By the end of the week, I decided to take Ginger for the weekend. Maybe a cooling off period would do Dawson and me some good. I prepared the trash for collection, not wanting to deal with it while I had Ginger, and the doorbell rang. I frowned. Who could that be on a Friday evening? I went and opened the door, finding myself up to my nose in a bouquet of white lilies. I backed away, a bit shocked.

 

The flowers moved, and I saw Dawson sporting the handsomest smile above the crispest dress shirt and pants. I couldn’t help but smile back. “Why are you ringing the bell?” I asked, making room for him to pass.

 

“I thought I’d be a gentleman tonight,” he said solemnly, handing me the flowers. I took the bouquet, and he bowed. I laughed as he added, “Not that I’m anything else most of the time. But I thought we should do something special.”

 

“Oh? I’m intrigued, Mr. Holt.”

 

I walked into the kitchen with him at my heels, and I arranged the flowers in a vase. He cleared his throat. “I made reservations at a nice Italian place. I think you’ll like it.”

 

“What if I had plans tonight?” I asked, my back still to him.

 

Met with silence, I turned to find a sheepish look on his face. “Do you?” he mumbled, eyes cast down. The news would have hit him hard, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. His concerned expression amused me more. “What?” he finally dared to ask. “Did I do something funny?”

 

I shook my head, unable to catch my breath. “No, baby. I don’t have any plans. I wanted to bring Ginger over, but that’s tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

I nodded, and his expression relaxed. This man would be my undoing, I just knew it. “Speaking of which, what is she doing while we’re on a date?”

 

“Ginger? Uh, she’s at a friend’s house. Sleep over.”

 

“Oh. We could have taken her, but if you approved, I suppose it’s all right.” But I was concerned that he’d made other plans for her to plan a night out.

 

“It is, trust me. I’m not that irresponsible,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. He knew what I was thinking every time, and I feared I was becoming too obvious.

 

He discreetly smelled of cologne, and it enveloped me, blending with his own scent. I leaned into his chest, and my arms found their way around his back. We stayed like that for a few minutes before he finally pushed me back and suggested I get ready before we lost our reservation. I shook my head, smiling at his attempted diplomacy. He looked confused as I left with no explanation.

 

When I came back, his jaw dropped, and I felt better than I had in a long time. I wore a classic little black dress with three-quarter sleeves and a medium neckline, paired with black peep-toe heels. I clipped my hair tightly at the back. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, trying to bring his eyes up to mine. My legs seemed to be his distraction, and he remained in stunned silence as I laughed. God, I hadn’t been this giddy in weeks!

 

I raised my arms in question. “So, are we going or what?”

 

It brought him back to earth. “What? Oh, yes, we need to leave.”

 

He waited while I checked my purse and then helped me into the knee-length gray wool coat I wanted to wear before holding the door for me. Not that he didn’t usually do these things, but tonight seemed truly special. He asked for the keys and locked the house, then took my hand as we walked toward a black Bentley parked in my driveway. I stared, stunned.

 

“I got it for tonight. I’m not much of a car guy, you know, but you deserve the best,” he clarified at my puzzlement. I laughed, incredulous. “What?”

 

I shrugged. “I did wonder if you planned on taking us on your bike.”

 

Chuckling, he opened the passenger door for me, tucked me in and closed it, and then he jogged to the driver’s side to start the car. The engine purred, and I felt luxurious, like a princess. We smiled at each other as he drove off.

 

His hand rested on my thigh the entire ride, and I noted the struggle in his face as he tried to remain chaste. Luckily, it was a short drive, and I was pleasantly surprised to find the new joint was just a few blocks away.

 

I joked, “This place better be extraordinary, if we’re staying in the neighborhood.” But I was already impressed by the high-end atmosphere at the establishment.

 

A valet took our car, and we walked hand in hand to the ornate double doors. The young hostess looked up and, hearing his name, hurried us to our table. She seated us by the window, facing each other, and I couldn’t help but stare at the expensive champagne on ice, right next to the delicate centerpiece. He wouldn’t…

 

An uneasy suspicion rose and would have tormented me throughout the evening if Dawson hadn’t worked so hard at being a perfect date. He pulled out my chair, ordered for me – but not over me – and poured my drinks. I was thoroughly impressed.

 

“So, what was so funny?” he finally asked.

 

“What?”

 

“Exactly!” he cried, pointing at me. We laughed, and my cheeks hurt from the joy written over my face all evening. “Seriously, though, when I told you about the date. Why did you laugh?”

 

“Oh, poor baby! Have you been thinking about that the whole time?” He looked especially pouty as I giggled and answered, “Your face.”

 

He looked confused. “Really? How?”

 

I shrugged. “You looked funny. Like a little boy who’d had a play date cancelled, toeing the ground at the thought of me having other engagements. You have to admit, though, your presentation of the surprise was a bit cocky.”

