Page 45 of Hostile King

“Tommy. Open the fucking door,” André calls from the corridor. “I need to take my girl home.”

I freeze. He spins around to where I’m kneeling upright amidst a downy duvet. Our eyes lock, the rich ebony of his gaze flashes for a fleeting second, the depths of his stare obscure. His expression morphs to murderous.

“You arrived with André.” Stretching his neck, he straightens his spine, authority consuming him again. “You’ll leave with my brother and get in the car downstairs. No looking back.”

Hurriedly, I tug at the opening of my robe to cover my breasts and scramble off the bed, too late to demand more information when he unlocks and opens the door. A blur of leather and energy barrels into the suite. André is wearing aviator sunglasses indoors, a supple biker jacket, and ass fitting jeans, no longer the polished power player from last night.

Shane checks the corridor before closing the door behind him and joining us. “Tommy.” He cocks a knowing brow, clearly aware of his next steps. “You ready to rock ‘n’ roll?”

Tomás nods, smooths out his sleeves and rotates his cufflinks.

“Here’s your boots.” André winks at me. “Didn’t think you’d be a utility boot sort of woman. I’d put you in studded Valentino heels or patent Louboutin’s.”

I take the box from him and hug it close to my chest.

“She can wear whatever the fuck she wants,” Tomás growls. “Do you want heels?” He looks right at me.

André chuckles. “I’m just saying, she looks good in heels.”

“These are fine,” I mutter, aware of the three sets of eyes all focused on my messy hair and roughly cinched robe. “My wish list isn’t that big.”

“What’s on your list?” Tomás frowns.

“Christ, Tommy.” Shane drags a hand down his face before checking his Apple watch. “We don’t have time for this. She needs to get dressed. The car is leaving any minute.”

The whole time Shane addresses him, Tomás’ gaze never leaves mine, holding me prisoner in a silent cage forged with lust and secrets. His eyes dance from syrupy molasses to the color of the deepest ocean where air is nonexistent. “Is it something you’ve always desired, but could never afford?”

I shake my head and scrunch up my nose. “This might come as a shock to you, Tomás, but it’s not all about money.” Grabbing the garment bag from the foot of the bed, I start to walk to the bathroom.

He’s behind me in a heartbeat. The voice in my ear is gravelly and impatient, his looming height dominating my senses. “What is it? There’s something you want.”

“Tommy…we need to go. You’re stalling…” Shane urges, his tolerance fading.

“Wait a fucking minute,” Tomás hisses under his breath, his solid build tight to my spine. “I’ll ask you one more time. What’s on your wish list?”

The scent of his musky cologne whispers over my shoulder. I sigh heavily and lower my lashes to the boot box in my arm. “Trust,” I reply simply. “Implicit trust without question.” I pause for a beat to savor his hot breath on my scalp. “And acceptance of the person I am today and the woman I’ve yet to become.” Taking a step forward to grant myself space, I glance back at him to meet his hardened expression. “But most of all, I want to be loved…by you.”

Creases furrow his brow like I’ve asked too much of him. His feet shift, ready to move in any direction. He clears his throat and fingers the collar around his neck. My heart thunders when he sighs. “You seem to understand me better than anyone, Carina. You should know I trust you. Acceptance isn’t even up for debate. What do you think all this is for?”

I laugh icily, fear charging through me. “But I don’t have your love?”

His eyes turn wild. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” I whisper. “Which makes you a coward.”

A slow and low whistle draws my gaze to André. He winces in the aftermath of my forbidden slur. My staunch show of disrespect.

I should know better than to challenge him. However, he admitted to offering me a false sense of freedom. He had lied to me. In reality, there was no decision for me to make.

Tomás wanted my verbal commitment and now I demand his.

I want his truth. His words. His declaration of real love.

He scrubs his handsome face out of frustration, followed by a slow swipe of his top teeth with his tongue. His posture remains rigid. His indecipherable stare locked on me for a silent eternity.

“Get into the bathroom, Cari,” he orders, painfully controlled as if he’s clipped to a leash for my protection. I stand tall before him, purposely disobeying his command. I won’t back down.

“Tommy!” Shane urges. “We gotta go.”

---