I watched Stephanie crumble before my eyes. The barrier she’d used to keep me and fucking everyone away since she came out of the hospital scattered like rubble at our feet.
Christ, I wanted to pull her into my arms so badly, hold her, comfort her as flashes of memory of how I’d found her on that bathroom floor, bleeding, fucking dying in my arms, invaded my mind. She didn’t want that from me, though. She’d made that clear. She knew I could and would protect her, however.
“You’ve seen him?” I forced past the rage riding me, trying to keep it from my voice. The last fucking thing I wanted was to scare her even more.
She shook her head, trembling so hard her teeth were chattering. “H-he left me gifts—chocolates, a rose, a note.” She drew in a ragged breath. “A text. He’s been watching me at the club. It was him, I know it was.” She shook harder. “You have to believe me, Tomas. You have to…”
Fuck it. I tugged her into my arms, unable to keep my distance any damn longer. She froze and I fucking hated it. I didn’t want to let her go. “I believe you, Angel.”
She relaxed a little in my arms and I had to work at keeping my breathing even. Some would see it as insignificant, but to me it was goddamn monumental. I rubbed slow circles on her back, not sure how to comfort her but wanting her to stay right the hell where she was. I hadn’t done a lot of it, comforting others, in my life. The last time was a year ago when I held her against my chest, waiting for an ambulance, telling her she was going to be okay, while I silently prayed that was the truth. I hadn’t done a lot of that either, not since I sat in a church as a small boy and begged God to bring my mother back to me.
To take my father instead.
Stephanie had lived. But that was no thanks to me, and no thanks to God. Where the curvy redhead was concerned, I’d fucked up at every turn.
I breathed her in, taking in the intoxicating scent of her hair, her skin, and silently vowed that she would never be frightened ever again.
I’d almost lost her once, and since that day I’d treaded carefully, so damn carefully. It wasn’t in my nature to hold back, to not go after what I wanted. But I had no damned idea what I was doing where Stephanie was concerned. There was no stronger proof of that than the mess I’d made of things since that day.
“You can stay here,” I said.
I was holding her too tight, but the fear was still riding me. I wanted to pick her up and carry her to my bed, hold her all night, reassure myself that she was safe. Instead, I reluctantly let her go, not wanting to freak her out.
She blinked up at me. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight until I’m sure it’s safe,” I said, and I made sure she heard the truth in my words, that there was no room for arguments, not in this.
She didn’t even try, which proved just how terrified she truly was.
The rage burning in me grew even more intense. Ryan had lost his mind if he thought I’d allow him anywhere near her. I’d wanted him dead after what he did to her a year ago. I’d had him hunted down, had made him fucking scream, bleed, but I’d let him live. For Stephanie’s sake, I’d left him breathing. I didn’t want her carrying around that asshole’s death, that weight on her shoulders.
I’d fucked up. I should have buried the peace of shit.
I stared down at her, still working at keeping my breathing even, which wasn’t easy when all I could think about was what could have happened to her. She should have been here with me. She should already be mine. Christ, I fucking hated this.
For a long time I’d been taking what I wanted. I ran my territory without mercy, demanded then earned the respect, the fear I saw in people’s eyes when they looked at me. But I’d never wanted anything as much as I’d wanted Stephanie Gable. As much as I wanted her still. I’d wanted to make her mine since the first time I laid eyes on her, standing in her father’s driveway when I pulled up in my car for my first day of work. But I’d never believed I was good enough for her. So I’d walked away, left her with Ryan, not knowing what a monster he truly was. Thinking, believing, anyone was better than me.
I’d been wrong, so fucking wrong.
And I’d been trying to get through to her, un-fucking-successfully, since she got out of the hospital. She wasn’t business, or territory, or real estate. For once I couldn’t have what I wanted. I couldn’t just take it. And I sure as hell couldn’t force her to want me back, demand she return my feelings. I didn’t want that even if it was possible.
