Page 79 of Mastered By Desire

“Not if you wrap this car around a telephone pole…”

He slows down. “I apologize. I thought it would be better to put more distance between you and the hotel. It made me rush.”

It doesn’t take long before he pulls into a below-ground parking garage. He gets my bags and we take the elevator up sixteen floors. I peer at his profile, his strong nose, his sexy glasses, his square jaw covered in neatly trimmed whiskers. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and jeans but still looks like he could run an underground sex club. Everything about him is dominant, capable, refined. Sexy.

He took charge just now, when I needed it. He continues to take charge as he leads me from the elevator and jabs the keypad door lock across the hall.

“Here we are.” He sounds nervous.

Glancing up at his face, I try to figure out why, for the first time, Gage Jannik sounds uncomfortable.

There’s no hint in his dark brown eyes, and his face betrays nothing. Either I imagined the nervous tone of his voice, or he’s a damned good actor.

The apartment is spacious, with giant windows framing the city skyline. Everything is modern, upholstered in light gray andblack, with a few splashes of a rich blue in throw pillows on the couches, a lampshade, a small painting of the ocean hanging by the door. In the living room, two large couches face each other over a coffee table. A television hangs on the wall, nestled in a modern bookcase. Unlike the one in his office, this bookcase is loaded with books.

“You like to read,” I say.

“It beats television.”

“There are some really good shows out there.”

“I’m sure there are. Let me show you where the guest room is.”

“Oh. Right.” I wasn’t expecting to sleepwithhim—our relationship, if I can call it that, isn’t anywhere near taking that step.

The room is nice, impersonal. Unlike the living area, this one is done in cream and pale green. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the bright afternoon light. But it’s devoid of personality, lonely. Almost like the hotel room I left behind.

Gage sets my bags on a chair by the window. “I’ll be right back.”

I wander to the window to look outside and press my bruised cheek against the cool glass. My head is throbbing.

I can’t stand here leaning against the window forever. I turn to follow Gage, only to find him already returning to the room.

He hands me a glass of water and holds up a bottle of pills. “Pain meds? Do you have any allergies?”

“None. Gimme.” I hold out my hand, flexing it open and closed.

Chuckling, he passes me the ibuprofen. I can’t down it fast enough, even though I know it’ll barely take the edge off.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I can make you something, or there’s leftover pasta from my dinner last night.”

“I just want to sleep. If that’s all right? It’s early and I don’t want to be a bad guest, but?—”

“You’re more than a guest, Leah.” He tilts my face up, careful to avoid the bruised areas. “I want to take care of you. I need it. After what I saw today…”

His dark eyes look stormy behind his glasses, and he doesn’t finish the sentence.

I touch his hand, turning it around to see the split knuckles from where he hit some of Randy’s thugs. “You already took care of me. But I’ll accept more, because I need it.”

His smile is brief. “Good. Rest now, all right? I’ll be up for a while, but if you wake up later and need anything, my room is right across the hall.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He leaves me alone, then, closing the door softly behind him.

I strip out of my jeans and find a clean shirt. I’m careful that my hoodie doesn’t press against my face as it comes off.

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