I could feel her rapid heartbeat even through our clothes. Could feel her freeze, and her eyes widened with something that looked a lot like pure terror or fear.
Good.
Only she masked whatever I thought I’d glimpsed immediately, glared at me, and raised her hands into fists.
I caught both wrists, pushed them down, and glared right back. “Listen carefully,” I growled, placing her hands on either side of her, caging her in even more. “You don’t hit me. You don’t interfere with my questioning. You don’t make a scene on this aircraft. Understood?”
Her eyes burned with defiance, chin tilted up despite her compromised position. “You stay away from my sister,” she hissed, “or I’ll make you regret ever laying eyes on either of us.”
I leaned closer, using my height advantage. I already regretted this mission more than any other before it. Not that it would deter me from executing it with the utmost professionalism. “Is that a threat, Shorty?”
“It’s a promise.”
The confined space seemed to shrink even more, the air between us charged with something dangerous. I could smell her—that faint floral scent mixed with smoke and something uniquely her. The scent that had me hyperaware all night.
Our faces were inches apart, her breath warm against my skin.
At least apart from the moment of fear earlier, she wasn’t afraid of me anymore, a fact that I somehow liked andhated at the same time. Everything would be so much easier if she were intimidated by me.
“Your protectiveness is admirable,” I said, voice dropping lower, “but misplaced. I’m not the threat here.”
“Says the man who kidnapped us and handcuffed me to him all night.”
My eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, lingering there a beat too long before meeting her gaze again.
Something shifted in the atmosphere—the anger was still present but now laced with a different kind of tension. Her pupils dilated slightly, and I felt her breath hitch when I moved infinitesimally closer.
“That was for your own protection,” I murmured.
“Bullshit,” she whispered, but there was less venom in it now.
I became acutely aware of every point where our bodies touched—my chest against hers, my forearms brushing her hips while gripping her wrists, my legs between her thighs. The air felt electric, charged with something I hadn’t anticipated. And neither did she, if her rapid breathing, wide eyes, and racing heartbeat were any indicators.
For a long moment, we remained frozen in that electric tension, her defiance melting into something more complex. I should have stepped back. Should have maintained professional distance. But something about this woman had gotten under my skin from the moment I’d chased her.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Shorty,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.
Her dark eyes studied me, calculating, assessing. “I didn’t start this game. You did.”
My fingers twitched with the urge to touch her face, to trace the line of her jaw. Instead, I let go of her wrists and planted them on the counter beside her hips, my thumbs touching her pinkies.
“Tell me something,” I said, not moving away. “Why are you so protective of your sister? As far as I know, she can take care of herself. What makes Isabella so special that everyone wants her?”
A flash of something—surprise, concern?—crossed her features before she masked it.
“She’s my sister,” she answered simply. “We protect each other.”
“That’s not the whole story,” I pressed, sensing there was more. “What is it about her?”
Her jaw tightened. “Well, if anyone should know, it should be you? Aren’t we just bargaining chips to get Vince to do whatever you or your bosses want?”
“Maybe,” I conceded, “but that’s not all.”
She shifted slightly, inadvertently bringing our bodies closer. I felt her warmth through my clothes, saw the pulse fluttering at her throat. If she wanted to punch me again, this was her chance, but her hands remained by her side, still touching mine.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said suddenly, changing tactics.
“Well, you’re not what I expected either.”
