Page 91 of Black Sheep

I stare at the brunette, trying to get a read on her.

She takes a sip of her drink, her eyes on me. “Don’t try and figure me out, darling. Many have tried and failed.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re…intriguing.”

A smile flashes across her face, gone too soon, but not before I glimpse the stunning beauty of the carefully practiced badass demeanor. “Thanks, I try. And for your information and peace of mind, should you need it, no, Axel and I aren’t sleeping together. Never have. Don’t intend to.”

A tight knot I was refusing to acknowledge eases in my gut. Enough to loosen my tongue. “Has he…done this before?”

She gives me a wry smile, despite the flash of sympathy I see in her eyes. “Sorry, honey. Cut me open and I bleed discretion. But I will say this. Axel likes his boxes. He keeps you here in this particular box for that reason.”

I frown. “But I’m the one who created this one.”

“Sweetheart, we both know who’s in control here. If it didn’t suit his purpose, you wouldn’t still be here. I take it that room you re-created means something to you both? But something not altogether good for you, I’m guessing?”

She’s ace at withholding stuff about herself while pumping me for info. I shouldn’t indulge her. And yet I find myself nodding. “Yes.”

“So he’s enduring your punishment with you?”

I startle. Then frown. “I…I guess so.”

“He owns the club. He could’ve moved you to any of two dozen other suites. He didn’t.” She keeps her eyes on me as she sips her drink.

I’m going to make amends, Cleo.

On the grand scale of wrongs that needed righting, this is a drop in the ocean. And yet the idea that Axel—despite his clear displeasure upon seeing the room—didn’t move me is disconcerting.

I don’t want to think about that while the woman with shrewd eyes continues to stare at me.

“Can we talk about something else?” I say.

She shrugs with effortless ease. “Sure, how about them Yankees?”

I laugh then glance at her sky-high heels. “How about them neck breakers?”

She laughs. The mood lifts. I decline another cocktail and settle for a soda on the next round. We spend another hour and a half on the roof bar before I head back downstairs. She leaves me at the door, and when I shut it behind me, I lean against it with a frown.

The swiftness with which my heart leapt at B’s conclusion still worries me. What kind of person am I to be grasping at the flimsiest excuse to absolve a heinous crime?

And the sheer delight that stains my bloodstream every time he touches me?

What about telling me he won’t let me return to Finnan? Did he mean forever? Or until he’s done with me?

I drag myself from the door, my thoughts spinning in wild circles.

Chapter Twenty-Six

ATONEMENT: PART TWO

My thoughts are still spinning when Axel enters the dressing room just after seven thirty. My hands freeze as I’m slipping on the choker, and he stumbles to a halt.

“Fuck, you look incredible.” The hoarse words burst from him, his eyes raking me with feverish intensity as he prowls forward.

“Thank you,” I murmur. Through the mirror, my own gaze absorbs the animalistic dominance that seems infused into his drop-dead-sexy body. Dressed in a black dress shirt and pants, with a superbly cut jacket thrown over the ensemble, the figure he cuts is captivating, guaranteed to turn heads everywhere. Couple that with the stubble he’s maintained all week—on account of it driving me wild when he grazes my inner thighs with it—and the lightly gelled slicked-back look he’s sporting now, and I fear brain damage if I look too long at him. It’s how every woman out there will feel too when they look at him. I hate the dart of anxiety that accompanies the thought.

I hold my breath as he steps behind me and brushes my hands away to secure the choker. Then his hands drift over my shoulders to caress my bare arms. Beneath the chiffon, my nipples tingle and stand to attention, their shameless craving echoing throughout my body.

His hooded gaze locks on mine. “You ready?”

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