Chapter 4 #2
He spins me so I face him, studying my eyes. His devastating good looks make it all the worse. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk?—”
“Okay, you don’t have to.” He places two fingers over my lips, making my heart skip a few beats. It’s as if he knows. “I’ll stand out here while you use the toilet.”
“That’s not necess?—”
“It may not be, but I’m gaun to anyway.” He tips his head toward the loo. “Go.”
My cheeks flame as I skulk off to the ladies’. While washing my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. What set me off just now?
I realize it was the feeling of having all my control taken away.
But then what brought me out of my living nightmare?
Having my control physically taken away.
I’ll give it to my husband-to-be: he has an excellent bedside manner. Calming, steadying, anchoring.
Shuddering in a breath, I step out and find him leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone.
His hotness makes my heart stop. The screen’s glow hitting his slate-grey eyes is like an early nineteenth-century etching I once saw of France viewed from across the Channel.
His Roman nose and full lips make my girly bits tingle.
Sliding his probing gaze my way, he straightens and pockets his phone. Without a word he presses a palm to the base of my spine and urges me back toward our group.
Though I’ve told Maw and Skye a bit about That Night, they don’t know about my episodes, and I don’t plan to spoil their evening now with the knowledge. Plastering a chipper smile on my face, I take a seat after Leith pulls out my chair.
Maw levels Leith with a serious look. “Since my daughter is basically marrying into the Syndicate, what guarantees do you make that she’ll be safe?”
“There are none, Yvaine.” Leith takes a calm sip of wine. “But she’ll be under my watch, and that’s as good a guarantee as you can get.”
That I’ll be neglected or murdered.
A shiver of anxiety rolls up my arms as I recall what he said on the phone earlier. I can do whatever I want with you, Flame, and the law will condone it.
“I’ll make sure Declan watches over you too.” Lachlan divides a canny look between Leith and me. “As my good friend, he’d never let anything happen to you.”
“Declan?” I glance between him and Leith.
“One of the four underbosses, son of Diran Ramsay,” Leith explains. “He’s also my good friend, willing to do anything for me.”
Lachlan and Leith exchange tense glares.
As Maw hands me a newly opened bottle of wine, I’m about to pour some in my glass, when Leith places a hand over the rim.
He slides the bottle from me and pours some wine in his own glass. “Have some water, Iona. You were coughing earlier, and you don’t want it to turn into a cold.”
Does he think I was having an anxiety attack just now?
At my affronted look he fans an arm out behind me, lifting his glass to his lips. “Pace yourself, Flame.”
If this man’s taunts don’t drive me insane, his controlling ways will.
“Leith, what sorts of cases are you currently working on?” Lowden asks, cutting up a roasted stuffed tomato.
“Only one at present. The Syndicate is trying to retrieve a list that was wrongfully taken from us that the COPFS claims isn’t ours.”
“What sort of list?” Lowden inquires.
“A list of contacts.” Leith’s brusque tone discourages further questions.
“Do you have to play detective in this sort of case?” Maw pushes her plate back.
“More storyteller, building a tale that stands up to the prosecutor’s attacks.”
“I’ll bet you’re verra good at that,” I snipe.
“I’m the best.” His air of quiet authority confirms his words.
“Was that what you did in your memoir?”
His lips twitch. “Readers are far more forgiving than a courtroom.”
“I imagine it’s frustrating in a court, not being able to control the narrative,” I goad.
As a rakish smirk unfurls across his lips, I clench my thighs together. “I never can resist a good challenge.”
He leaves no doubt he’s talking about me.
“What do you two have in common?” Lachlan poses, smiling into his wine.
“We both love our work.” Leith turns his glass around. “We enjoy reading, exercise, and travel.”
How did he know I love exercise and travel? Did he look into me?
“How long has this been going on?” Skye asks me directly.
About fifty-two hours, give or take.
“What is time, when you find the one you’ll spend the rest of your life with?” Leith brushes his fingertips to my bare arm, making a tremor vibrate through me.
But his words jolt me out of my fog of lust. I never wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
I’m forced to. Marriage is supposed to be based on love, not coercion.
Suddenly I have to upend my life, marry a man I don’t know, and become part of the freaking Syndicate.
He’s stalking me—researching me, following me to my family dinner—and worming his way into my life.
His motives for marrying me are highly dubious.
