Chapter 47

My eyes widened, and I stifled a gasp. Why was he dragging the senator? And why on Earth wasn't he wearing a shirt?

Had he lost his freaking mind?

Unsure what else to do, I dashed out of my hotel room and scurried after them.

As for the senator, he was screaming like a girl. I could almost relate, because I felt like screaming, too.

All along, I'd known Zane was trouble. He was a prick. A liar. A total reprobate. And now, he was – I could hardly think of the word – a senator assaulter?

On both sides of the long, carpeted corridor, doors swung open as hotel guests leaned their heads out to gawk at the commotion. All things considered, I couldn't exactly blame them.

The senator was still screaming. "Help! Somebody!"

As I moved, I glanced down. I was still holding my little notebook, the one I used for my daily to-do list. If only I had time, I'd jot down a new top priority.

Kill Zane Bennington.

I called out after him, "What are you doing?"

The senator stopped screaming only long enough to holler back, "I'm being assaulted! What the fuck does it look like?"

Dumb-ass. I wasn't talking to him. I was talking to my future murder victim.

Yes. That would be Zane.

As they passed a random door on their left, a couple of teenage girls swiveled their heads to stare at the traveling spectacle.

They were still staring when I scrambled past their doorway. As I plowed forward, one of them called out after me, "Hey, was that–?"

"No comment!" I yelled, hoping to keep the publicity to a minimum.

Probably, too late for that.

Already, the other girl was finishing the question. "Zane Bennington? Oh, my God. I think it was."

Damn it.

Hustling away from the girls, I called out to Zane's receding back. "Where are you taking him?"

Zane didn't even pause. He just kept plowing forward, ignoring me and the guy twisting and screaming behind him.

By now, the friction had wreaked havoc with not only the senator's suit jacket, but with his dress-shirt too. The shirt came completely untucked and rode up his torso, revealing a stomach that was soft-looking and yes, pretty darn hairy.

The senator gave a particularly girlish scream. "Call security!"

I yelled, "Damn it, Zane! Will you please stop?"

After the events of the last couple of days, I wasn't even sure I'd be keeping my job, but I still couldn't afford to take any chances. If word of this got out, I'd be the one doing damage-control.

How on Earth would I explain this?

Maybe I should've felt bad for the senator. But I couldn’t, not after what happened last night.

After ditching him at his doorway, I'd returned to the bar in desperate need of that mimosa – which of course, someone had snatched up while I'd been away.

I'd ordered a new one, and had almost finished it when the senator reappeared in the lobby looking surprisingly sober. He hadn't seen me sitting in the shadows of the bar, but I'd seen him, all right.

This led me to a pretty sad conclusion. The pig was, once again, on the prowl.

And now, even as I scurried down the hall, I shuddered with revulsion at the memory of his hot breath in my ear and meaty hands on my ass. And I so didn't want to think about his thumbs.

As I watched, Zane rounded the corner, still dragging the senator behind him. The way it looked, they were heading for the elevators – my steps faltered – or, oh crap, the stairwell.

I called out, "Don't you dare take the stairs!"

Whether Zane heard me or not, I had no idea.

A split second later, the screaming stopped, and I almost feared the worst. I rounded the corner just in time to see Zane yank the senator up by his jacket and shove him hard against the wall between the two nearest elevators.

Now that I'd actually caught up to them, I wasn't quite sure what to do. Silently, I edged forward, hoping to catch Zane's elbow and maybe ease him away from the senator.

And then, I reasoned, could murder Zane myself privately.

I was still moving forward when Zane finally spoke. In a voice filled with menace, he leaned closer to the senator and said, "If you ever touch her again, I'll break off those fucking fingers." His grip visibly tightened. "And then, I'll shove them down your fucking throat."

I froze. What?

Again, Zane shoved the senator against the wall. "Are we clear?"

I stood in stunned confusion. Who on Earth was he talking about?

He couldn’t mean me.

No. Definitely not.

Probably, the senator had gotten grabby with someone else, like maybe an important guest or heaven forbid, Zane's latest squeeze, whoever she was this time.

My jaw clenched.

Tiffany?

Or someone else?

No. It couldn’t be Tiffany, because the way it sounded, she'd been tucked away in Zane's penthouse doing who-knows-what with you-know-who.

Trying to make sense of it all, I studied Zane's face in profile. For as long as I'd known him, he'd been the epitome of control.

And yet, he didn't look in control now.

When the senator offered no coherent response, Zane gave him another shove and repeated his question, more slowly this time. "Are. We. Clear?"

The senator swallowed. "I, uh, what?"

More confused than ever, I stepped toward them.

Instantly, the senator's gaze snapped in my direction. He called out, "Jane! Go on! Tell him!"

