I take Jake's hand and step out of the black Mercedes SUV.
Alex sent his car to pick me up and take me to the firm's annual charity gala. Once again, his simple romantic gestures make my head spin, and I try to figure out what it all means. I might want to be a let-it-happen girl, but my overly analytical brain still butts in and demands answers.
"Thanks," I say to Jake.
"My pleasure, ma'am." He hands me a business card. "Just call when you're ready to leave, and I'll take you home."
I place the card in my sequined clutch. "Okay, sounds good. But please call me Kylie."
I walk into the ballroom. Exposed red brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows contrast beautifully with the cream and black sheer material artfully draped around the ballroom. In the center of the room is a dance floor. D & R dances across it from the overhead spotlight.
Many of the guests are seated around the small round tables. Gold lamps provide a soft glow to the small pockets of intimate conversation areas around the dance floor.
Along the back wall is a stunning oak bar manned by three bartenders. Mirrors along the back reflect the twinkling city lights through the windows.
Huddled on one side of the bar, I discuss the possibility of an NHL lockout with three of my male colleagues. I don’t have many female friends, and most of the women in my firm are either too young to have anything in common with or are married and only want to discuss babies and decorating their homes. I finish my second martini and head to the bar for another.
A body moves in close to my side. John slips his arm around my waist.
"Don't touch me," I say through clenched teeth, and back away.
He raises his hands in surrender. I glance around. The last thing I want is for anyone to see the scuffle between us.
Leaning casually against the bar, John takes a drink from the glass the bartender has placed in front of him.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Kylie. How could you possibly want to date that arrogant asshole Stone when I'm here, ready to forgive you for walking out? He reaches over and places his hand on my arm. My skin crawls, and I yank my arm away. He scowls. “I just don't understand you."
"I will never come back to you, John. Never."
A sly smile plays across his lips. "Never say never, Kylie."
His eyes darken, and I recall how quickly he can become enraged. Ice rushes through my veins. I want to scream at him to leave me alone, but no words come out. Instead, I turn sharply away and put as much distance between us as possible. Things around me are unfocused, blurry, and I run smack into a man's chest.
"I'm so sorry," I murmur.
Strong hands wrap around my upper arms and steady me. I lift my head and gaze into the most dazzling blue eyes—eyes I've been dreaming about all week.
"Alex," I whisper on an exhale.
He slides his arm around my waist, and draws me against his body. "Everything okay?" He glances over my shoulder at John and then returns his gaze to me.
"It is now." I wish I could wrap my arms around him and never let go. I want to bury my head in his chest and breathe him into me. Grab his hand and run away together. Somewhere far away from John.
Alex slides his hand into mine and leads us onto the dance floor. The muscles in his forearms, shoulders, and neck look tightly wound, and tension rolls off him in waves.
"When did you get back?" I ask.
Alex looks at me, but he's a million miles away. I want to crawl into his head and see if he deals with the same demons I do, but in the blink of an eye, he's back with me.
"I just got in. I came straight here from the airport."
"You’re back early. Did things go well in Toronto?"
He peers over at the bar. I squeeze his hand, and he looks at me.
"The trip ended up being highly successful, as you will undoubtedly read about in the papers within the next couple of weeks." His voice still has a bit of an edge to it.
I place my finger on his chin and peer directly into his eyes. Now that he's here, the last thing I want is for John's presence to interfere with this moment.
Alex smiles and pulls me closer. "Do you have any idea how much I missed you?" he whispers in my ear.
"A really good one, if it's anywhere close to how much I missed you."
The music starts, and he gently swings me around the dance floor. Nothing exists but the two of us. His ability to distract me is almost scary.
"Have we made enough of an appearance?" His warm breath teases my ear and sends fingers of pleasure straight to my core.
I glance around the ballroom. Nearly all eyes are on us. Some whisper and point. Others are just flat-out gawking. There's no doubt Alex and I will be the number one topic of office gossip in the morning.
"More than enough." My body heat rises, and a hot shiver of anticipation rolls through me at the thought of being alone with him. I'm already addicted to the way he touches me. Kisses me.
"Let's go before I lose all self-control right here on this dance floor," Alex growls.
"I need to go to the ladies' room."
"I'll say our good-byes to the heavy hitters, drop off a donation with Jack, and meet you back here. Don't take long, or I'll come in after you."
A mischievous, seductive smile slides across his face, and my heart stops.
I raise my eyebrows. "Is that a threat, Mr. Stone?"
"Bona fide promise, Miss Tate."
Thoughts of highly indiscreet actions on the ladies' room counter distract me as I walk down the dimly lit hallway, and I nearly run into a shadowy figure that steps out of the darkness in front of me.
My skin prickles. I try to move past, but hands grasp tightly around my upper arms.
John's glare burn into me. "Leaving so soon, Kylie? The party's just getting started."
My chest tightens. I can't swallow past the lump lodged in my throat.
"Where are you going, Kylie? To fuck that billionaire asshole?"
