Her dad disappeared into the south side of the stone building where they hosted events when the weather wasn’t agreeable to an outdoor venue. Her maternal grandparents had built the facility when they first bought the property sixty-five years ago. It had hints of French influence from her grandfather with an Argentinian flair from her grandmother. They made wine and used the space as their tasting room. When her parents took over, they leased the vineyards to a local winemaker and focused on hosting events. A few years into it, they added a new-but-built-to-look-old stone barn to host larger receptions like the one tomorrow.
A familiar truck pulled up the drive before she had a chance to slip up to her office. With a sigh, she mentally rearranged her schedule, fitting the final review of tomorrow’s timetables into a slot between dinner and the final setup check.
An hour later, she waved goodbye to Juan Mendoza, the delivery driver for the linen service they used. When his truck passed through the portico, she started toward her office, but again, the sound of another car slowed her steps.
A bright yellow Maserati cruised into the courtyard. Her stomach somersaulted at the sight, and she debated making a run for it.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t solve the problem.
Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that her history with the driver went back far longer than the events of the past four months. They’d been, if not friends, then friendly acquaintances. Not the exes he thought they were now since they never really dated. Yes, they’d been on two dates, but both had gone south so fast she hadn’t bothered to figure out how or why.
Derek stopped his car, leaving it running as he leaped out. “We need to talk, Helia,” he said, stalking so close she took a step back.
“We don’t, Derek. There’s nothing to talk about.” Something she’d told him three times since she declined a third date. “And we have an event we’re getting ready for.” Unwilling to show any weakness, she held his gaze. His generic brown eyes were average and uninteresting in every way. Except for a frantic glint in them that gave her pause. A glint that made every internal danger radar she had go off. A new, and disturbing, development.
“Helia, we’re good together. You know it, I know it. Why are you playing hard to get?” he insisted, taking another step forward. She hated herself for taking a step back, but her reflexes kicked in before she could consider holding her ground. If everthere was a time to do that, it was now. He wouldn’t press her too far—not here, not with people moving around the property preparing for the event. But her logic didn’t work as fast as her instinct.
“Derek, you know that’s not true,” she said, still confused how he could think any of those things. They were as compatible as oil and water, and not once in her life had she played hard to get.
“You’re lying, Helia. I don’t know why, but you are,” he said, his hand closing around her upper arm before she could move away. “We’re good together, Helia.”
Her heart rate took flight like a swarm of hummingbirds when his grip tightened. She’d have her thick flannel to thank if she walked away without bruises.
“Let go of me, Derek,” she said, jerking away. When he didn’t give an inch, true fear rolled through her body like an earthquake, leaving her legs shaky. She desperately wanted to be one of those strong kick-ass women she saw on TV or read about in books. But deep down, she wasn’t prepared for this to happento her.
“Come now, Helia. Talk to me. At least talk to me.” He pulled her close, his face inches from hers.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind—should she stomp on his foot, or scream? Maybe knee him in the nuts, or slap him with her free hand? Like a deer in the fucking headlights, though, her body refused to cooperate with any of those options.
Fighting to breathe, her chest rose and fell in jerky, uneven spurts. Distantly, she knew she needed to do something soon, to protect her body as well as her pride. Rocking back on her heel, she shifted her weight to lift her knee.
A sharp squeal ricocheted through her ears, but her knee connected with nothing but air. A heartbeat later, Collin stoodbetween her and Derek, his stance wide as he faced her not-ex. “She asked you to let her go,” he growled.
CHAPTER THREE
Monk wrestled with the beast inside him, the one that wanted to remove whoever this dude was from Helia’s orbit. Possibly permanently. He’d seen the fear in her eyes. And the heartbreaking confusion. As if doubting her own experience. Helia wasn’t the first woman he’d met so stunned by physical aggression that she froze in disbelief. He hated seeing that look on anyone, but on Helia? Nope, not acceptable.
“Who the hell are you?” Hunched to his left and holding the shoulder where Monk had strategically pinched a nerve, the dude’s question came out more a squeak than a demand. It took less than a second to dismiss the pretty boy as any sort of real threat—at least to him.
“A friend,” he replied. Helia inched up behind him, her shoulder brushing against his leather jacket in a swirl of lavender.
“This is a private conversation.” Beady brown eyes narrowed as he spoke. Monk supposed he was a relatively good-looking guy, in the way every other rich, entitled bro he’d ever come across was.
“This isn’t a conversation at all,” Monk replied. “Climb back into your compensation car and drive away. If Helia ever wantsto see or talk to you again, it will be on her terms. And you will not touch her,” he added. He thought about qualifying that with “unless that’s what she wants,” but the words wouldn’t come out.
The dude shifted, as if he could sway Helia with his gaze like that python inTheJungle Book. Monk shifted with him, keeping her from his view. His eyes narrowed again, making his nose and chin look out of proportion to the rest of his face. Monk took a small step toward him. Predictably, he stepped back.
Monk flashed him a menacing smile and leaned forward. The guy’s eyes widened, foretelling his imminent capitulation.
Three…two…one.
“We’re not through discussing this, Helia,” he said, before spinning away and lowering himself into his ridiculous car. Not that Monk disliked the Maserati; they were sweet rides. But if this guy knew how to properly handle one, Monk would eat his leather jacket.
The yellow car turned and raced down the drive. Monk snorted at the cloud of dust. Yeah, predictable.
“Thank you.”
Turning, he met Helia’s gaze. The surprise in her eyes when the guy grabbed her told him it was likely the first time anything like that had happened to her. Still, the shame he saw there now had his stomach twisting in on itself.