So I’d given her time—never pushed, not once—had waited for her to let me know she was ready for something more. She hadn’t. And after being away for two weeks, missing her, craving her, I’d walked back into that club damn near out of my mind from wanting her, my control shot—and she’d seen it, felt it, and she been scared of me. The intensity of my feelings for her had scared her.
I’d rather give up a limb than that. Never that.
It’d nearly killed me, but I decided to pull away, for both our sakes. Walking away from her and out of that club, knowing I wouldn’t come back the next day, had been the hardest thing I’d done in a long fucking time.
And in doing that, I’d left her unprotected. I’d failed her. Again.
“Tomas?”
Her voice pulled me out of my own head, alerting me to the fact that I’d been standing here fucking staring at her. “Yeah?”
“This is…thank you for letting me stay. I didn’t have time to pack anything. I came straight here after work.”
“I’ll get you anything you need.” Christ, her eyes were gorgeous. Bright green. Stunning. “All you have to do is ask.”
Those beautiful eyes filled with unshed tears as she nodded, and I curled my fingers into tight fists so I didn’t reach for her. I wasn’t letting her go again. Fuck that, I was keeping her here with me where she was safe, where I could protect her. Where she belonged.
Stephanie had come to me. She’d chosen me. She hadn’t gone to Raul, or Willa, or one of the other girls or bouncers at the club. She’d come to me. When she’d been afraid, had felt threatened, alone, it was me she ran to. There was a reason for that, whether or not she was ready to admit it to herself or not.
Which meant everything had just changed. I wasn’t going to push too hard, but I sure as fuck wasn’t going to pull away from her either. If she needed time, she could have all the time in the world, but I wasn’t pretending anymore that what I felt for her was anything other than what it was.
The raw honest truth was all I was capable of showing her now. I couldn’t pretend or suppress what I was feeling any longer.
“I can’t believe he’s back. Why? Why won’t he leave me alone?” she said, hugging herself.
“I promise you, you’re safe here with me. Nothing, no one can touch you here.” Not even me. Not unless you ask. “I won’t let him come anywhere near you. I’ll kill him first,” I said.
A shiver moved through her, but she didn’t look frightened by my words. No, she looked relieved. Stephanie trusted me. She trusted me with her life.
Did she have any idea what she’d just done? What she’d just given me?
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I gritted my teeth. I fucking hated how broken she sounded, how all the strength she’d worked so hard to build had been decimated. That voice, that small, broken voice was back. The voice I’d heard when she woke in her hospital bed and cracked my heart wide open. I thought it was nothing but a shriveled husk in my chest until that day.
I tried, and failed, at keeping the growl of rage vibrating through me from my voice, the white-hot fury pumping through my veins. “Don’t thank me, Angel. You don’t ever have to thank me.”
Ryan was going to pay, and he wouldn’t walk away this time.
Stephanie
I woke to sun streaming through the window. It took me a moment to work out where I was, then it all came rushing back. Coming here in the middle of the night…
Breaking down in front of Tomas.
Humiliation burned my face. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that, but especially not Tomas. I threw an arm over my eyes. My life was a mess. Ryan had slithered from whatever hole he’d been hiding in, and Tomas…
I remembered how he’d looked last night when he’d come down those stairs, all fierce and strong and pissed off on my behalf. How he’d felt against me when he pulled me in tight against his warm, hard body to comfort me.
My belly flipped low down.
Did he…could he really want me like that? Did he really see me as more than some…some broken shell, a victim? I thought about the last time I danced for him, and electricity zapped through my belly, lower.
You’d think the fact that I danced for a living, took my clothes off in front of people, would mean I was this…this sex kitten, the kind of woman who was in touch with her sexual side. Strong and confident. And I hated that Tomas had seen me break down last night, that he got a glimpse of the truth beneath the show, the pretense I put on at work.
Because the truth was the opposite. The last time I’d had sex? I swallowed audibly. I didn’t want to think about it.
The last time I’d had an orgasm?
