tentative grip on my hips as I did that, their warmth seeping through my wet dress. But most of all, I feel his words wrapping around me the way his hand wrapped around mine.
You’re not alone, Sasha. Wherever you are, I’ll find you.