He sits in a director’s chair, but keeps an arm around me so I’m tucked between his legs.
It happens so fast that I’m frozen, surrounded by shadows and theater curtains while breathing him in. “What the hell are you doing? I thought we were leaving.”
“You said you wanted privacy. I didn’t want to risk you clamming up on me by waiting until we were in the car, and I have something to say.” He pauses there, probably testing me to see if I’ll bolt, but I’m intrigued by thesomething to saypart of that explanation … until he shares it. “As implausible as it may seem to you and as regrettable as you may deem it, you and I are connected to one another for the foreseeable future. You are very much mine right now, Tess.”
I’m instantly infuriated with myself and him.
I raise my hand, warning him off, and start to whirl away from him. “Well, I’m done trying to figure out your motivation for anything—”
He clutches my wrist, holding me to him. “Ask me.”
“What?”
“Ask me what my motivation is for anything,” he repeats, “and I’ll tell you.”
Why do a thousand questions pop into my head, as if a part of my brain has been storing them up, hoping to unravel the mystery of Maddox Noire?
I’ll blame it on the alcohol that I’m lurking in an empty theater in lieu of heading home and I can’t seem to tell him that I don’t want to know anything about him and insist that we leave.
Instead, my mouth spits out a query without my authorization. “Why the employee piece? Is it what Axel and Ryker made you take on or …”
I’m not sure what he expected me to ask, but it wasn’t that. It’s surprising to me too. Maybe I need to justify my reasoning for calling him to help me that awful night. I could’ve reached out to Jax or some of the security guys here. I was closer to them. But I’d always felt some sort of unspoken connection toMaddox, and part of me believed he was the most capable and also safe, someone who would put his life on the line for people who needed him.
His chest deflates with a ragged breath, and after a good thirty seconds of him staring at me, his response is raspy. “I asked to run it. My mom was an employee here. For a minute … before …” He’s never been less composed than this, and something about it reeks of authenticity. “I like making sure the staff is valued.”
“That’s …” It’s on the tip of my tongue to sayhonorablebecause the mention of his mom and his drive to take care of his staff have me all gooey inside, but then I remember that this is the same guy holding something over my head and dismantling my life because of it. “Less pompous than I expected.”
His haunting gray gems drop to my lips before rising to lock on to mine. “What else?”
That hungry glimmer in his eye is going to get us both in trouble. An unsettling urge to press my mouth to his surges through me.
“Well, since you saidanything, what is this”—I flip my hand between us—“about?”
He glances away in a move that, again, screams honesty before peering down at me. Even on a stool, the man is tall. “Part of me wants to know you, part of me wants to break you, and part of me wants to own you.”
So much to unpack from that simple sentence. Why, after all this time, would he decide he wants to know me? What wouldbreaking meentail, and why does it send a thrill to my core? And who the hell does he think he is, wanting to own me?
I suppose he already does, to an extent.
My heart thrashes against my sternum and ribs, and a little voice inside my head commands me to run. I’m already too entangled. He’s going to hurt me. Again.
“We should go,” I whisper. “I need to get home.”
He senses that the moment between us has ended, so he splays his hand more firmly on my lower back, securing me in place. “Don’t do that. You wanted answers, and I gave them. And based on what you asked, it sounds like you want to know me too.”
Is he serious about that? No, the desires tobreak meandown meare far more on point. There was a trace of something hopeful in that reply though, and it frustrates me. He’s fucking with me. And I’m falling for it.
“Fine,” I snap, affording him another chance. “I have one more question.”
“Give it to me.”
“Do I have any say in how this goes?” I bite out.
Another ragged breath. “No. That’s theowning youpart.”
“If you really wanted to know me, Maddox, that answer would be different.” I turn and walk away, determined to keep my guard up.
He might be able to dictate my life, but he can’t make me speak to him or flatter him with this getting-to-know-each-other bullshit. I will not be controlled by him or anyone. Never again.
