Page 62 of Controlled

“If only there was such a thing as a good witch holding a magic wand.”

“If she were standing here, what would you wish for? And it must be something very personal, not saving the world or peace for all.”

As I took a deep breath and thought about his question, I basked in the moment, the exquisite restaurant and the clothes I was wearing. Yes, I really did fell like a fairy princess, and he certainly was no toad. I felt as if I was losing a part of myself, uncertain why the repulsion I’d felt for him had faded somewhat over the last few hours. It made no sense, none whatsoever.

“A prima ballerina for the American Ballet Theater here in New York.”

“Not the Joffrey Ballet here or back in your hometown?”

“As you well know, Los Angeles is my home, or at least it was.”

“Isn’t home where the heart is?” he asked, grinning as he twirled his rocks glass back and forth.

Why was I blushing? “Only if you have a heart.”

“Ouch. You wound me.”

“Ha!” I lifted my champagne glass, licking the rim on purpose but the inner voice inside of me was chastising the feeling of euphoria and freedom I’d just experienced. How in God’s name could I enjoy a dinner, drinks, and an entire evening with a bastard like Creed?

Because it’s obvious he cares about you.

There was another side to the shackled woman furrowing somewhere inside of me. I’d wanted someone to love me for as long as I could remember, even though I’d been terrified of losing myself in someone. But this? I was crazy to think of him as anything but some well-trained serial killer. Yet here I was laughing with him.

I had no clue how he could make me laugh after feeling like nothing but his hostage, but between dinner and the incredible atmosphere, being waited on hand and foot, I was in some crazy kind of spell I wasn’t certain I wanted to end.

When I was a little girl, before I’d embraced just how much my mother had resented me being born, I’d pretended I was the Hollywood princess with suitors lining up to court me. I’d even dressed up in my mother’s most beautiful dresses, putting on makeup and pretending I was her.

Until the day I’d ruined one of her Chanel couture creations, something the designer had made for her exclusively.

That was the day I’d learned how much she hated me.

I was thinking about that very moment as I stared out the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows, the Empire State Building lit up in red and so close, it was as if I could reach out and touch it. The entire restaurant was unlike anything I’d ever seen. There were twinkling lights everywhere, hundreds cascading down from the ceiling. The tables were far enough apart that conversations could be held in private, the white linens and stunning crystal adding to the posh atmosphere.

There was a grand piano nestled in one corner, the pianist accompanied by a stunning dark-haired woman dressed in red, a dress not unlike the one I was wearing. Almost every table had a fabulous-looking couple, most toasting from bottles of champagne.

Dinner had been incredible, food I’d never had before and hadn’t believed I could ever afford. Creed had ordered, insisting he do so and I couldn’t complain about a single selection. I was thoroughly enjoying the music, more relaxed than I’d thought I’d be.

Especially since my dinner companion was my captor.

And the four burly men were all standing in the shadows like statues. I had no idea how Creed could ever get used to being shadowed, constantly in danger but right now, I kept thinking about my mother.

I’d even been surprised at the light dinner conversation, the man not holding back on some personal details about himself and his likes. I could tell he was staring at me as he’d been doing almost all night. It was difficult not to stare at him, the man so handsome in his expensive tuxedo, the outfit complete with black onyx and diamond cufflinks, and a matching watch that could probably put a dent in the country’s deficit.

I threw him a heated gaze, still hating that every inch of me was tingling. When he smiled coyly, I tried to look away, but he leaned over the round table, gripping my jaw as he’d done before.

“What are you thinking, my perfect dancer?”

I stared into his eyes, wishing this was nothing but a dream date. I almost liked the man when he wasn’t acting like a crazed person. “How much my mother hated me. This is every girl’s fantasy and I wanted to be just like her because she had men fawning all over her. I thought I could find my perfect hero, but they don’t exist. Do they?”

He was taken aback by my out of the blue question. “Heroes aren’t reality for most men, Bella. Perhaps military soldiers hired to protect our country, but for the normal man, it places a heavy burden on him. No man is perfect, but they do need love and attention just like any woman. They hunger for it and when all they find is deceit, it takes everything away, including their souls.”

I knew for certain he’d been hurt more than once, his admittance something he’d maybe never done with anyone else.

“But every little girl dreams of a knight in shining armor, someone who will rescue her from the horrors of her life. In return, the damsel in distress is more than willing to give her dashing prince her heart and soul.” Maybe I was just lamenting over what I hadn’t allowed in my life, including romance.

“I wish I could tell you there were men of that kind of honor, but I’ve never known any.”

“Including yourself and your two brothers?” I took a sip of champagne, wondering why I was bothering to analyze the man. Granted, he was as complicated as they came. There were so many layers to him that I’d noticed in a short period of time, yet I had a feeling he was using the mask he wore to hide behind various traumas in his life.

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