Page 64 of The Passion

“Umm, also, tonight I am going out to dinner, but I want you to know it’s only to keep up appearances and I have a plan, so it will be all fine.”

I can feel my shoulders already tensing. I don’t like the sound of this at all. Especially when she is being so vague with the details.

“Dinner with who?” I know I’m using the wrong tone with her, but I can’t help it.

“Again, don’t get mad, I’ve got this.” She is avoiding the question.

“Who the fuck are you having dinner with, Felisha.” I hate this whole fucking secret-relationship scenario.

Sitting up taller and pushing her shoulders back, she is trying to appear confident, but I can already see in her eyes she is bracing for my reaction.

“Fulton Anderson.”

And I feel like my head explodes, and I can’t even sit still. I push my chair back with such force it lands on the floor, and I pace the room. “No! Not happening. That man is not touching you, do you hear me? I’ll lock you in this apartment if I have to.”

“Calm down.” Now she is standing too, and her hands are on her hips. Why the fuck do women do that when they are mad?

I’m the one who should be mad. Actually, I’m not mad, I’m fucking livid. That old guy is the only man I have seen her date more than once in the time I’ve known her, and I’m not letting this happen.

“Calm? I’m so far from calm that there is a fucking ocean between me and calm.” I’m trying to keep my rage in check, but I’m not very successful at this stage.

“You have to trust me on this. We need to put up a normal front, and me being seen out for dinner is a normal thing. Harper is going to make sure the photographers are around to capture it.” She is walking toward me, and I know I can’t let her touch me because I will cave, and I’m not ready to give an inch on this.

“Great, let them take a picture of you and Harper out having dinner. That’s ‘normal.’” I hook air quotes for the ridiculous world we have created around us.

“Flynn.” Her voice is softer, like she is trying to get me to do the same, but it won’t work.

“Don’t you Flynn me! What part of your extremely intelligent brain thought that I would be okay with this?” I throw my hands in the air and feel like I want to walk back into the gym and run a thousand miles to try to get the rage out.

“Okay, stop, just stop!” She yells at me loud enough that it makes me stop and look at her, and her body language tells me she is about to let loose on me if I don’t listen to her. “I have a plan. I will meet him, get pictures, eat my entrée, and by thenHarper will call me with an emergency that I will have to leave straight away for. I will never be alone with him, and it will be over before you know it. I told you this is my life to control, and you need to let me do what I think is needed to keep my father blind to what is happening.”

The silence is deafening between us as we just stand there staring at each other. It’s like a standoff, and we’re both waiting to see who is going to break first.

I know it won’t be me because I can’t talk without yelling, it’s just not possible yet.

“He won’t touch me.” This time as she starts to take a slow step toward me, I can’t stop her. “I’m yours.” Ever so gently reaching, she takes my hands in hers. “You touched me last night in a way no man ever has before.”

“And no one will ever touch you that way again. I will be the first and the last man to ever be one with you.” I pull her into my arms. I’m still furious, but I can’t stay mad at her. It’s more the whole fucked-up mess that we’re in that I’m infuriated about.

“Nothing stands between us.” She looks up at me.

“Nothing stands between us. You’re mine.” I’m almost growling at her, and already in my head I’m thinking about what I will be making sure I have set up to keep her safe tonight.

“Yours.” Rising up on her toes, she tentatively kisses me to see what sort of reception she will get.

None of this tentative bullshit, I’m about to remind her who she belongs to before I leave.

I turn the kiss into one full of passion, and in a way, I’m trying to mark her so she won’t forget in a hurry how I taste… or feel.

“Bedroom now!”

The moment Felisha left the apartment with her ripped dress pants on, that were now held together with tape instead of the zipper, and my dress shirt hanging long over the top of them, I was straight on the phone to Remington.

“I want two bodyguards in that restaurant, as close as possible to their table. Another waiting outside if needed.” I tried to keep my voice businesslike, but poor Rem is getting the full brunt of all my anger now.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top? He isn’t looking to kidnap her.” I can imagine he is rolling his eyes at me on the other end of the phone, but I don’t care.

“No, he wants to fuck her and touch what’s mine. No way, no how is that happening. I don’t care if I have to blow this whole charade wide open, walk in there myself, and make sure he understands she’s not available to him—or anyone else for that matter.”

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