‘You’re not stomping your way through the streets of London alone, no matter how fearsome you think you are.’
‘Stop telling me what to do. Stop treating me like a child!’ I realise we’re actually tussling. He’s not hurting me, but he’s not letting go of my arms, either.
‘Then stop behaving like one. What is this about? One minute you’re fine, then he turns up and suddenly you’re like this.’
‘Like what? Like angry?’ I step closer, eyes narrowed. ‘Like disobedient?’
‘I doubt you’ve been obedient a day in your life.’
‘I’ll never bow to you.’
‘You’ll do just as I tell you.’ His words are bullets, his tone barbed.
‘Fuck you.’ I turn but don’t get very far as he pushes me into a nearby shop doorway. The brick wall beneath by back is shockingly cold and the stench in the small space acrid and choking. Beckett steps in after me, and though the darkness swallows me, light from a nearby lamppost casts his high cheekbones in stark relief, while turning his eyes to coal.
He has never looked more frightening.
‘What did he say to you?’
His eyes darken and my pulse begins to pound. I thought I’d seen him angry before but this? This is different. This is the apex predator without a cage, his anger as real as the breath that caresses my face. I shuffle back, my instinct pure self-preservation as he follows, his movements dark and threatening, the kind that sends a thrill skittering across my skin. He isn’t going to hurt me. I know that. But the shimmer of excitement that hecouldis undeniable.
‘What he said is none of your concern.’ I find myself lifting my chin, my answer defiant but not without a tremor.
‘Why the fuck were you talking to him?’ His voice deepens, his anger almost palpable.
‘Again, that’s got nothing to do with—’
‘I am your husband.’ He doesn’t shout, but his words are no less frightening.
‘In name only,’ I whisper.
Reaching out, he places one hand on the wall behind me, the brush of his sleeve against my shoulder a jolt of electricity. A jolt of awareness of how close he is. Leaning forward, he joins me in the shadows, his words more powerful with the absence of light.
‘The husband whose name you cry out in the dark.’
His lips touch my cheek, his hand sliding up my thigh, dragging my dress with it, dragging a stuttering sigh from my lips.
‘You won’t see him again,’ he whispers, his teeth grazing my jaw, his fingers tantalising the soft skin of my inner thigh.
‘You can’t stop me.’
‘Don’t tempt me, darling. There are no depths I won’t sink to.’
‘To get your hands on what you want?’ His agreement is more purr than word as his hand ghosts between my legs, his whole body stilling as I reach out and grasp his wrist. ‘You need to tell me the truth, Beckett. Any truth.’
Tell me you own the company ahead of time.
Tell me Luke had a hand in that fucked up business.
Tell me you love me.
Tell me something.
‘I don’t need to tell you anything.’
‘Then I’m walking.’ His hand moves from between my legs as he straightens, the streetlight revealing him in all his gorgeous glory. But I don’t have time to appreciate this because I’m walking. Slipping around the side and out into the street. I head in the opposite direction of the car still, my eyes scanning the roads for a passing cab. I can’t stay here, not with him. Not like this.
‘Olivia,’ he calls after me. I don’t hear his footsteps. ‘Where are you going?’