My steps faltered, and I heard myself ask, "Tell him what?"

The senator gave me a pleading look. "Tell him that you liked it. You know, that it was voluntary."

My jaw dropped. Huh?

I gave a confused shake of my head. I didn't like it. But that wasn't the thing that had me reeling.

It was the implication of what he'd just said.

My gaze shifted from the senator to the guy holding him against the wall. As if feeling my gaze, Zane slowly turned to look. And when he did, I saw something new in his eyes – a possessive spark that caught me totally off guard.

My breath caught. Oh, my God. This was about me.

But why?

I mean, we were barely on speaking terms. And the way it sounded, he'd spent last night with another girl, the senator's fiancée, in fact.

In that instant, I almost felt bad for the senator – right up until he blurted out, "And seriously, she was coming onto me!"

I sputtered, "What?"

"Yeah," he said, turning desperate eyes on Zane. "It was all I could do to shove her away."

I glanced down at my notebook.

Item Number Two: Kill the senator.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, something horrible happened.

I snickered.

Both guys turned to look.

My hand flew to my lips, and I looked from the senator to Zane. Nothing about this was funny. So why had I laughed? A nervous reflex? It had to be.

But for whatever reason, it seemed to break the spell. Already, the senator was reaching back to slap at the nearby elevator buttons, even as Zane continued to hold him tight against the wall.

I looked to the buttons. Both were now lit – the one with up arrow and the one with the down arrow. Probably, this was a good thing, because it doubled his odds of a quick escape.

As it turned out, luck was on the senator's side, because within mere seconds, the nearest elevator arrived with a ding.

Going down.

And not by way of the stairs.

Thank God.

Zane let go, and the senator practically dove into the crowded elevator. To no one in particular, he yelled, "For God's sake, hit the button!"

Someone did, and the doors slid shut, leaving just me and Zane – and, of course, a dozen other people who'd scrambled out of their rooms to witness the spectacle.

I looked around and tried to think of something useful to say. When nothing came to mind, I gave the crowd a nervous smile. "No comment?"

Of course, it was a stupid thing to say, because technically, no one had asked me anything.

They were all too busy staring at Zane.

From the looks on their faces, the females in particular, they liked what they saw. I pulled my gaze from the crowd and turned to see what I was missing.

And then, I felt myself swallow.

He stood a few feet away, facing me in all his shirtless glory. His muscles were deliciously defined, and his hair was tousled like he'd just had the sweetest sex in the world.

And then, there were his eyes, brooding and dangerous in a way that I'd never seen them. The cautious part of me wanted to back away, but I was way too mesmerized to go anywhere.

I simply couldn't. The sight of him was far too compelling.

His shoulders and pecs were perfectly cut and nearly bulging, whether from lingering tension or from the physical effort of dragging the senator down the hall.

Below those muscles, his abs formed a perfect six-pack, tight and lean against the waistband of his expensive slacks.

For some reason, I recalled the only other time he'd given me such a glimpse. On that day, I'd been standing on his doorstep, looking to chew him out for getting me fired. At the time, he'd been wearing a swimsuit and hoodie, unzipped far enough to hint at what was underneath.

Even then, I'd found it difficult to look away, in spite of the fact that I loathed him with all my being.

This posed a terrifying question. Did I still loathe him?

I knew I should, especially after what I'd just learned.

But it wasn't loathing that was making me stare.

It was something else. But what?

Lust?

No. Or at least, that wasn't all of it.

Even in my distracted state, I knew one thing for certain. It wasn't his glorious body, as stare-worthy as it was, that made my knees wobble and my breath hitch. It was the look in his eyes, dark and possessive, like a silent promise to destroy anything that tried to claim what was his.

Funny, I'd always known that about him. He never gave up anything, and he had a ruthless streak a mile long. But to have any of this apply to me, well, it was a concept that I couldn’t seem to wrap my brain around.

Even as my thoughts swirled, I still couldn't look away.

But apparently, he could.

He pulled his gaze from mine and looked toward the crowd. His jaw tightened, and his gaze grew ice-cold. Was he embarrassed? He didn't look embarrassed.

But he did look pissed off.

With a muttered curse, he moved away from the elevator and strode straight toward me like a man on a mission. In those few short seconds, time stood still, and I held my breath, dying to see what he'd do next.

Take me into his arms?

Kiss me like there was no tomorrow?

Whisk me away to someplace private?

I waited.

For nothing.

Because what did Zane do? He kept on going, striding past me like I didn't even exist.

Wordlessly, I watched as he then moved past the crowd and disappeared around the nearby corner, heading back to wherever he'd come from.

I stared after him. What on Earth had just happened?

I had no idea.

But I intended to find out.