Page 73 of Dangerous Temptation
There it was, that anger that poked through the surface every so often. It had made fewer appearances recently, but she was beginning to understand it wasn’t going away. That anger was bone deep inside him.
She put down her drink and moved closer. As warm as his body was, he was stiff and uncompromising. She cosied up to him, trying to take some of that anger away. She knew she had power over it, and it didn’t scare her.
His fury was justified. He’d taken the brunt of the blame in the scandal, simply because he’d been available. Bartholomew hadn’t been around and her father had been dead. Alex had a right to be outraged, but she didn’t like how it ate him up from the inside.
She spread a hand over his chest above his heart, and he wrapped his arms around her.
‘You think I should beg for forgiveness.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. But you have to understand the way people think. Your grandfather still hasn’t faced the accusations, and you’re the closest thing to him.’
‘I’m not my grandfather.’ Alex snorted in derision. ‘And he won’t be saying he’s sorry, that’s for sure.’
Her fingers paused where she was stroking his tie.
Letting go of her, he drew a hand through his hair. ‘He never apologised for anything he did in his life. Ever.’
Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked fast. The bastard. How could someone do the things that man had done and not feel the slightest bit of remorse?
Then again, her father had never said he was sorry either.
Not even in his suicide note.
She closed her eyes and cleared her throat.
‘I’m nervous about this,’ she confessed. ‘Maybe returning to New York wasn’t such a good idea.’
‘There’s no going back now.’ He cupped her chin. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.’
‘But who’s going to protect you?’
He laughed, but the sound held no humour. ‘I don’t need anyone to protect me. They’ve already done their damnedest. What more could they do?’
She shivered, not wanting to think about that. Going up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. ‘It’s not much, but I’ve got your back.’
His nose brushed against hers as he looked into her face. ‘That’s not “not much”, pretty siren. It’s everything.’
The press was waiting the next day, milling about on the Park Avenue sidewalk. They knew what time the Wolfe Financial board meeting was, and they knew there was a good chance they’d finally see their target today. Alex Wolfe had avoided them for too long, locked down in the Wolfe compound. He’d travelled back to the city yesterday, though, and all indicators pointed to the meeting as the reason.
They couldn’t help but salivate.
It was a juicy story. They’d squeezed as much out of it as they could a year and a half ago, but it was spinning up again. The heartthrob tech whiz convicted of white-collar crimes was returning to the city he’d once ruled. Had prison changed the boy wonder? Was he more humble now? Had the degradation beaten him down? Was he finally ready to admit to his wrongs?
Or had the time he’d spent on the inside made him even more dangerous? The sharp-dressed billionaire had always had an edge.
Would The Ax be out for revenge?
People wanted to know, and it was their job to dig up the facts.
A black limousine pulled up to the kerb, and the mob went on the alert. Reporters checked their mics, and cameramen stooped to try to see through the darkened windows. Was this it? A murmur went through the crowd when the driver stepped out. He closed the door, tugged at his jacket sleeves and made sure they covered his shirt cuffs. He tucked in his chin and pulled back his shoulders as he rounded the car. The guy was built like a Mack truck.
It was the Mr T Mohawk, though, that gave him away. This was the same driver who’d picked up Wolfe at the prison. The man took his place at the car’s passenger-side door and glared at them.
Excitement rose. Simultaneously, heads turned to the posh building’s front door. The doorman became twitchy. He stared over their heads, ignoring them, but tugged at the collar of his uniform as if it were too tight.
A reporter up front stood on tiptoe and saw movement inside. ‘He’s coming.’
The message passed swiftly through the crowd. Alex Wolfe was about to make an appearance. The group compacted, bodies bumping and arms tangling as they thrust their microphones forward. Their time would be short. The distance from the door to the car was only about ten feet. They had to make this count.
