Wrong Place, Wrong Man

Chapter 7

But she didn’t apologise.
Didn’t lower her gaze.
Didn’t take it back.
Something warm and unfamiliar curled low in my stomach.
I put down my glass.
And stood.
Her expression changed.
There you are.
For all that mouth, she was afraid.
Good.
I walked around the desk.
She watched every step.
The closer I got, the faster the pulse became in her throat.
But she didn’t move.
That interested me more than it should have.
I stopped in front of her.
She was taller than I’d thought, helped by the ridiculous heels.
Still shorter than me.
Her perfume reached me now.
Something light.
Clean.
Entirely wrong for this room.
I looked down at her.
“You’re frightened.”
“No shit.”
My eyebrow lifted.
She was either extraordinarily brave or catastrophically incapable of controlling her mouth.
I suspected the second.
“Yet you’re not crying.”
“Would it help?”
“No.”
“Then that seems inefficient.”
There it was again.
That mouth.
“Interesting.”
“I get that a lot.”
“I doubt it.”
Her pupils changed slightly when my voice lowered.
So did her breathing.
I noticed.
I shouldn’t have.
I asked if she knew what happened to witnesses.
Finally, the performance cracked.
Not completely.
Enough.
Her mouth went dry. She swallowed before answering.
“You kill them.”
Yes.
Usually.
And until approximately five minutes ago, that had been the obvious solution.
I looked at her hands.
They were trembling.
So the defiance wasn’t ignorance.
It wasn’t stupidity.
She knew exactly what could happen to her and was doing it anyway.
“You understand your situation, then.”
“I understand that I had spectacularly bad luck tonight.”
Not the answer I’d asked for.
Of course.
I stepped closer.
She stayed exactly where she was.
“Most people beg by now.”
“Maybe I’m saving it.”
“For when?”
“When I think it’ll work.”
“Do you?”
She frowned. “Do I what?”
“Think it would work.”
That made her look at me differently.
Not frightened this time.
Assessing.
She studied my face, my clothes, the room around us.
My men.
Then she said quietly, “No.”
Something about the certainty of it irritated me.
Something else pleased me.
“No?”
“I could beg.”
Her voice shook slightly now.
“I could get on my knees. I could crawl over there, hold on to your legs and promise you anything you wanted.”
An image I had absolutely no business entertaining entered my mind.
I dismissed it.
Immediately.
Then she continued.
“I could probably offer you myself, but I doubt I’d be the first woman who’s tried that.”
My gaze dropped to her mouth.
Fuck.
That was the first moment I understood she might become a problem of an entirely different kind.
Not because she offered herself.
She hadn’t.
Quite the opposite.
She was telling me I couldn’t have her.
Standing in my building.
Surrounded by my men.
With absolutely no power except the ability to say no.
And she used it.
“So no. I’m not going to beg.”
“Pride.”
She swallowed.
“It’s about the only thing I have left.”
I moved closer.
Her breath caught.
There.
Again.
Fear wasn’t the only thing happening between us anymore.
I could see the exact second she realised it too.
“Pride has very little value in a room like this, Bonnie.”
Her name felt strange in my mouth.
Too soft.
“Maybe. But I’d rather die with it than spend my last five minutes boring you.”
I smiled.
Barely.
Her eyes dropped.
To my mouth.
I went still.
Interesting.
She kept looking for a fraction too long.
Then another.
“You’re staring.”
Her gaze snapped upward.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Colour touched her cheeks.
My irritation disappeared completely.
Something far more entertaining replaced it.
“For a woman who may not leave this room alive, you seem remarkably interested in my mouth.”
“You think highly of yourself.”
“I don’t need to.”
That annoyed her.
Good.
I liked the way anger changed her.
Fear made her careful.
Anger made her reckless.
And then she proved it.
She stepped toward me.
Before I could decide what she intended, her hand closed around my jacket and shirt.
And she pulled.
Every man in the room reacted.
I heard weapons move.
Shoes scrape against the floor.
Marco curse quietly.
I raised one hand.
Everything stopped.
I didn’t take my eyes off her.
Her fingers were still twisted in my shirt.
