Page 14 of Blackmail
I manage a step away before a strong arm snakes around me, turning me a bit so my back faces the restaurant. Then he bends his head so far that he looks like he might be going in for a kiss.
“What are you doing?” I meant my words to sound forceful and all “get the hell away from me, you dick.” I’m sure I did. That’s not how it comes out, though. I’m clutching his upper arms and spitting breathy whispers like some swooning maiden.
Fuck this shit. I straighten up and move to push him away, but his arm tightens more. Unless I want to fight him off, I have no choice. I hate how much I like not having one. I hate how much I like the way he feels against me.
“The hostess and manager are watching us from the door,” he murmurs. “I don’t want them to think there’s a problem. Do you?”
No, I really don’t. God forbid law enforcement happens to show up. If they figure out what kind of “date” this is, one of us stands a good chance of getting arrested, and it isn’t the rich boy.
What doesn’t help matters, though, is the crackling energy flowing between us where our bodies touch, which is practically everywhere. He’s so close I can feel him hardening against me. I wish I could say I wasn’t responding, but I’d be a filthy liar.
I hate lying. But I do love being filthy.
“Look, Brennan has a reputation for confidentiality.” I manage to put a little more power in my words than before. “Even if I wanted to help—and I’ll be honest, I don’t—he wouldn’t be cool with me tattling on one of his clients. I owe him too much for that, and I can’t risk getting on his bad side.”
Angry Husband seems to consider this. Without letting go of me, he eases back and looks toward the sky full of menacing gathering clouds that match his eyes. Thank fuck I’ve got my old Jeep closed up today.
“What do you think would happen if I put a call in to law enforcement? Gave them your name and description. Right down to that crazy back tattoo.”
It takes a second for what he’s saying to sink in. This fucking guy. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he’s threatening me or the fact that his threats are doing nothing to take the edge off my erection.
Nor his. He’s enjoying watching me squirm right now.
I jerk backward but don’t manage to go anywhere. He’s holding me tight, but it’d probably be easier if I let go of his biceps. I’d bet all the money in my savings account that he can feel how hard my heart is beating.
“If you get me arrested, Brennan will get me out. And you won’t want to be around when he’s looking to place blame.”
Probably. Hopefully. Brennan’s gotten some of the other guys out of scrapes. The trouble is, it’s a risk I really don’t want to take. Nursing jobs require a background check, and having an arrest on my record could derail all of my future plans.
“Are you sure about that, Simon?” Angry Husband’s knowing look makes me wonder if he can read minds.
“Are you fucking serious? You’re actually trying to blackmail me right now. Why don’t you talk to the guy who cheated on you?”
And why does it feel so good to have his palm pressed between my shoulder blades right now? Part of me wants to rip this guy’s face off for being such a dick, and then there’s a part farther south that wouldn’t mind settling this another way.
“We’ve talked. He seems to think I overreacted, and that him occasionally screwing other men shouldn't be a deal-breaker. On the other hand, I think his actions show a complete lack of the loyalty he promised when we agreed to marry so he can go straight to hell. At this point, we’ve reached an impasse. Not that it's any business of yours.”
Impasse. Fucking rich people and their big words.
“Right, so you’re trying to force me into helping instead?—”
A loud clap of thunder is all the warning we get before the sky opens up.
“This way,” he commands. Before I even process it, he grabs my hand and drags me toward the parking lot.
My car is in the other direction, in the back corner. When I open my mouth to say so, nothing comes out. This man is marching me to my doom as if he has the right to command me.
His hand feels good gripping mine. Warm, firm. I should pull away; I know I should.
But I don’t.
Chapter
Six
SEBASTIAN
My black Cayenne is parked around the corner from the front door. We make it there in under thirty seconds. Still, we’re both drenched by the time we climb in.
