I can make a thousand and one excuses for why I didn't—it didn't feel right, it was too busy of a night, she didn't seem interested—but the truth of the matter is I'm scared. Scared she'll say no. That she'll say there's nothing there. That she's not interested, or that she doesn't want to risk her job. They're all valid excuses, but they all ring hollow.
I have to tell her. I have to be honest.
Roger meets my gaze in the rear view mirror, and I see the look in his eyes. It's different from the one he usually gives me. "What?" I'm defensive, I know, but I can't help it. "If you have something to say, say it."
He looks up at the apartment building, where Denali disappeared to just moments ago. "Aren't you going to go after her?"
"Go after her for what?" I play stupid, because I'm hoping I'm not so transparent that even my driver has seen through my act.
"Isn't that what you do when you're in love with someone? You tell them?"
He makes a good point. "How can you tell?"
His shrug is almost comical. "I've been there before. Seen too many idiots in love who miss the boat because they're too busy or too scared to make the next step happen. And I kinda like you, and Ireallylike Miss Denali. So maybe don't be another one of those fools, Mr. Kai."
He has a point. "Wait here for me?"
Roger's lips curl in a smile, and I know I've made the right choice. "Where else am I going to go, boss?"
I'm out of the car in a flash, taking the stairs two at a time. My hands are shaking, my heart races in my chest as I think of what the hell I'll tell her.
Denali, I'm in love with you, and I want you so bad it hurts sometimes?—
Too much too soon. I've got to be more careful about this.
Kara, you're amazing, and I'd be blind if I didn't see it?—
No. That's not it either. There's got to be some way to explain to her what exactly I'm feeling?—
I draw up short on her floor, though. Light spills out of one of the apartments, and it only takes me a second of thought processing to realize it's hers. The door is wide open?—
—something's wrong.
I walk slowly to her door, even though every molecule in my body screams for me to run to her side. I don't know what's going on in there, or if maybe she's just standing on the other side, preparing to take some trash out or something. But when I reach the door and look inside, my blood runs cold, nearly stopping my heart.
Her apartment looks like a bomb went off. Things are tossedeverywhere,like one of those mob movies where they come in looking for some stolen drugs or something. Her things are strewn about with no care to anything, and there's dirt all over the carpet. Plants overturned. Plates broken all over the floor. And no sign of Denali anywhere.
It's stupid, because what am I? Just some idol with no self-defense or combat training, a short man with money that he lets do all the talking for him when he needs something done.
I could call the police, but I don't. I could call for Anton to come up, but I don't do that either. No, instead, I'm slinking through the apartment myself, like some sort of amateur detective, hoping to find Denali around the next corner.
I've never been inside her apartment, but it's tiny, so there's not much space to cover. I reach the final room and there she stands. Her hands are at her sides, fisted in the fabric of her dress as she stands there in the center of her room and shakes. Her shoulders are tense, and I reach for one without thinking, the desire to comfort her overwhelming.
"Denali—"
The scream that leaves her is regretful. As is the fact that she swings on me, because I was too stupid to realize I shouldn't sneak up on a frightened woman. By some miracle, she doesn't connect because I dodge backward in time.
"Denali, wait!" In her hasty swing, she's offset herself, and falls right into my arms. "Denali!"
Those soulful eyes look up at me, and it's like seeing a whole new woman. She's pale, too pale, and the brokenness in her gaze twists my insides. I've never before been this far into someone, especially not a woman, but Denali makes me different.
Women trust me, it's a natural part of who I am and what I represent: strength, security, confidence. But beneath all that is a man who worries about whether or not he'll ever be enough. Who isn't sure where his future will take him, or how long he'll be able to stay on top of the world.
But when I look at Denali, and she looks at me, I don't hear those fears anymore. No, for some reason, what she sees in me is everything I can't see in myself. She trusts me, she's confidentthat I know what I'm doing. That I can handle it, whatever theitis.
Like now.
Her lips slam together, silencing the scream she let out, and a whimper takes its place. "Kai?" She's cold, almost like she's in shock, and I watch in real time as she processes what's going on, who I am, why I'm here. Or, maybe she doesn't ask herself the whys of it.
