Ella
“Are you insane? I can’t go for dinner with Tate!”
Sofie runs her teeth over her bottom lip. “You kind of have to. The table is booked. I just kinda . . . beat him to this information.”
“What!” I stare at her. What? “No. I’m not doing it. I’m not going out with him.”
I walk into the small kitchen area and turn on the coffee machine. I don’t even want coffee. I just want something to distract me.
Dinner with Tate Burke? Like a date dinner? Or even just dinner dinner?
No. No. No. No.
“Okay, in my defense, I spoke to him two hours ago and I thought he’d already asked you,” she sighs. “But, Ella, it’s just dinner. Maybe he wants to talk . . . business.”
“Oh, you know that is not true!” I raise my eyebrows and point at her. “He cannot be alone with me without invading my personal space and his tongue getting all up and personal with mine!”
Sofie pauses, then hides a giggle behind her hand. “In private. In public he might be a little more . . . reserved.”
“Really?” I grip the side of the counter and look at her. “Tate Burke? Reserved? How do those words even fit together in a sentence?”
“This is true.” She chews on her thumbnail. “Well, okay, but it’s less likely, right?”
I stare at her some more.
“Okay,” she finally gives in and drops onto the sofa. “So what are you goin’ to tell him?”
“Wait, what?” I drop the coffee beans all over the floor. “I’m not telling him anything. Technically he didn’t ask me anything.” I sniff and bend down to gather them.
She folds her arms across her chest. “What’s really the issue, Ella? I can see you holdin’ somethin’ back.”
I sigh. “I just . . . I don’t want to do a date thing. I don’t want to go to dinner and have it appear to be something it isn’t.” At her raised eyebrows, another sigh escapes me. “I don’t want dinner with him, okay? He made some very . . . clear . . . promises last night, some I’m not particularly ready for, and I think avoiding him is the best way to avoid the fulfillment of those.”
“Well it ain’t gonna take a genius to figure them out,” she drawls, and I blush. “But you’re his assistant. You can’t avoid him.”
“I can avoid him for anything other than work.”
“Really?” Sofie looks at me with utter disbelief. “Good luck with that.”
I walk into the gym, reel off the guys’ schedule, and walk back out before any of them can question me.
An hour later, I take four bottles of water into the Royal Room, dump them in Carla’s lap, and leave without a word.
Four hours after that, I poke my head around the door and tell them their reservation is in thirty minutes, and that they should get changed. Then I take the elevator to my room, shove a chair under the door handle, and, with my phone switched off in the other room, turn on the TV and grab my nachos.
See? Avoiding him is easy.
Day three of Operation Avoid Tate Unless Necessary is working. Juvenile, yes, but working.
Getting involved with Tate Burke any more than I already have is a big fat hula-dancing no-no. It’s already gone too far. He’s already pushed too much and taken too much from me. More than I was ever willing to give.
Today I can breathe a little without wondering if he’s going to come barreling around a corner to kiss me or something. Sure, he isn’t in a good mood according to Sofie’s text this morning, but he’s not bugging me, so there’s always that.
I open up my laptop and fire up the Internet. I finally connected it to the hotel Wi-Fi late last night, and now I figure I should check my email. I expect it to be full of the same panicked messages my cell phone was before I threw it in the river in Charleston.
I type the email server’s address and sign in. I hum quietly to SafetySuit playing on Spotify and skim through my unread messages. There’s over one hundred, and at first glance, at least half of them are the spammy marketing things companies send.
There are a few scattered messages from my parents, but it’s one from a college friend that catches my eye. I open Suzie’s message.
Ella,
I heard the news from Matthew’s cousin at work. Please tell me you’re okay and nothing has happened to you. I’m so worried.
XOXO, Suz
I swallow, my fingers hovering over the mouse pad. Dammit. I never wanted to worry everyone. I just wanted to be free.
I’m okay.
I hit Send and go back to my inbox. There—now she knows, which means my family will, too, and maybe they’ll stop with the apparently daily messages.
I never should have checked this email. Sofie had a new one set up for me for a reason, I guess.
I click through the little boxes to delete the emails, but one from Matthew stops me. There’s no subject line, which means I should delete it, because he never misses the subject line. He always, always writes one. And the date stamp is yesterday. And the time stamp is twenty hours ago. With no subject line.
So why do I open the email?
Twenty-four hours, Ella. That’s what you have to tell me you’re on your way back to New York and get here. I know exactly where you are, you fucking filthy slut. Shacking up with a blue-collar boy band? That’s low, even for you.
Get home so we can end this nonsense and get married. And after, I’ll break your fucking legs so you can’t run from me again. If you don’t, I’ll come to you, and then it’ll be more than your legs that I break.
I slam the laptop shut and shove it onto the floor. It bounces before falling flat, but my hands, they’re shaking. My heart is pounding so loudly it’s echoing in my ears, blocking out everything else, and my eyes burn.
He knows where I am.