I couldn’t remember.
Ryan liked to withhold them, and I’d been punished the first time I admitted to my husband that I’d gotten myself off. I thought he’d find the admission sexy, exciting. Instead, Ryan had been jealous, positive I’d been thinking of someone else when I’d come, and had forbidden me from doing it again. I’d convinced myself he’d know if I’d touched myself because he always seemed to know everything. And he’d been right. I’d lied about it to him, of course, but I had thought of someone else.
A tattooed crime boss, who I’d learned last night wore black pajama pants so low it should be a crime. A man who was so ripped he looked carved from marble. Yeah, I’d cast Tomas in the starring role of every one of my fantasies since I’d first laid eyes on him.
My shy admission to Ryan that I’d made myself come while he wasn’t there had started a new kind of punishment. His very own brand of correction therapy.
A shudder moved through me.
I barely felt like a woman anymore, let alone a sexual creature. How could Tomas see me like that when I didn’t feel that way about myself?
Shoving back the covers, I pushed everything from my mind and sat up, taking in my room properly for the first time. Last night, after Tomas led me upstairs and steered me toward the bed, I’d crawled under the covers and tried to pretend this nightmare wasn’t happening. The fact that I’d actually fallen asleep—I checked the phone—and slept in—shit—said far more than I wanted to acknowledge.
My coming here in the first place said things I didn’t want to delve too deeply into. The truth was nowhere and no one else made me feel safe like Tomas did. That freaked me out for several reasons.
I shook off those thoughts as well.
The bedroom was big; the carpet, curtains, and duvet cover white. The furniture was dark wood, expensive looking, probably antiques. I’d known where Tomas lived, because he made sure I knew. He’d told me to come to him if ever I needed him, but I’d never been inside before.
I’d even gone as far as having a cab drive me past more than once. Which was something else I didn’t want to think about.
I stood and went to the window, looking down at people moving about on the street below. Inside was silent, still, calm, the last thing I expected Tomas’s home to be. I opened one of the doors in the room and found a bathroom, bigger than the one in my apartment—a lot bigger. There were double doors as well. I opened them next. A closet.
And sucked in a breath.
My bags were there. I knelt down to check them out. All my clothes, all of them, had been packed up and brought here. And not just my clothes, my makeup and toiletries, my jewelry.
I rummaged through my stuff, pulled on leggings and a tank top, and strode out of the room and down the stairs.
“Would you like breakfast, Miss Gable?”
I jumped and spun around. The gray-haired dude from last night had materialized out of nowhere and was smiling at me.
“Um…no, thank you.” I smiled back. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name last night.”
He dipped his chin a little. “Arthur.”
“Nice to meet you, Arthur. And please, call me Steph,” I said.
His smile widened. “Of course.”
I liked Arthur instantly. He had a nice face and kind eyes. “Is Tomas still here?”
“He is.” The guy frowned. “But I really think you should eat something first.”
“Maybe later?” I said.
“I’ll leave something in the fridge for you.” Arthur motioned across the hall to a set of double doors. “Tomas is in his office, through those doors. And no need to knock. He was waiting for you to wake,” he said gently.
“Thanks, Arthur.” I strode to the doors and, straightening my spine, pushed them open. Tomas looked up from his desk as soon as I walked in. My step faltered when his dark eyes locked on mine.
He was sitting behind his desk, wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled up his corded, inked forearms. It was undone at the collar, giving an enticing glimpse of the tattoo on his chest. He sat back in his seat, his mahogany eyes moving over me, giving me a head-to-toe, and for once his expression wasn’t blank. I wasn’t sure what I saw in his eyes, but it made my heart race faster.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, gaze moving over my face, my hair, my eyes down to my mouth, where it lingered for several seconds before moving back up to my eyes.
I crossed my arms, shifting from foot to foot. He made me nervous…but not in a bad way. I never knew how to be around him. He’d never given me anything—nothing I could read. This morning, though, he was giving me a whole lot—and I was sure I had to be seeing things. “I slept fine.”
