I clutch the door. “Can you slow down?”
He responds by flooring it. The German engine roars, and I’m thrown back in the seat as he takes a hard left.
“You want to tell me where you went.” There’s a threat in his voice.
“I just had a meeting.” I force myself to sit up and stare straight ahead at the darkening streetscape.
He takes side streets to the penthouse, avoiding most of the evening rush.
“Can you please just take me home? I’ve had a long day.”
He ignores me, pulling up in front of his penthouse. The doorman opens my car door.
Before I can even think about scurrying away, Salinger’s there, his hand a weight on my waist, guiding me through the marble-inlaid lobby. He practically throws me in the elevator.
“None of this is your business.” My voice is shaking. I can’t control it. All I want to do is go home.
He crosses his arms as the elevator whisks us up to his penthouse.
I hug my arms around myself. I’m freezing. The dress is not warm like my usual pants and oversized sweaters. “I’m not your anything. I’m not your friend or your girlfriend. I’m nothing to you. I work for you. I don’t need you to—”
“Yes, you do.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say, Salinger.”
“Protect you, keep you from harm, watch over you when you sleep because you’re so damn spooked that the last time you probably got some rest was at my home?”
I don’t have anything to say in reply.
The elevator stops. The doors open.
His hand returns to the back of my neck, leading me into the familiar penthouse. Suddenly, the feeling of knowing that I am absolutely safe hits me, and I immediately want to curl up and sleep in his arms.
Wait, no… That’s not right…
We’re at a door to a bedroom now. It’s not his, is it?
“Get out of that dress.” His deep voice rattles me.
My brain is fried, which is the only reason why my hands immediately reach for the buttons on the dress front.
Salinger growls low in his throat. His attention is one hundred percent on me, one-hundred-percent predator.
Don’t make any sudden moves.
My fingers freeze on the buttons.
He’s drawn to me, fixated on my hands at the neck of the dress. “I was going,” he begins, his mouth inches from mine, “to suggest you change into something you can rest in. That dress is awfully tight.”
Move your hand!I internally scream.
My fingers drift down the rows of buttons to smooth the waist.
Salinger tears his gaze away from me.
“I need to go home and get my other clothes,” I whisper, staring down at the floor so I don’t have to drown in his eyes.
“I don’t think you understand, Mandy. You’re not leaving.”