 

“Was it?” He seemed serious, and I lost my smile. I started to tell him I didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Gotcha!” He reached for his glass, and my confusion dissipated fast enough that I threatened to splash my drink in his face.

 

The evening went beautifully, and we had a wonderful meal. I was admittedly surprised at his classy taste, and I told him so. Feigning offense, he asked, “What, because I’m a biker, I must be some sort of urban brute?”

 

I settled in the car and waited for him to get in before replying, “No, baby. You just don’t seem to go out much, so I didn’t think you were into the whole dinner date thing. I’m glad you proved me wrong.”

 

He leaned in for a kiss. “It’s all right. I was joking. How would you like to see the city from a Bentley?”

 

I nodded, and we spent a couple of hours perusing the streets as I cuddled comfortably into the warm seat and he watched me with desire in his eyes. His hungry gaze warmed me, and I didn’t have to look at him to grow eager. I suggested we head home, and he took me to his place.

 

Inside, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me until lack of oxygen left me lightheaded. I pulled back for a breath, then sought his lips again. His hands were on my thighs, lifting my dress and kneading my flesh with strong fingers. I loved how he squeezed my ass, almost lifting me off my feet.

 

I fumbled with his buttons until the only barrier between us was his undershirt. He took his tie off and lost the shirt. Slamming against me once more, he caught my inflamed lips but cut it short as his landline rang.

 

“Who still has a landline?” I grumbled to myself as he went to answer.

 

“Hi, Mom,” I heard him say, especially loud.

 

I wondered why he felt the need to indicate who called as an answer to my question as the conversation ensued at a volume I could no longer hear. I thought of following him, but listening in wasn’t polite, so I stayed in the living room.

 

I took in the room and noted for the first time how organized he was. Everything was neatly placed in a simple design, giving the entire room an illusion of greater space. I liked him more and more, feeling he was made for me. The last few weeks almost disappeared in a fog of daydreams.

 

Looking out the window, I saw it had started to rain, and I wondered if Ginger was all right at her friend’s. I hoped they didn’t sleep in a treehouse or tent. Crazy concern, but I worried. My thoughts were interrupted as the front door opened. I jumped, seeing a man enter, bringing the violent rain with him, and I realized suddenly my dress was still in disarray. One look at the stranger, and I remembered him as the man Dawson had words with some time ago. I shivered and got a terrible feeling this wouldn’t end well.

 

Still puzzled by his presence, I noted I hadn’t heard a motorcycle arriving. I glanced at the door and saw he’d come by car, the black sedan parked right on Dawson’s lawn. I didn’t see anyone else inside. My eyes fell back on the man. He sported a dirty smile that promised nothing good for its target, and I cowered.

 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he asked, walking toward me. He left the door open, and the loud rain must’ve covered his voice because Dawson continued talking to his mother.

 

I backed up and hit the wall, still trying to make the connection between the danger I sensed and the man before me.

 

“A present. And she’s even quiet. Good find, Dawson, good find,” he went on, just inches from me now. He drew a hand up my thigh, and I bolted to one side. I found my path blocked by furniture in Dawson’s direction and had to run the other way. “Now, now, jumpy, let me have a taste, would you…”

 

His menacing glare and leering grin turned my stomach, tying it in knots. I moved for the door, but he caught me by the waist and pinned me, face to the wall. I struggled against his weight to no avail, and I tried to scream, but my dry throat failed, mute with my shock.

 

Only a whimper escaped, and he laughed at my attempt, whispering, “Just the way I like my women, putting up a fight.”

 

I felt his erection pushing against my back, and I broke into a cold sweat. Disgust and fear pumped my adrenaline, and I finally screamed for Dawson. “Help! Please!” I managed before he jerked me back and covered my mouth and nose. I panicked, couldn’t breathe, and I writhed against him.

 

“What the…” I heard the man say before letting me go.

 

I ran to the door and stopped. Turning, I saw Dawson and the man facing each other in the living room, both poised for a violent confrontation. I’d never seen Dawson this way, pure rage burning in his eyes. Terrifying.

 

“Don’t touch my woman, Neil. I’ll kill you, and nobody will know you ever existed. I’ll. Wipe. You. Out.” The last words came through clenched teeth, and I saw fear in the other man’s eyes. He looked at me, then at Dawson, like he wanted to assure what he heard was real.

 

He scoffed. “You can’t do that, man,” he tried.

 

“Watch me!” Dawson barked, and the man shrunk against the wall.

 

“You’d threaten me for a woman, Holt? Hos over bros?” Despite Dawson’s authority, I saw the man could really turn into a problem for me.

 

Dawson and I stepped closer, intent on controlling the situation. But before I could take his hand, Dawson growled, “I’m not your brother; I’m your fucking boss. So get the fuck out of here before I rip you apart!”

 

I froze. Boss? I grew lightheaded at the implication, and my vision closed in as I fell into darkness.