I’m overreacting, I know I am, but fuck! What did I do to deserve the ice queen treatment? If I didn’t know better I’d buy into it, but I do know better. I know how soft and tender she can be. And I’m going to make damn sure she knows I do.
The drive back to Kalista’s apartment building is filled with uncomfortable silence. Anxious to be out of this confined space, I search for the remote to open her buildings parking unit, finding it on the underside of her visor I hit the clicker as we draw nearer. It’s fully open by the time I reach it. I drive right in, parking in number thirty-six, Kalista’s designated spot. Unfastening my seatbelt, I go to open my door, but decide against it. I glare at her instead.
The tension in the air between us is so thick it’s almost suffocating. But I’m not going to be the one to fix this. Fuck no. She’s the one who pulled the icy shit. Maybe I was out of line vocalising the mental image that materialised in my head when she strode up to this Mustang. I can admit that, but she didn’t have to react like she did.
I know I took her on as my client for less than professional reasons, one of those being I thought she might like to see me again. I definitely wanted to see her. Running my hand over my jaw, I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She’s still sitting stock still, refusing to look my way.
We’ve had young clients before who needed our services for similar reasons to Kalista—their parents were shady fuckers who got their kids mixed up in their shifty shit. I always found that they cooperated better if their guard was someone they could form some kind of a friendship with. Apparently, Kalista is the exception to this. Even though this isn’t the main reason I put myself on her detail, but still.
On a frustrated sigh, I turn my torso so I’m facing her. Clearly, I’m going to be the one to break the silence. “Look, I didn’t expect to walk into your life and pick up where we left off or anything. But I thought we hit it off pretty good at the wedding, and I thought we could be friends.”
She licks her bottom lip, but she continues staring forward.
“Kalista, this doesn’t have to be awkward. I’m sorry about what I said back at your father’s office. You’re right, it wasn’t professional, and I shouldn’t have voiced my thoughts.” I reach for her, laying my hand on her thigh over tailored black pants. She startles, but I go on. “Can we start over?”
I wait for her to say something, anything, and finally, after a full two minutes of uncomfortable silence, she says, “I have a luncheon to attend today.” She glances at her watch. “And I need to be there in twenty minutes.”
“So, this is how it’s going to be? You’re just going to pretend you don’t know me and we haven’t had crazy-good sex several times in the space of a few hours?” I say, knowing this will get a reaction out of her.
As predicted, she turns on me, silver flames blazing in her blue eyes. “Didn’t you just apologise for being unprofessional? Obviously, your word means as much as our time together did—absolutely nothing.”
I rear back in my seat, her words a slap in the face. “Settle down, princess. I was just trying to get you to speak to me, open the dialogue.”
Her nostrils flare, and she shoves my hand off of her leg. “Don’t call me that. Around here I am the queen of high society, and you’d do well to remember that in the coming weeks. I have strict rules, and if you’re going to be following me around like a little lap dog then you best learn them.”
My jaw drops. The fuck did she just call me? “Excuse me?”
She narrows her eyes but ignores my question. “First, you don’t touch me. Second, you don’t talk to me unless it’s about my safety, as I pointed out earlier. Third, you address me as Miss Astor, not princess, not Kalista, not Lissa. Fourth, stay out of my way. I have a busy schedule and I’m never late, ever. And fifth, that night between us never happened.”
I wait for her to finish her rant before asking, “Is that all, Miss Astor?” My tone is full of sarcasm. “Because if you’re done I have some rules of my own,” I tell her and lift my arm to grip the back of her headrest. “First, if I have to touch you, I will. In fact, the more I touch you the better, since it will send a message to whoever’s fucking with you.”
She tries to cut me off but I glare at her, showing her how much she’s pissing me the fuck off. When she shuts her mouth, I continue, “Second and third, I’m going to talk to you when I want, and I’ll call you whatever the hell I please. Fourth, I won’t be in your way because I’ll be by your side. And fifth, that night most definitely did happen. And I’m not going to let you forget it.”
Before she can argue I throw the car in reverse and pull out of the space I’d only pulled into ten minutes earlier. “Now, where is this luncheon?”
For the love of god, if one more woman in her sixties accidently touches my arse I’m going to lose it. Talk about cougars. I feel like a piece of meat standing here keeping an eye on Kalista while she socialises with the upper crust of the city. Besides the waiters, I’m the only man here.
Kalista is in her element, though. She really is the queen bee around here. Every woman in the room has made a point of coming by to see her.
I watch her from my position leaning against the wall by the only point of entry to the room, taking note of all the comings and goings. So far, nobody stands out, until a waiter hands Kalista an envelope.
Outstretching my arm as he strides past me, I wrap my hand around his bicep, stopping him. “What was that?” I ask, gesturing to Kalista with my chin.
His eyes flit around the room. “Ah, what do you mean?”
