Page 117 of To Catch a Sub

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Colette couldn’t breathe. Panic ate through her like acid. Her fingers were trembling, her heart hammered against her ribs, and her vision had shrunk to a pinprick.

“Breathe, Colette,” Andrei said, slowly releasing her.

Without arms around her, or a body at her back, she swayed on her feet. The men’s sharp conversation filtered through the thick blanket of white noise that seemed to wrap over her.

“I think she’s having a panic attack,” Andrei said.

“She needs to sit down. Landon, carry her.” That was Rolf.

“I’ll do it.” Andrei again.

“No, Landon will do it. She backed away from you when you tried to collar her.”

“You fucking what?” Now it was Landon speaking, and the sound of his voice pushed down some of the panic.

“Later,” Rolf commanded. “Landon, carry her or I will.”

Without thinking, Colette stepped towards Landon. A second later his arms were around her back and under her bare knees. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know you don’t want me to touch you.”

She wanted to negate that. To counter that she did want him to touch her, because even though he’d hurt her, she both needed, and loved, him.

Colette wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up until she could press her face against the side of his head and neck.

The world spun and dipped as he carried her out into the main part of the club. Furniture scraped, and a second later Colette was lowered into an armchair. The leather was cold against her ass and legs. She exhaled, slowly gathering herself.

The blind panic muted to something manageable. She still trembled. She was still feverishly making plans for what she’d do when she left here, but she was no longer blind and deaf to what was happening around her.

Landon, Rolf, and Andrei were seated in their own chairs which were pulled up in a half-circle facing her. A table was positioned between her and them, and a tall glass of ice and a taller bottle of water waited there. She grabbed the bottle, ignoring the ice, and took a few deep swallows before setting it down.

She braced herself and looked at Landon, who was in the center chair directly across from her.

“I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “You weren’t meant to hear that.” He slanted a glare at Andrei.

“I really thought that conversation was going to go a different way.” Andrei shrugged. “I thought you were going to confess your?—”

“I have to go,” Colette said, cutting Andrei off.

“No,” Landon countered. “You’re safe here.”

“Not if Interpol plans to hand me over to Damien.” She wouldn’t allow that to happen, but the very fact that someone thought it was a good idea horrified her. Horrified, but not surprised.

Rolf leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You need to answer a few questions.”

Colette looked away, feeling defeated. All her machinations, and her reticence, had been to avoid this very situation.

“Colette?” Rolf prompted.

With a defeated sigh, she looked back. “Ask your questions. I’ll answer.”

Rolf looked to Landon, silently letting him take the lead. Landon licked his lips, and she wanted to kiss him. Needed him to kiss her.

“Are you married?” There was a hidden hurt in his words, though on the surface they were matter-of-fact.

Her heart clenched and she shook her head. “No. I’m not married, and certainly not to Damien.”

Landon nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Why is Damien Tarasov offering millions of euros to whomever brings you back to him?”