"John, leave me alone." I claw at his hand. If I can just get him to loosen his grip, I might be able to break free.
He digs his fingers into me. I cry out. My heart is pounding. He drives me backward and hurls me against the wall. All the air rushes from my lungs.
He leans into me, pins me to the wall, and prevents any escape. I struggle to catch my breath. My back aches from the impact, and sharp daggers of pain plunge in and out of my head.
Please, let someone come around the corner and see us. It’s the only way I’ll survive.
Wrapping a hand around my throat, he presses his fingers into my flesh. His grip tightens, slowly cutting off my air like a vise collapsing a pipe. Bit by bit, until my windpipe is crushed.
I can't speak. I can't scream. Soon, I won't be able to breathe.
I'm going to die. He's actually going to kill me.
"John," I gasp, but it’s barely a whisper. "Please let me go."
I'm frantic, pulling at his fingers. But he's too strong. And too determined.
He brushes his lips against mine. "And what if I don't? What if I never let you go, Kylie?"
Suddenly, John's hand drops from my throat. His body slams against the wall opposite me.
John tries to scurry away, but Alex, towers over him, is on him in a heartbeat and traps him.
Alex wraps his hand around John's throat. "How does it feel, asshole?" Alex's voice is low and controlled. "You get your kicks from strangling women? Think you're a big, tough guy? Think you're man enough to take me on?"
John gasps for air. I can smell his fear. He flits his eyes wildly over to me, and pleads with me to help him. It's a wasted effort. I have no sympathy for him.
I want him to feel the same pain he just inflicted on me.
Laughter comes from the ballroom and pulls me back to reality. The last thing we need is for anyone to come upon this scene and misunderstand what's happening.
I step behind Alex and place my hand on his back. "Please, let's go."
Alex releases John. He breathes deeply, but it's ragged. Grabbing John by the lapels of his jacket, Alex lifts John to his feet. Once standing, Alex punches John in the stomach, and he crumples to the floor again.
Bending over, Alex grabs John by the back of his hair and yanks his head back. "If you ever touch Kylie again, I'll kill you."
John's eyes grow wide and mirror my own.
Alex turns to me. There's so much rage in his eyes. I gasp and hold my breath. My body is rigid, and I’m terrified at the thought of not being any safer with him than John.
He grabs my hand, and we briskly walk down the hallway, pass by the entrance of the ballroom, and make a beeline toward the lobby. Alex has a tight hold on my hand, and I'm struggling to keep up. My heart is pounding, I'm shaking uncontrollably, and I'm about to shatter into a million pieces.
"Alex, slow down. You're pulling me." My voice is raspy, and it hurts to talk. "Alex!" I jerk my arm back to get his attention.
He doesn't stop until we are outside the hotel. The muscles in his neck twitch, and his mouth is set in a firm, hard line. I twist out of the lock he has on my wrist and try desperately to get my breathing under control.
He looks at me, exhales, and drops his shoulders.
"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, and he caresses my cheek.
No! I want to scream. Tears brim my eyes. I'm unable to speak for fear of completely coming apart.
"It's okay, baby," Alex murmurs, and places tender kisses on my lips. He's so caring, a complete contradiction to his mood just moments before. "He won't ever hurt you again. Never."
This is the man I've come to know. The sweet, kind, caring man who has stolen my heart. But there is another side to Alex—protective, cold, and violent.
That violence just saved my life.
He smiles and squeezes me gingerly against him. "Let's go home."
Alex directs Jake to drive to my house so I can pack some things. When Alex said we were going home, he meant his house, and I don’t have the strength to argue with him. The thought of being alone scares me.
I grab clothes and throw them into an overnight bag. Alex sits on my bed and watches me, but I can tell he's not really paying attention. We both seem to be going through the motions. I'm nearly paralyzed by the disbelief that John attacked me in such a public place. Alex protected me but was consumed with rage.
It's a quiet ride through the darkness to Alex's house. He's holding my hand, but we're both looking out opposite side windows. The stars are bright and sparkle in the clear night sky. It seems odd in the wake of all the trauma that occurred. If this were a movie, dark storm clouds would snuff out any light. The wind would whip the trees around with ease, and the rain would pelt us without mercy.
But this isn't a movie. It's just one more event in my life that I can't seem to escape. I stare at the twinkling stars, but all I can see is the rage in each man's eyes.
Warning bells clang in my head. I could easily fall back into the darkness—let it close in around me. Protect me from the visions. John's rage was directed at me. Alex's was directed at John.
Would Alex ever turn it on me?
Ice travels through my veins. I can't stand the thought of Alex pushing me down, hitting me, beating me to a bloody pulp. I shudder.
Alex stirs next to me, takes a deep breath, and strokes his face.
"Are you cold?" he asks, and gathers me into his side.
I bring my legs up onto the seat, rest my head on his shoulder, and curl into him. He wraps his arms around me, runs his hand through my hair, and kisses the top of my head. I want him to take care of me, accept his gentle touch, and believe he will protect me from John. But I have so many doubts that anything good can come from this.
