Page 2 of Positively Pricked
I couldn’t.
I barely knew the guy. And yet, just yesterday evening, he'd gotten all grabby after a few cocktails too many. For allIknew, he didn't even remember.
ButIdid.
If I weren't so busy scurrying down the hall, I might've shuddered with revulsion. But instead, I kept on going, trying like hell to forget the feel of his hand squeezing my ass, and then worse, going in for the crack.
It was this particular recollection that led to a new discovery. Turns out, youcouldshudder and scurry at the same time.Go figure.
As I watched, Zane rounded the corner, still dragging the senator behind him. The way it looked, they were heading for the elevators – my steps faltered – or,oh crap, the stairwell.
I said a silent prayer.Please be the elevators. Please be the elevators…
I called out, "Don't you dare take the stairs!"
Whether Zane heard me or not, I had no idea. With a muttered curse, I kept on going, praying that the next sound from the corridorwouldn'tbe the bumpity bump of the senator getting tossed down the stairway.
A split second later, the screaming stopped, and I almost feared the worst. I rounded the corner just in time to see Zane yank the senator up by his jacket and shove him hard against the wall between the two nearest elevators.
Zane was tall and powerfully built. As for the senator, he'd been a pro football player back in the day. But those days were long gone, and the only thing he tackled now were women half his age.
Oh sure, he stilllookedimposing, but looks, I decided, could be deceiving. And besides, the guy holding him against the wall was pretty imposing himself. If I were a betting gal – which I wasn't – I'd have put all my money on Zane.
Now that I'd actually caught up to them, I wasn't quite sure what to do. After all, Zane wasn't dragging the guy anymore, so that was good, right? Silently, I edged forward, hoping to catch Zane's elbow and maybe gently ease him away from the senator.
I was halfway there when Zane finally spoke. In a voice filled with menace, he leaned closer to the senator and said, "If youevertouch her again, I'll break off those fucking fingers." His grip visibly tightened. "And then, I'll shove them down your fucking throat."
I froze.What?
Again, Zane shoved the senator against the wall. "Are we clear?"
I stood in stunned confusion. Who on Earth was he talking about?
He couldn’t meanme.
Could he?
No. He couldn’t. Definitely not.
If I weren’t so stressed, I might have laughed at the mere thought. After all, Zane hatedmejust as much as I hatedhim.
And seriously, wasn'tIfull of myself? Like Zane would go to any trouble on my behalf.
Probably, I decided, the senator had gotten grabby with someone else, like maybe an important guest or, heaven forbid, Zane's latest squeeze, whoever she wasthistime.
I tried to think. I'd ditched the senator just after midnight, which left plenty of time for another round of slurring and ass-grabbing with whatever random female happened to cross his path next.
Still, we had security for that sort of thing. So why would Zane Bennington – who owned not only this hotel but countless others worldwide – take such a personal interest?
Trying to make sense of it all, I studied Zane's face in profile. For as long as I'd known him – which, granted, wasn't forever – he'd been the epitome of control.
And yet, he didn't look in control now.
He looked ready to break the senator in two. When the senator offered no coherent response, Zane gave him another shove and repeated his question, more slowly this time. "Are. We. Clear?"
The senator swallowed. "I, uh, what?"
More confused than ever, I stepped toward them.