He knows where I am.
He knows where I am.
I get up so quickly that I almost fall, but I regain my footing with the help of the arm of the sofa. I run to the door, open it, and leave it to slam behind me as I turn the corner to find the stairs. My eyes flick side to side as I fly down them, my arms wrapped around my body, swallowing back nauseating bile.
He will find me.
And he will hurt me.
I burst through the Royal Room’s door and the guys stop playing immediately. “Where’s Ajax?”
“I don’t know—Ella, what’s wrong?” Conner stands up. “Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. “No. I just . . . I need to speak to him.”
“Real fuckin’ convincin’,” Tate growls, standing up. “What is it?”
“Is it Sofie or Mila?” Conner asks.
“I said it’s fine!” I shout, retreating from the room. My shoulders hunch and I curl into myself, my back flattening against the wall.
“Els,” Tate demands, grabbing my arms. I hadn’t even realized he followed me into the hall.
A scream sounds, then I realize it’s me, and I’m struggling, and he’s letting me go.
And then I realize it’s Tate, not Matthew. And I’m okay.
I cover my mouth with my hands and look at him with wide, wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Tate’s eyes are on mine, confused, angry, conflicted. “Carla. Find Ajax now.”
“I’m not your damn slave.”
“Now!” he roars, never taking his gaze away from me. “Ella. Talk to me.”
I shake my head, my hands still covering my mouth, all of me trembling.
Tate rubs his hands down his face, and, when they fall away, the anger is gone from his eyes.
“Ella—” Kye starts from behind him.
Tate holds his hand up and walks toward me slowly. “Els,” he says softly. I stand deathly still as he approaches me, and he stops right in front of me.
Gently, oh so gently, he wraps his fingers around mine and pulls my hands from my mouth. My bottom lip, now free, quivers, and I swallow back a lump in my throat.
“Darlin’,” he says just as softly, cupping my face, his fingers rough. “Talk to me. Please.”
“He knows where I am.” The words are so quiet I’m not sure I said them. “He knows and he’s gonna hurt me, Tate.”
“Ajax, now!” he yells, louder and more harshly than I’ve ever heard him speak. “Never,” he says to me, dropping his forehead against mine, never letting his eyes leave mine. “He’s never fucking touchin’ you again, Ella. You got that, darlin’? I don’t care if you have to be by my side twenty-four-motherfuckin’-seven. He is not hurtin’ you!”
“He will. I can’t be and he will!”
“Never.” The growl in his voice is deep, rumbling, and his fingers tighten against me for a brief second.
I grip the front of his shirt, and he folds me into his arms, his strong, solid body holding me centered in reality instead of fear.
“I can hear your hollerin’ across the damn hotel, Tate. What’s up?”
I glance at Ajax from the corner of my tear-filled eyes.
“Ella.” He takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart, I hope you ain’t gonna say what I think you are.”
“He found me,” I whimper.
Quicker than lightning, Ajax presses something at his ear and hisses orders into it. “In there. Immediately.” He points at the Royal Room and looks right at me.
I nod against Tate’s chest and let him pull me into the room. He leads me to the sofas in the far corner and sits down with me. I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip on me and whispers, “No fuckin’ chance,” into my ear.
I don’t have the energy to fight him, to push him away. To make him leave me alone.
He makes me feel safer than anyone else ever has.
“Carla, Mila is nappin’. Go upstairs and watch her while Sofie comes down,” Ajax orders.
“I’m not a babysitter, Ajax. I’m here to supervise.”
“And this is a family matter,” he says firmly. “And when it comes down to anythin’ safety, I don’t give a shit if you’re the queen of the North fuckin’ Pole, I’m in charge. Sofie needs to be here. All the Burkes need to be here. My whole damn team needs to be here. You don’t. You can be briefed. Now get upstairs.”
The room fills with large, burly men all dressed in black, with wires running from their ears to their belts. Carla opens her mouth to argue, but inevitably turns and walks upstairs.
Not a good week for her.
Or me, mind you.
I close my eyes briefly, and Tate presses his mouth to the top of my head. He’s shaking, too. His arms, so tight around me, are trembling against me in a feeling that is both surreal and confusing. His lips pucker and he drops a silent kiss to my hair. My fingers wind tightly into his shirt, because here I feel secure, safe, protected.
Because of him.
Never mind the twenty giants lining the walls wondering why Ajax just called an emergency meeting.
Tate is my anchor to this world right now.
“Ella. Talk.” Ajax meets my eyes. “I know it’s hard, but we can’t help you unless you do, sweetheart.”
I take a deep breath. “He told me . . .”
I swallow.
“He said . . .”
Tate traces tiny circles on my back.
“He . . . God!” I push Tate away and bury my head in my hands.
Screw him. Screw Matthew Hamilton so hard. And preferably with an incredibly blunt knife where the sun doesn’t shine.
