Page 30 of Tell Me You Like It

My instinct is to force her. To walk over to her, throw her over my damn shoulder, and shove her into the car. I’ve become used to people following my commands with no questions asked. All this chick does is ask fucking questions—and it’s getting under my skin.

“You want to find your friend,” I say. “Then you need me. With my connections, I’m your best shot at finding her quickly.”

She’s standing under the street light, and I can see the indecision flicker in her eyes. But I’ve got her cornered and she knows it. She needs my help. Finally, she sways and then takes a step toward the car. She opens the passenger door, and slides into the leather seat.

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” she says through gritted teeth.

I get behind the wheel and hit the engine. When Iglance over at her, she looks small. Vulnerable. I could almost forget what a manipulative bitch she is.

Almost.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Lux

My God.I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Where the fuck is Bree? I pray Roman is right, and that she’s fine, hanging out somewhere, frantically looking for her phone. But my gut tells me something is wrong.

Very,verywrong.

I glance over at Roman, at the way the shadows play across his handsome face. He’s so damn hot—far hotter than he has any business being. But it’s not just his physical appearance I find so strangely alluring, it’s the way he carries himself. The undeniable power and confidence he exudes. Like he owns the world, and he’ll challenge anyone who questions that fact.

That level of self-assurance is infuriatingly attractive, and I won’t lie, I need his confidence right now. I need someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. And he’s right. If I’m going to find Bree, then I’ll need his resources.

He glances at me briefly, his grip tight on the steeringwheel. “We’ll find her,” he says, somehow reading the direction of my thoughts.

“Did you grow up around here?” I ask, looking out at the night sky, and down below, to the churning ocean. The road hugs a cliff that overlooks the Pacific Ocean, and if I weren’t in a panic to find Bree, I might actually find it beautiful.

“Yeah,” he says. “My family has lived in this area for a while. At least four generations.”

I nod, soaking in the information. The more I know about him, the better, I guess.

Know thine enemy.

Isn’t that the proverbial quote from Sun Tzu's The Art of War?

Am I at war with Roman Rush, though? He wants something from me that I’m unwilling to give, so I guess in that sense, yeah. As soon as all this Bree shit is over, I’m cutting all contact with him. His world is too big for me, and way too complicated. I thrive in the shadows, and that’s where I’ll return.

But first, I have to find my best friend.

After only a few minutes, we pull over on a dark section of road. It’s a lookout point that drops steeply off a rocky cliff, with only a short stone partition to keep people from toppling over the edge.

Roman cuts the engine and steps out of the car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and follow him to the waist-high retaining wall.

“What are we doing here? Why did we stop?” I glance around, but all I smell is brine, and all I hear is the turbulent ocean in the near distance. It’s too dark to see anything, really, even with his headlights on, illuminating the area directly in front of his car.

He leans against the retaining wall, arms crossed over his chest. He’s turned toward the ocean like he’s waiting for it to speak to him.

“What are you doing?” I ask, annoyed. We don’t have time for whatever meditation bullshit this is. For fuck’s sake. “Roman-”

He leans forward and places his warm hand on my mouth. He’s close, his warmth snaking around me, pulling me in. I suck in a sharp breath and blink.

Without removing his hand, he leans in a bit more. “This is a popular spot for people to hang out,” he says.

I nod, and he slowly removes his hand, but he doesn’t take a step back. I feel crowded, but I don’t move either, because I don’t want him knowing he intimidates me. He’d probably find it amusing. Just another one of his little games. And I can’t stand the thought of being entertainment fodder for some bored rich boy.

Been there. Done that. Not interested.

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