Since he’s already threatened to ruin me and my nearest and dearest, I suspect he wants to have me under his thumb.
Tears prick my eyes at the thought that I have to lie to my family. Not just now, but for the foreseeable future.
“How did you two meet?” Skye persists, clearly not believing our stories.
No wonder, when just nine days ago I was nervous about interviewing Leith.
“At one of my book conventions,” I say, minimizing the amount of lies I have to tell.
“When’s the wedding?” Lowden drains his glass, splitting an affable glance between us.
Since Leith remains silent, I realize the burden of shocking them lies squarely in my court. “Ehm, the twenty-second.”
Maw’s jaw hits the floor. “Of June?”
“Why so quickly?” Skye chokes out.
“Aye, why’re you in such a hurry?” Lachlan seconds.
A cruel smile plays about Leith’s lips. “Flame, you were the one who insisted on the early date. Why don’t you share the reason why?”
I grind my teeth, casting about for a likely reason that won’t make me look pathetic. I release a saccharine smile, inwardly glaring at him. “Leith is prone to rheumatoid arthritis. I didn’t want his joints to complain the whole wedding, so I picked the date least likely to be humid.”
Everyone blinks at me, then Leith.
One-nil for the home team.
With a dark chuckle he presses a flaming kiss to my temple.
“Her sense of humor never fails to pique. We’ll let you all in on the real reason.
After living alone for a couple of weeks, she’s keen to live with me.
What was it you said, sweetheart? I’m not cut out to live alone, and anyway I miss you too much when we’re not together. ”
How does he know I don’t like living on my own?
Appreciative murmurs swirl about the table. My family are eating up this romantic portrait.
Was this how he composed his memoir? Maybe Stennis was right, and it is mostly fiction. Though that’s the least of my concerns right now.
Somehow I manage to make it through another half-hour of awkward questions and even more cringeworthy answers.
When we’re saying our goodbyes, Maw asks, “Are you walking home, darling?”
“Yes—”
“I’ll give you a ride.” Leith wraps an arm about me.
Curse him for smelling like our childhood holiday home.
I start to protest. “It’s too near?—”
“You wanted me to look at your drain, remember?” He kisses the top of my head.
A flush seeps up my neck to my cheeks. We’re playing the model couple, when really I’d like to throttle him. Or flush him down his fictional drain.
Lowden divides a knowing smile between us. “Good luck with the drain.”
Skye kisses my cheek, her wounded look returning. “Call me, sis.”
Until now, we’ve told each other everything.
“I will,” I promise, guilt corroding my gut.
Leith leads me in silence to a white two-seater Ferrari that looks barely street-legal. Settling me in the passenger seat, he claps the door to and rounds the car, sliding gracefully behind the wheel.
“Guess my state of mind right now,” I seethe.
He throws the car in gear and backs out. “Why would I guess when I know? Forby, I have other, more pressing concerns.”
I knot my arms across my chest. “Such as?”
“Whether to trust that this baby will be safe parked on your street.”
Of course, he’s worried about his precious car.
“I can spare you the worry,” I huff. “You won’t need to park.”
I’d just as soon he not see my modest apartment. Compared to his mansion, it’s a poky hovel.
The brooding look he throws me is pure sin. “What’s the matter, Flame? Ashamed of where you live?”
“No!”
He pulls over in front of my building. “Then let’s go take a look at that faulty drain.”
“There is no faulty drain!”
“Are you sure?” He rolls his tongue in his cheek. “Have you had them all inspected recently?”
I can’t be sure, but I think he’s speaking in innuendo, something I grasp only in fictional realms.
A filthy chuckle falls from his lips as he flicks the tip of my nose. “What a bonnie blush. Come, wife.”
As he saunters around and opens my door, I wait for the panic to set in. Instead, my pulse ratchets up, and excitement fizzes in my lower belly.
Hundreds of men’s contact and proximity over the last four years have sent me into a tailspin of fear and anxiety. Why should Leith get a free pass?
Taking my hand, he snatches me into his body, making me lose my breath. “Show me your bit, Flame.”
He surrounds me like a furnace, solid and secure, the center of my gravitational field. I’m fused to his side, a magnet that’s found its polar complement.
As he guides me toward my own tenement, I feel like the visitor, while he’s the host.
1?afraid
2?clothes