“I want to press charges,” Audrey says.
“Against whom?”he asks.
“Edgar Williams,” she clarifies.
“We’ll call the police and hold him in a room downstairs until they pick him up.Take your time following him to the station—we’ll make sure they get the security footage and eyewitness testimonies they need for your case.You’ll just need to make a statement,” Lopez says.
Audrey nods.
He grabs Edgar by the shoulders and lifts his dead weight as though he’s as light as a feather, while his partner lifts his legs.
“Also, nice handiwork, boss,” Lopez says as they lug Edgar’s unconscious body through the splintered doorway.
I blink in shock, uncertain how to take his appreciation.Certainly my baby doll’s suitor did not just approve of me.
I don’t share.He won’t trick me into letting down my guard.
Audrey Tripp is mine and no one else’s.
It feels so good to have her in my arms, but there’s nowhere more gossipy than corporate America, so I tell myself to release her and step back.
Only I can’t.Not when she trembles as though the air conditioning will blow her over.
My baby doll needs me.
Now.
Chapter 7
Audrey Tripp
I vowed to never view himas anything other than my boss, yet here I stand, wrapped in his arms and fighting against the urge to cling to him as my coworkers watch us from the hallway.
Brennan’s suit and tie are nothing like my ex-stepfather’s—and his shoulders are way too broad—but the violence echoing through the room erases the separation between today and that horrible night ten years ago.
My skin crawls even as my soul silently begs for Brennan to tighten his arms around me.The bruises forming on my ass from Mr.William’s fingertips reawaken memories of the deeper, more humiliating pain from my ex-stepfather.My knees threaten to buckle as the smell of blood fills my nostrils.
Visions of my mother sprawled, beaten, and left to bleed out on the floor mingle with the recent sight of my big brother punching Mr.Williams.
Vomit climbs up my throat.I curl my fingers around Brennan’s lapels and lift pleading eyes up past his corded throat and masculine chin.
The world blurs.Faces flash by.Doors shut.A lock clicks.
I dart across the CEO’s office, lunge into the private bathroom, and retch into the toilet until fire scorches my throat, tears trail down my face, and my head hollows.
When I flush and lean back against the wall, broad shoulders block the light, and despite my exhaustion, I flinch.
Brennan squats beside me and offers me a damp paper towel.
“How can I help, baby doll?”
The concern in his low murmur soothes the ache in my chest.
“Take off the suit.”
The words escape my raw throat without my permission.Without hesitation, he shrugs out of his jacket, takes off his tie, unbuttons the collar of his shirt, rolls his sleeves, and tosses the removed articles of clothing onto the edge of the sink.
If he was handsome in the suit, he’s pure perfection with his forearms on display and his shirt stretched across his chest muscles.His cinnamon-and-clove scent clears away the coppery hint of blood, and when he cups my chin, the sharp tang of baby wipes and hand sanitizer wafts from his hand.
