Page 49 of Craving Danger

I’m up and out of my office at the speed of light, and as I rush through the back entrance to the club, Milo and Lorenzo kill their cigarettes and give me a worried look.

“What’s wrong?” Milo asks.

“Nothing. I’m going to Samantha’s place,” I say as I open the back door of the G-Wagon.

My men pile into the vehicle, and when we’re on our way, my thoughts return to the clusterfuck of a day I’ve had.

This morning I was extra harsh with Samantha so she doesn’t figure out who I am. I also wanted her to go home and rest, but that fucking backfired on me.

She wasn’t supposed to be at the office when Renzo and Dario arrived, and when Dario held out his hand to her, I didn’t intervene because I wanted to see whether our meetings were helping her.

Watching Samantha struggle to breathe while her green eyes were drowning in terror is up there with the worst shit I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some fucked up shit in my life.

Milo stops the G-Wagon near the side of the building, and as I open the door, I say, “I might be a while.”

“The balaclava,” Lorenzo reminds me.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I quickly pull it over my head, and when I get out of the vehicle, I run toward the fire escape.

One day someone is going to see me and call the police on my ass.

When I reach Samantha’s open window, I climb through and find her pacing in the living room.

Her head swings to me, her eyes wide and her features drawn tight.

Christ, I need to hold her.

“Can I hug you?” I ask as I slowly move closer to her.

Her face crumbles, and her head bobs up and down.

I close the distance between us, and the moment my arms wrap around her, a sob escapes her lips.

I pull her tightly to my chest, and even though the fucking balaclava is in the way, I press a kiss to the top of her head.

I can’t describe what I feel as I finally get to hold her in my arms, but it’s so fucking powerful it leaves me breathless.

She places her hand against my chest, and her fingers fist the fabric of my shirt.

“I’m not getting better,” she whimpers.

“You are. You’re letting me hold you.”

She pulls away from me. “I tried to shake a man’s hand today and ended up having a panic attack in front of my boss.” She lifts her hand and tucks her hair behind her ear. “God, he’s going to fire me.”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” she argues. “The man has no soul, never mind a heart. He has a new PA every couple of months. I made so many mistakes today he’s probably plotting my death.”

Christ, it sounds like she hates me.

“I seriously doubt that.”

She starts to pace again and cover her mouth with her hand when a sob bursts from her.

Fuck this.

I stalk toward her and pull her back into my arms. “Don’t worry about work right now. Let’s focus on you.”

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