Page 95 of Rebel Hawke

“That motherfucker.” Atlas’ grip on me tightens.

I dig my nails into the top of his palm, his only exposed skin not covered by the damn tux, trying to get his attention. Trying to stop him from going over the edge, saying or doing something stupid, like going after Satriano right now.

I take a half-breath, my airway starting to open up again.

Then another.

Another.

Until I can finally attempt to speak again.

“I’m okay, really.”

A muscle in his tense jaw tics. “No, you’re not. You’re trembling.” He rubs his hand along my back, tugging me even closer to his body and warmth. “I’m getting you out of here.”

I shake my head, trying to shift to face him fully. “No. It’s early. You still have to do the speeches and the silent auction. We’re not leaving.”

Gabe squats in front of us, his concerned eyes meeting mine. “Are you sure?”

Absolutely.

The last thing I’m going to do is let Satriano drive me away from this fundraiser, to allow him to taint an event so important to the Hawkes and their charity.

I nod. “I’m okay.”

Though, the trembling is real.

All that adrenaline still coursing through my system.

“Okay.” Gabe reaches out and squeezes my knee through my gown. “When you’re ready to go, we’ll have Saint and Bishop ride with you guys to ensure Satriano doesn’t try anything on the way home.”

He rises and moves away from the table, giving us some much-needed privacy to handle the fallout of Satriano’s unexpected appearance. Likely issuing warnings to the rest of the family to be on high alert, given his audacious move tonight.

Atlas tightens his grip on me and slips my inhaler back into my purse. His lips brush along my cheek where my scars rise. “Christ, when I saw him with you…”

His body trembles under mine.

But still, the feel of his strong, hard muscle and secure arms around me, the scent of leather and coconut clinging to him and invading my breaths, seem to be the only things holding me steady and preventing me from completely crumbling.

That confrontation with Satriano, the audacity of the man to walk in here and approach me like that, pushes something that had been flitting around my mind earlier to the forefront.

Makes that decision so crystal clear.

It has finally pushed me over the edge I was already walking precariously close to.

I turn so I can fully face Atlas, and he lifts his head, those usually soft blue eyes full of icy shards that aren’t directed at me. That I want to melt away so I can swim in their depths.

Taking his face in my palms, I hold his gaze, ensuring he is focused solely onmein this moment and not brooding about what happened. “I want to break our rule.”

15

ATLAS

All the blood rushing through my ears with my barely restrained fury suddenly shifts to a very different part of my body. “What did you just say?”

Wren locks her warm amber gaze with mine, and the cacophony around us—the band, the chatter of the hundreds of people, the click of expensive shoes on the dance floor—vanishes in an instant. All that matters is what is about to come out of her plump, pink lips right now. “I said, I want to break our rule.”

They’re the words I’ve been longing to hear for weeks, that I’vebeggedher for, but not like this. Not after she just had a brush with Satriano and likely has a crazy adrenaline reaction occurring in her body.

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