“Hungry?”
I shook my head.
Tomas frowned like Arthur had.
“You got my stuff last night.”
He nodded.
“All of my stuff.”
He stood, moving out from behind his desk, then leaned against the front of it. He wore dark trousers that clung to his solid thighs, and the muscles flexed when he rested his hands either side. He had long fingers, not elegant; blunt and scarred and rough.
“Yeah,” he said.
“All of it,” I said again.
His lips curled up on one side. “I want you to have everything you need while you’re here,” he said, those dark eyes not straying from me.
“How long am I staying?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You’re your own woman, Stephanie. That’s entirely up to you. You can stay here as long as you need. I’d really like to ensure your safety before you leave, though.”
I realized I’d just tried to hand him power, control over me. Why the hell had I done that? What was wrong with me that I expected, and worse, was ready to except whatever Tomas said to me? God, when I took a metaphorical backward step, it was giant sized.
“How do you plan on ensuring my safety?” I said, unable to hold his direct stare.
“I have people looking for him now.”
The way Tomas said him, refusing to say Ryan’s name, all fierce, with a whole lot of banked fury, had my breath catching in my throat. I liked it way too much. “And what will you do when you find him?”
He pushed away from the desk and took several steps toward me until he was two feet from me. “That is up to you.”
I jolted. “Me?”
He nodded.
My breathing grew unsteady. “What if I wanted you to break both his legs?” I had no idea why I asked that, but I wanted to know what Tomas was capable of. I’d heard the stories, things that should have had me running from not to him. I didn’t know what that said about me, but those stories didn’t scare me. They made me feel even safer with him.
He grinned, and it was dark and sexy and terrifying. “I’d break his fucking legs and I’d enjoy every one of his screams.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, fighting my instincts to step back.
“I’m not a nice man, Stephanie, or a good man. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, bad things. But I have never, and would never, hurt a woman. Ever.” He took another step closer.
I held my ground, stuck in place.
He lifted his hand slowly, like I was a frightened rabbit, and cupped my cheek. I dragged in another breath at the rough warmth of his skin against mine. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will never hurt you, not in any way.”
I nodded, caught in the depths of his dark eyes. I knew it deep in my bones. I’d always known it. “I feel safe here with you,” I said, giving away more than I had to anyone for longer than I could remember.
His hand slid around to the back of my neck, his fingers sliding into my hair, his thumb gliding over my jaw, making me shiver. “That’s good, Angel. You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”
He stared down at me in a way that had me swaying slightly toward him. His fingers flexed lightly, then he let me go and stepped back.
I quickly straightened. “I, ah…I have work in a couple of hours. Do you have a key or something I can use to get back in? I’m working a double. I’d hate to wake Arthur again.”
He crossed his arms, his biceps straining his shirt sleeves. “Do you really think you should work?”
“My rent won’t pay itself.” I crossed my arms as well. “If Raul knows what’s up, has the bouncers keep an eye out, and one of the guys walks me to a cab after work, I’ll be fine,” I said, waiting, positive Tomas would put up a fight.
His head tilted to the side, and he studied me. “The cash I found stashed in your drawer at your apartment, it’s the money I gave you, isn’t it?” he said instead.
I nodded, curling my fingers into a fist, letting my nails dig in. “I planned on giving it back to you.”
“Why?” he asked.
I chewed on my lip. I didn’t want to tell him the real reason: that I stopped needing it a long time ago, that I let him think I did so he’d keep coming back. Instead, I said, “Because I owe you, not the other way around.” Which was also the truth.
He continued to stare at me like he was waiting for more. I squirmed under that stare. “So, um…do you have a key?”
“You won’t need one,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ll be with you.”
“Pardon?”
“I plan on making sure you continue to feel safe, Stephanie,” he said. “And if that means I work from a table at Stilettos today and every day you work, then that’s what I’ll do.”