“He said he knows that I’m with you and I need to get back to New York to marry him so he can break my legs and if I don’t then he’ll find me and break more than my legs.” I get up and fist my hair, avoiding the angry, shocked gazes of three Burke brothers.
The fourth, the eldest and the strongest, comes behind me. His front flattens against my back. His arms circle my stomach. His face buries into my neck.
Sofie explodes, the doors slamming. “I’ll break his fuckin’ legs before he gets to you!”
“Whoa, firecracker,” Ajax says tightly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Leg-breakin’ is my job.”
“Is murder mine?” Tate whispers in my ear.
My lips tug up, just barely.
“That’s mine, too, Romeo,” Ajax answers. “Ella, I need this email. Carlos, I need pictures of this guy. Clear, recent, recognizable pictures. Boys, no man enters this hotel or any establishment Ella is in, without providing a clear, genuine ID. And under no circumstances is she to be left alone at any time of the day. Or night.”
“Conner’s movin’ out,” Sofie says brightly. “It’ll be like an endless slumber party!”
I glance at her, a smile teasing my lips despite the rolling of my stomach.
“No.” Tate’s voice vibrates through me. “She stays with me.”
“Tate . . .” Sofie warns.
“Your intent is fuckin’ heroic, Sof, truly, but you can’t protect her the way I can.” He buries his face in the back of my hair. “None of you can,” he adds, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.
I lean back into him, just a little more. “I can’t stay with you!” I protest. “That’s absurd.”
“It’s settled,” Ajax interrupts my argument. “Ella stays with Tate. Every time they have to part, for whatever reason, I will shadow her. No arguments.” He looks at me on that last word. “And I need that email.”
“It’s on my laptop,” I say softly. “In my room.”
“Awesome. You’re goin’ there to move your stuff anyway.” He issues several orders to his team and opens the door. “Shall we?”
Tate lets me go for a second before grabbing my hand. His fingers slip through mine and he tugs me behind him, dropping back a step when he realizes I’m not going to walk as fast as he is. Ajax holds the elevator doors open, and I glance around. Toward the elevator. Toward the stairwell doors.
Tate all but drags me into the elevator, and when Ajax shuts the door and pushes the button for our floor, Tate cups my jaw with his finger and thumb.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Don’t look around like that.”
“I—I’m scared,” I whisper, staring at his knees.
He forces my head back and my eyes to meet his. “I protect what’s mine, Els. And that’s you.”
Silently, I inhale, staring into his eyes, his fingers warming mine.
“And if you’re his,” Ajax says, his hand flattening against the side of the elevator door, “then I protect you twice as much.”
I swallow, my eyes on the floor as we reach my door. “I locked my key inside,” I whisper with a gasp.
“Got it.” Tate pulls the spare from his back pocket and slides it into the slot. The door clicks and opens, and Ajax walks in ahead of us, his hand behind him to stop us. He only lets us in once he’s checked every room and made sure the suite is empty.
“Ella, get your things,” he says to me. “And your laptop?”
“On the floor, in front of the sofa.” I wave toward it.
“Password?”
I laugh quietly. “I wasn’t allowed to lock the bathroom door when I peed. What makes you think I had a password on my laptop?”
His jaw tightens. “Email?”
“The password is ‘password,’ same as all my others.” I duck through into the bedroom and shove all my things into the suitcase.
This morning my biggest concern was avoiding Tate. Now it’s avoiding my ex, and the fact I can’t avoid Tate. At all. Ever.
After gathering my things from the bathroom, I wheel my case through to the main area, where both Ajax and Tate are sitting in front of my laptop.
Oh no.
“Done.” My voice breaks through the silence.
Tate stands, his muscles tense, and only then does he look at me. Turquoise eyes, blazing, fuming, glaring. But not at me. Softness looks at me. The anger illuminates that, though, and he stalks toward me and closes his hand over mine on the suitcase handle.
“Let’s go.”
He snatches it and opens my door. I glance back at Ajax, and he nods, closing the computer and folding it under his arm.
I follow Tate out of the room and down the hall under the security guard’s watchful eye. Tate locks the door behind us, even putting the bolt on, and wheels my case into his room. I eye the movement cautiously, because, um . . .
“Don’t you have a spare bed?”
He comes back out and looks at me, his jaw ticking angrily. He moves, quickly, across the room. Grasps me into his arms. Dips his head to mine. Seals his mouth over mine.
“I don’t need one,” he murmurs to my lips. “You’re stayin’ nowhere other than right the fuck next to me.”
“I don’t. Um.”
“No, darlin’, it ain’t a good idea, but it’s better than the fuckin’ alternative.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek, and lowers his mouth to mine.
Unable to fight him, even with fear flowing through my body, I grasp his shirt lightly and lean up into him.
Tate slides one of his hands to my hip and around to my butt, where it lingers, holding me gently. “Ella,” he whispers. “Don’t be afraid, darlin’. I don’t want you to think of a man’s touch and fear his. I want you to think of a man’s touch and crave mine.”