He was deadly serious with that question. I felt myself squirm and then hated myself for allowing him to have this effect on me! It wasn’t fair. Why wasn’t I returning the favour? The man had an obvious soft spot for me, and if he was going to purposely rile me up, then why not do the same?

“Yes,” I answered as casually as I could.

His eyes widened in surprise and then darkened. “Is that right?”

I nodded certainly.

“Has it been that long that you’re so desperate for a fuck with a gangly looking man in skinny jeans?”

Oh, God.

It was him. He was responsible for scaring Jake away.

Well, that made a lot more sense.

“Hasn’t been that long,” I replied calmly. “A little over a week.”

His fingers abruptly left my leg. Now he was angry. “A little over a week?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Nope. You think it’s hard getting away from your muscle? Moustache Man sucks at what he does –”

He gripped my chin suddenly and forced my face up to look at him. His grip was tight but not painful. I looked up into his thunderous eyes. The passive exterior he’d tried so hard to contain had broken through, and he was seething.

My whole body came alive and adrenaline surged through me again. I was mortified at myself for feeling… excited.

“Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again,” he growled. “There was no one last week, and there was no one the weeks before that. It’s been a very long time since you’ve been touched by another man, so stop bullshitting me, Emma. It was me, and only me.”

He leaned in forward until his nose was barely touching mine. His eyes looked deeply into mine and my heart squeezed painfully as he softly added, “And no one’s going to be touching you either. You got it?”

Though he waited impatiently, I made no movement.

“Emma?” he said threateningly.

I finally nodded and he let go, swiftly looking around the room with his face all screwed up. His anger was exploding right out of him, but he held it in with remarkable effort.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I had to look away so he couldn’t see it. What was it about me that made him able to hold back from losing his shit? And why did that satisfy me so damn much?

“While this has been…interesting, I should go,” I said after some silence. Time to flee Mr Mercurial and return to my safe haven of a home. Moustache Man was most likely still kicking around outside somewhere.

“I’ll take you home,” he replied.

“It’s okay,” I protested with a shake of my head. “I’ll call Graeme –”

“That wasn’t a fucking offer, Emma. I’m telling you I’m taking you home. Get up and let’s go.” His voice was hard and that frightening gleam shadowed his eyes as he waited for me to respond.

Eventually I nodded. He wouldn’t quit until he got his way.

I stood up with him and quickly pushed down my mini-dress after it’d hiked up to my thighs from sitting down for so long. I ignored his eyes as they lingered around my ass and legs.

Thankfully, he kept his distance as we trudged out of there.

*

It was my first time in a Ferrari. I tried not to act so excited, but I was bursting at the seams inside. I felt a little awkward because the drive had been a silent one. I ran away with my thoughts, feeling things I shouldn’t. Like safe. That was the last thing this man was given how riled up he made me.

I tried not to look at him, but I was like Granny. I just had to rudely stare. I was immune to his punishments, so I didn’t worry about being caught gawking.

He caught me looking every time. After about the sixth time his eyebrows rose in exasperation. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to stare?”

I spotted some discomfort in him. Either he hated being stared at –and who wouldn’t – or he wasn’t used to it. People did turn away when he looked anywhere in their vicinity. It was always per his demand to be looked at directly.

I wondered why I enjoyed making him uncomfortable. I had some kind of weird fascination pushing his buttons to see how far he would go without losing his shit. Sort of like what he was doing to me.

I ignored his question.

“Don’t drop me off in front of the apartment building,” I said. “I’d hate for anyone to do something to your car. Lot of people loiter around there.”

“Don’t worry about my car in your ghetto,” he replied.

“Ghetto, huh?”

“How else would you describe your living environment? Educate me.”

I thought for a moment. It was a miserable little area, I’ll give him that. A lot of gangs lurked there and they were none too welcoming either. They hadn’t bothered me personally, and were more affiliated with drug exchanges than girls, so it wasn’t all that bad.

“Pretty ghetto,” I finally agreed quietly. “We’re not all lucky and rich.”

Well, that was a clear dig at him. Nothing like being another poor person with a chip on their shoulder, Emma!

“I wasn’t until a lot later in life,” he corrected me. “I had my fair share of poverty before I left town. I’ve been to places that make your apartment dwelling look like a dream.”

My eyes widened in surprise.

“I never knew that,” I said. “I mean, nobody ever said anything about that.”

“That’s because nobody knows of my travels,” he mumbled disinterestedly. “I’d like to keep it that way too.”

“Oh.”

I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to pry, though I wanted to – and suddenly I really wanted to.

“Where did you go?” I blurted out.

“Away from here.”

“Was it scary?”

He tensed a little, his thoughts firing behind his eyes. “Yes,” he truthfully answered. “It was.”

The car slowed down on the street facing the apartment complex. He looked at the building and then at the same group of men out front of the entrance doors, all five of them. They still never hassled me, and I was inclined to think they were genuinely okay guys, but Borden frowned at the sight of them. Rightfully wary.

“Let me walk you in,” he said, turning off the engine.

“You don’t have to,” I quickly replied.