Page 62 of Glitter Rose
Seconds later, the lock clicks, and the door swings open. Mike’s massive frame fills the space, eyebrow raised, mouth curled in that smug half-smile that makes me want to rip his faceoff.
“Miss me already, sweetheart?”
I grab fistfuls of his shirt. “Is this your idea of a sick joke?”
His hands come up, resting on my waist. “Gonna need more details on what’s got you all worked up.”
“The box. The fucking blue box. How did you know? Who told you?”
Confusion flickers across his face before settling back into amusement. “No idea what you’re talking about, but I like this energy.” He draws me closer. “Maybe you should show me this box.”
“Don’t play stupid.” But doubt creeps in. His confusion seems genuine. If not Mike, then who? “Did Gabriel put you up to this?”
“Your brother doesn’t share his plans with me. But I’m happy to help you work through whatever’s got you so… passionate.”
He doesn’t know about Knox. About what the blue box means. About that night in the candlelight when I stupidly revealed my weakness to the one person who might actually have cared.
To an illusion.
Did I talk in my sleep, and Mike heard it?
I don’t know what’s real anymore.
I try to twist away, but his hands are locked. “Let go of me.”
“Now, now.” He clicks his tongue. “First you call for me, now you’re playing hard to get? Mixed signals.”
“I’m not playing anything.” I brace against his chest. “Let. Go. I swear to god, Mike, if you don’t?—”
“You’ll what?” He backs me toward my bed, kicking the door shut behind him. “File a complaint? Call security?”
“Mike.” I hit the mattress, falling back onto it. “Please.”
“Please?” He plants one knee between my legs on the bed. “Already begging?”
“I’m his sister.” My voice cracks. “If Gabriel finds out?—”
Mike’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “You really don’t get it, do you? He knows exactly what happens in here.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” His fingers find my throat, circling it like a collar. “Ask yourself why he assigned me to you specifically.”
His thumb traces my pulse point, and suddenly I’m back in my penthouse, Knox’s gentle touch, his gray eyes full of concern as he apologized for grabbing me during his nightmare.
No. Don’t think about Knox now. Don’t soil that memory with this.
Maybe that’s why my mind conjured him. He makes everything more bearable.
I try to scramble away, but he seizes my wrists, holding them above my head with his other hand.
“We’ve got a good thing going.” He lowers his face to mine, and I turn away. “I look after you, keep you safe. Don’t you want to thank me?”
“I’d rather thank a zombie.”
“You’re gonna regret that attitude.” His lips connect with my cheek, then trail down to my neck. Hot, wet, revolting.
“Stop,” I plead, hating the tremor in my voice. “Please stop.”