His response has me squeezing his bicep harder. “The envelope,” I annunciate the word with precision, keeping Kalista in my sights from the corner of my eye, making sure she hasn’t opened it yet. She’s glancing over her shoulder, looking for me. When her searing gaze lands on mine, I nod and hold up one finger for her to wait for me, then turn back to the waiter.
He swallows. “Another patron asked me to deliver it to Miss Astor.”
“Why couldn’t they give it to her themselves?” I push.
Sweat beads gathers on his forehead and top lip. “Umm I’m not sure. I didn’t ask,” he says, using his free hand to loosen his collar.
Sliding my phone out, I snap a picture of his face with the camera and send it to Zak, with the text “background check.”
The waiter pales. “Hey, man, what are you doing? You can’t just take my picture.”
Raising a brow as I slide my phone back into my pocket, “I can and just did. Better hope you’re not lying to me, kid.”
Releasing his arm, I walk over to Kalista without giving him a second look.
Leaning over Kalista’s shoulder, I grip the table by her side and the back of her chair, her intoxicating scent filling my nostrils as I near her neck. I have to close my eyes, the smell sending me back to that night. A strained groan rumbles from my chest before I can stop it. Shit.
Kalista turns her face into mine, eyeing me. “Did you just—”
“Don’t, don’t say it,” I mutter. Reaching out, I pluck the envelope from her hand. Tapping the top corner by the partial seal on the table making sure there’s no powdered substances inside, I hand it back to her. “You can open it now.”
She fiddles with it for a second, her hands shaking. Her manicured nail slides under the lip and across. She pulls out a simple piece of white paper. It’s good quality, thick and sturdy. I read the words to myself then curse.
“Fucker.” I glance around the room, looking for the waiter again. Unsurprisingly, he’s gone.
“We should go,” I whisper into her ear, loving the way tiny bumps spreads over her throat as I speak.
“Fine,” she breathes, and it’s clear she’s not happy about it. I’m not sure if it’s having to leave that’s put her in her mood or the note. But I don’t really care.
Straitening, I take the note and return to my position by the wall while she makes her excuses to the other ladies at her table. Reading over the note again, the words stick inside my head.
Back at Kalista’s apartment, I let out a low whistle as she gives me a brief tour. “Nice digs, Lissa.”
She stops abruptly and I walk right into her. Lissa’s smaller frame lurches forward from the impact and I wrap my arms around her waist to stop her from face planting into the wall. I pull her back into my body, she feels so good. Her soft curves mould to my hard planes and again, her scent brings back vivid memories of the last time I held her like this.
We didn’t have any clothes between us that time though, and I wish we didn’t now. For a brief second, her head rests back on my shoulder, then, as if remembering who I am or maybe who she is, she straightens and slaps my hands, pressed flat on her stomach, away.
“Don’t touch me,” she scolds, taking two steps away from me.
I hold my hands out in front of me. “Fine. Next time I’ll let you fall.”
She narrows her sky blues on me and I see a flicker of the girl I met at the wedding. I grin back. “There she is,” I say, more to myself than to her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I don’t like the space between us after just having had her so close. I step forward, stopping a couple of inches from her. “It means I like that spark in your eyes, the one you had at the wedding, but it’s nowhere to be seen when you’re with your high-society minions.”
She raises her chin until she’s looking up into my eyes. “High-society minions?” she asks.
Shrugging, I tell her exactly what I think of the women she was with at the luncheon. “Yeah, did you think I didn’t notice the way they all made sure they’d seen you? The way the other women watch you as if waiting for a command? It’s pathetic.”
The hint of a smile attempts to lift the corner of her mouth but she shuts it down. “A little rude, don’t you think? That’s quite a harsh assessment of something you know nothing about.”
Rubbing my scruff, I consider her words. “Nah, I stand behind my evaluation.”
Kalista jabs one of her pointy fingers into my chest. “You don’t know anything about me or the women who attend these functions. So, keep your misguided judgements to yourself.”
I snatch up her hand before she can withdraw it from my chest, wrapping my fingers around her wrist, holding it against my beating heart. “Feel that?”
She releases a surprised gasp, parting her pretty lips a little, then runs her tongue along the inside of her top lip. My eyes hone in on the action, and my heart rate increases. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it. That you didn’t feel it that night at the wedding. I can’t forget, and the look in your eyes tells me that you can’t either.” I pause, furrowing my brow as I find the right words, “I’m trying to tell you that you don’t need to freeze me out. I think I get why you do it with everyone else, but you don’t need to do it with me.”
She reaches for her earlobe with her free hand, tugging on it and frowning as she processes what I’ve just said. Her fingertips flex against my chest. “I’ll try, but …” She takes a deep breath through her nose, and closes her eyes. “But I can’t make any promises. I am the way I am for a reason.”
A big part of me wants to lift her by her thighs, press her into the wall, and kiss her senseless, but she isn’t ready for that. Instead, I settle for raising the hand she has on my chest to my lips, kissing each fingertip and looking into her eyes as I do it. “I’ll take it.”