She’d surprised herself.
I could see that too.
She had made the move before deciding what came after it.
My eyes dropped to her hand.
Small.
Pale.
Trembling slightly against black fabric.
Then back to her face.
“That was unwise.”
“Probably.”
“Yet you’re still doing it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her fingers tightened.
She explained.
Pride.
Control.
The only thing she had left.
Then she looked directly into my eyes.
“But you don’t get this.”
“This?”
“Me begging.”
Something inside me shifted.
I closed my hand around her wrist.
Her pulse hammered beneath my fingers.
Fast.
Much faster than her expression suggested.
I could have removed her hand.
Instead, I left it exactly where it was.
My thumb settled against her pulse.
“You’re shaking.”
“I never said I wasn’t scared.”
No.
She hadn’t.
That was the difference.
Bravery was rarely the absence of fear.
Usually, it was stupidity.
But occasionally it was someone looking directly at the thing frightening them and refusing to give it what it wanted.
My thumb moved once against her wrist.
“No. You didn’t.”
Her breath changed.
So did mine.
I shouldn’t have touched her again.
I knew that.
I did it anyway.
My free hand lifted.
My thumb brushed her lower lip.
Soft.
Warmer than I’d expected.
Her breath caught.
And suddenly the room felt too quiet.
Her eyes dropped.
Not to my hand.
To my mouth.
Again.
This time she didn’t even pretend otherwise.
I watched her watching me.
Watched the confusion move behind those blue eyes as fear collided with something she clearly hadn’t expected.
Attraction.
The realisation hit me with a slow, dark satisfaction.
She wanted to know what my mouth felt like.
And the more disturbing truth followed immediately behind it.
I wanted to show her.
That was enough.
I removed my thumb.
She barely seemed to notice.
“Bonnie.”
Nothing.
Still staring.
I almost smiled.
“Bonnie.”
Her eyes finally lifted to mine.
I should have ended it there.
One order.
One bullet.
No witness.
No complication.
Instead, I heard myself say,
“Run.”
She blinked.
“What?”
I released her wrist.
“You wanted a chance.”
I stepped away before I changed my mind.
“I’m giving you one.”
Confusion replaced the heat in her face.
Good.
I preferred confusion.
It was safer.
“If you get away from my men, you’re free.”
“And if I don’t?”
My mouth curved.
“Then we continue our conversation.”
She immediately looked suspicious.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t need to.”
Her eyes moved around the room.
Counting.
Calculating.
Already planning.
Of course she was.
“How much of a head start?”
“Thirty seconds.”
Her expression turned offended.
“That’s insulting.”
I stared at her.
“Twenty.”
“You just went down.”
“You complained.”
“You’re an asshole.”
I nearly laughed.
“Fifteen.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You can’t just keep subtracting time.”
“Ten.”
“Fine!”
There she was.
I slipped my hand into my pocket, mostly so I wouldn’t reach for her again.
“Then I suggest you stop arguing.”
She looked at the men.
The door.
The corridor.
Then at me.
I let my gaze fall slowly to those ridiculous black heels.
She followed it.
When she looked back up, irritation flashed in her eyes.
I smiled.
Just enough.
“Bonnie?”
“What?”
I held her gaze.
“Run.”
She turned.
And ran.
The door slammed behind her.
Silence.
Marco looked at me.
Then at the door.
Then back at me.
“Boss.”
I picked up my glass.
“What?”
He hesitated.
That was wise.
Finally, he looked toward the corridor Bonnie had disappeared into.
“Ten seconds?”
I took a drink.
“Nine.”
Marco stared at me.
“Eight.”
That got him moving.
He turned toward the door.
“Marco.”
He stopped.
I looked at the red mark along his jaw.
Then at the bite mark on his hand.
My mouth curved.
“Try not to underestimate her again.”
He looked at me for a long second.
“Yeah.”
He glanced down at his hand.
“I figured that part out.”
The door closed behind him.
I was alone with the quiet again.
Exactly how I liked it.
I looked toward the door.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
For the first time that evening, I found myself hoping a complication would become considerably more difficult to solve.