Page 5 of Garnish with a Candy Cane
“She was too drunk to drive so I had one of my men take her home. She’s fine.”
Again, I’m skirting the truth but my explanation must appease her and she slowly nods, looking around at my office that she realizes now isn’t a bathroom. I smile from the memory, and she doesn’t seem to appreciate my jovial expression. Dread pinches her face as her gaze flicks from me to my jacket now heaped on the floor to the crease in the cushion from where she slept all night. A shudder rolls through her, and she looks down at her dress, tugging the hem as far as the fabric will go down her thighs. Regret darkens her expression seemingly from the lack of material to cover herself.
“What happened?”
Shame floods her voice, and I know what she implies. Luckily, I was a better man last night than I am most of the time. And more generous than I normally am this morning to actually take time to defend myself. For some reason, with her, I feel the need to have her know the truth. To believe me. “We talked –onlytalked – before you passed out.”
I give her a minute to think that assertion over. To realize she’s unharmed – fully clothed, no battering or bruises, maybe a little hung over but not drugged. Her shoulders sink down, and she relaxes a little. Until I stand up, and she pulses in alarm with me towering over her. Scooching back away from me like a cornered animal as I peer down at her. “Don’t be scared. If I was going to fuck you, I would’ve done it already.”
That assurance must not sound as comforting as I intended from the horror exploding on her face. Fuck. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you, Duchess. I’m not Tristan.”
A shaking hand lifts to her temple, and she digs her fingertips into her skin, frowning as she scans my face. So much confusion swirling with her blank memory. Terrified from the time missing after losing her friend. Although more importantly, even if she doesn’t know it yet, the pleasure of me finding her.
“My name’s Noelle and how do you know about Tristan?”
“You told me last night.”
“Last night?” She searches the walls frantically although I have no idea what she’s trying to find. “What time is it?”
I check my watch before connecting again with her frantic face. “Almost seven fifteen.”
“Oh my gosh! I’ve got to go.”
She finally makes it to her feet only to wobble again from those stupid stilettos, and I scoop her up before she slams back to the carpet. Second time I’ve rescued her, and the feeling of her safe in my arms just gets better every damn time. “Whoa slow down. I’ll get you where you need to be.”
“You don’t understand. I have breakfast with my grandmother. I have to be there by eight.” She shakes her head, clenching her eyes shut against my gaze. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Heidi talk me into coming here.”
Guilt saturates her cracking voice. I hate her berating herself for an evening out that I know she deserves. Always the good granddaughter, she’s scared of letting down the woman she loves because she had some fun. I’m sure as hell not going to let that happen. “Because she hates to eat alone, I know. But I promise she won’t. I’ll get you there in time.”
Her eyes pop open, shiny with despair. “Why are you helping me?”
I smile down at her, wondering the same thing. Although my uncertainty can’t be explained, the perplexity doesn’t change how I feel. “I don’t know.”
God’s truth, and she looks just as baffled as I feel. Neither of us have time to argue or figure it out with the deadline looming. I yank open the door and hustle past Cedric, Sam, and Otis guarding me and my office.
“Boss?”
Surprise blooms on Cedric’s face just as bold as Duchess’s expression from me sweeping down the corridor with her. The men sprint to catch up while she stares in shock that we’re being escorted. Now that I have someone else to protect, their roles are that much more critical.
Sam looks less curious yet hurries just as quick to open the back door so I can exit. “Morning Mr. Toscani.”
Without waiting for an answer, he rushes around us once I step onto the asphalt, to yank open the passenger door of my Veyron. I can’t gauge from her expression if she’s impressed from the car or terrified that I’m tucking her inside without asking her consent, so I focus on striding to the driver’s side before she considers plotting an escape. I drop inside and in rapid succession hit the ignition, the heat since her dress is way too skimpy for the chilly autumn morning, and the accelerator, not giving her any opportunity to protest. Only chancing a glance over at her until the gates glide apart and I’m on the road. “Okay, where do I need to go?”
She clutches her seatbelt as if I’m flying while I’m only doing about twenty until I know the route. “My apartment please. I’d like to take a quick shower.”
Just the mere thought of her wet and naked makes me hard, and I grip the steering wheel tighter. The raging blush covering her cheeks reflects her innocence of even having to say the word. “What’s the address?”
“1128 Lombard.”
Only a few blocks from here, and we’re definitely heading in the wrong direction. I easily do a quick u-turn across the lanes with the lack of traffic this early in the morning and head toward her place. Albeit I’m unhappy with the destination. A shitty neighborhood that’s totally inappropriate for someone as vulnerable as her to live, especially alone. One of the first things I need to remedy.
“Thank you for helping me. I know this is an imposition, and I really do appreciate it.”
Gratitude twists with shame in her voice. While neither sentiment is necessary. I’ll do anything for her. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m pretty sure I talked too much last night if you know about my grandma. I never drink, and I didn’t realize the alcohol would hit me so hard.”
Now I know what’s bothering her, and I’m glad I can easily absolve her of any unnecessary guilt. “You were fine.” I glance over and wink, grateful she’s stopped talking to her hands in her lap. “Only a little bit annoying.”