I close my eyes and let his warmth envelop me. I need to block out the thoughts running through my head.
Tomorrow. Deal with it tomorrow. Things always look better in the light of day.
The SUV pulls to a stop in a circular drive. The entrance to Alex's home is warmly lit and inviting. We climb the stairs leading to the veranda. Tall white columns frame the two-story entrance, and Alex pushes open the oak-and-glass front door.
My heels click against the travertine tile in the foyer. Alex holds my elbow and guides me into a round room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The dark night, however, doesn't afford a glimpse of what lies beyond.
Two half-round sofas face each other with a round coffee table between them. I sit and sink into the deep velvety cushions. Alex removes his jacket and tie. He unfastens the top button of his shirt and rolls up his sleeves.
A huge stone fireplace fills one wall. A large gold-framed mirror leans against the mantel and stretches to the ceiling. I tip my head back and gaze at the large crystal chandelier that hangs from the center of the rotunda.
Alex sits on the edge of the coffee table, peers into my eyes, and smiles.
My thoughts are as scattered as my emotions. My best option is to curl into the couch and rock myself to sleep. A part of me wants to run away as fast as I can, far away from here. I'm scared I will never feel safe, never be able to trust another man. But it's shame that overwhelms me.
Alex gently lifts my chin and inspects my neck. His fingers glide over my skin, but it's still too painful, and I flinch. His eyes darken.
Tears loom. I swallow hard and try to keep them at bay. The harsh movement of my throat grabs Alex’s attention. He shifts his eyes, and his lips find mine. It's a tender, healing kiss, and it eases my fears.
He caresses my cheek and pulls back. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Shaken but not broken." I manage a weak smile.
"How's your back? He tossed you against that wall pretty hard." He moves beside me on the sofa, pushing my jacket down my arms. "Does it hurt?"
"I'm okay." The words are not even out of my mouth, and he has my jacket pulled down.
It's only a matter of time before he sees the marks on my back. Visions of blood—so much blood—crowd my mind. I close my eyes. I can't go there right now. I can't deal with the memories of that night.
His fingers delicately skim over my flawed skin. Every muscle stiffens.
"I think you're good. I don't see any redness or bruising."
"It doesn't hurt, Alex. I'm fine." My breathing quickens. I squirm, trying to free my arms.
His fingers continue to explore my back, his light touch running over a small deep indent in my skin.
"What the hell?" he murmurs.
He sees them. The imperfections that dot my back. The marks of my shame.
I'm light-headed and dizzy, trembling with the same fear I had when those marks were fresh and new.
I jerk away from him and pull my jacket up over my back and shoulders. Quickly, I cross the room and stand in front of the fireplace. My firm grip on the mantel keeps me from falling into a heap on the floor.
Excruciatingly painful memories crest, threaten to flood my mind and drown me. The darkness coaxes me, eager to imprison me where no one can hurt me, where no one can find me. A place where even Paul and Ryan couldn't reach me for a very long time.
"Kylie?" Alex's voice is soft and temporarily halts my descent into the dark.
I'm unable to move, unable to talk, unable to even look at him.
"Kylie." His voice is firm. Standing behind me, he rests his hands gently on my shoulders. "Hey, Kylie. Please look at me."
He tries to turn me around, but I resist. He knows. Alex knows I'm damaged. What will he think when he discovers I allowed John to mark me? It's more than I can stand—the disappointment, the disgust. The contempt I fear will be in his eyes.
"Kylie."
"Please, Alex, no. I can't do this." I'm so confused, so lost. I'm frightened the memories of that night will break free from the meticulously built and carefully maintained box in my mind.
Alex wraps his arms around my shoulders, across my chest, and embraces me. He's quiet, and I relax against him, tears streaming down my face.
"It's okay. I'm here," he whispers, his lips against the back of my head.
I feel safe and warm in his arms. I want him to take care of me. Need him to convince me that everything will be okay.
Tonight, he's offering me a safe haven, and I'm going to take it.
I turn and bury my face in his neck, still not ready to face him.
He places his hands along the sides of my head. "Baby, please talk to me."
I shake my head. "I can't. I'm so sorry, Alex. I can't talk about it."
"Kylie, look at me." He pulls my arms from around his neck, grasps my chin, and lifts it.
Before I can turn away, his lips crash against mine. He's rough, demanding at first, but then softens. It's a sensual healing. I relax and give in to him.
He breaks away, and rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. "We don't have to talk unless and until you're ready—only then. But you're safe with me. There's nothing that will make me feel anything less for you. I might not know exactly what you've dealt with, but I know you're scared. You don't ever have to feel that way with me." He lifts my chin so our eyes finally meet, and he swipes away a tear.
The heaviness in my chest dissipates. For tonight, I'll trust in Alex and what he's saying.
Tomorrow is a new day, and things always look different in the light.
"Okay," I whisper.
"What can I do? Tell me what you need."
"Brandy...and sleep."