Beauty and the Beast (17 page)

“Earlier you said you were worried I wouldn’t be attracted to you.” He placed her hand on his hardness. She jerked her hand away, and he laughed. “I’m showing you I’m attracted.”

“You’re a pig.”

“We’ve already established that, darling. This afternoon I wanted to make you feel more comfortable, so I kept my eyes closed when we made love.” He gently pinched her chin. “Take off the veil, and let me see my beauty.”

Sensual tingles from where he’d kissed the scars on her chest remained, yet images of her father after he’d seen her facial bandages removed prevented her from taking this last step. “I can’t,” she whispered and turned away. “I just can’t.”

“Then we’ll wait until you’re ready.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “You actually aren’t going to force your will on me?” she teased yet meant every word. “Who are you, and don’t bring back that bossy ogre.”

“Ha, ha, very funny, water ninja.” His wicked smile warmed her in ways she didn’t wish to be warmed. His cell phone sounded. “Hold on a second.” He unfastened the phone from his waist clip, then looked at the caller ID. “Hello, Ken.”

The way he spoke in hushed tones didn’t worry Nefertiti half as much as the way he watched her. “What’s wrong, Bruce?”

He stared at her for what seemed an eternity. Then he covered the mouthpiece and said, “I’ll tell you in a bit. Let’s go inside.” He led her in through the kitchen entry as he finished his conversation, and then called his security. “Silas, it’s Bruce. Triple security, and I want patrols walking the grounds from the front gate to the creek twenty-four seven.”

Oh my God.
Nefertiti gripped his arm.
Did Butch escape? Is he after me?

He disconnected, then slipped his hand under the veil and caressed her cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

Fear had sent her heartbeat racing, but his touch made her feel secure. They rushed up the back stairs to his suite. She asked what was wrong again, but he wouldn’t answer. He didn’t release her hand until they were in his room.

“Take a seat.” Hands working over his face and close-shaven head, he stalked from the window to the door and back again.

“Please, Bruce,” Nefertiti said from the armchair beside the bed, “what’s wrong?”

He knelt before her and took her hands into his. “I love you.”

The three words she’d been waiting to hear from Bruce since she was a preteen should have been the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. Should have lifted her heart to new levels, yet sent it sinking. “I love you, too.”

She already had more than enough issues to deal with. The time had come to step out of fairy tale land and into the world of reality. She drew in a deep breath. The multitude of possibilities that could make Bruce act so strangely brought tears to her eyes. “I can take it.” She straightened her back and squared her shoulders. “Give it to me.”

He kissed her knuckles. “Tomorrow we’re getting married, then going on a honeymoon to wherever you want. I haven’t been to Africa in years. We can tour the continent, come back for the trial, then finish the tour where we left off.”

 
The irony of the situation was just too much for her to ignore. Her “Prince Charming” was down on bended knee proposing, but she couldn’t rejoice. Instead of being on cloud nine with birds singing, people cheering, thousands of balloons being released, and music playing as she’d dreamt thousands of times, she felt a sudden chill in the already dark room. And the wedding… Sadness engulfed her. A wedding without her father giving her away hurt too much to consider.

She pulled her hands from the comfort of his and placed them on either side of his worried face. “What’s going on, Bruce?” she asked calmly.

He rested his back against the bed, then pulled her into his lap and embraced her. “Mr. Wilson was murdered,” she tensed in his arms, but allowed him to continue, “in an apparent mugging gone wrong.”

“Oh my God!” Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. Trembling, she could barely speak through the sorrow caught in her throat. “He saved my life.”

He pressed her head to his shoulder and rocked slowly. “I know, baby. I’ll make sure his family is taken care of. And I’ll find his murderer.”

“No! I’ve already lost too much.” She held him tight. “Let the cops do their job.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Ken, my investigator, doesn’t believe this was a mugging, and neither do I. I’ll protect you with everything I have.”

“What are you now, my overprotective brother?”

“I have absolutely no brotherly feelings for you.” A rakish grin accompanied his answer as his hand slipped to the nape of her neck.

She was usually the one to change the subject, so she knew this tactic. “Stay out of this.”

“I can’t.”

Determination had set in Bruce, and she knew she couldn’t change his mind. The only way she could see to keep him safe—safer—would be to help him figure out the mystery so she could keep an eye on him. “If you’re in, I’m in. Now, tell me everything, starting with Jay.”

“No, Nefertiti.”

“We can argue about this until politicians can actually be trusted, but I’m just as stubborn as you. Maybe even more so.” She placed her hand on her chest. “He’s after me. I want to fight back.”

Handsome, strong, and protective, her knight in shining armor stared at her a long while. He’d put on his business face, so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Please, Bruce.”

He repeated the report Ken had given him about Butch, Jay, and Marco. “I already have Ken searching for Jay. I’m willing to bet this Jay had something to do with Mr. Wilson’s murder. And I’m getting you out of town until the trial.”

“I’m not running. I’m sick of hiding.” Anger and frustration rose quickly in her. She wanted to strike out—to go to the jail and drag Butch out by his hair and drop him off the top floor of the Willis Tower, then find this Jay and bury him alive.

“Listen up, water ninja.” He sat on the bed. “I’m glad your fight is back, but don’t be reckless. These are some sick assed bastards we’re dealing with.”

Arms folded over her chest, she counted to ten, but was still madder than hell. She counted to fifty with the same result. She began counting to a hundred.

“Focus the anger, Nefertiti.”

Tears poured from her eyes. “I’m too angry to focus. I can’t even remember what comes after sixty-three. How could anyone harm that kind old man? What’s wrong with people?” Emotionally exhausted, she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Who all knew about the paintings in your apartment?”

“Anyone who ever visited,” she mumbled. “Humph, I don’t even know where my things are. I haven’t thought about them since the attack.”

“When you were in the hospital, I had your things brought here. They’re in the east wing.”

“You’re an all right guy.”

“Oh really? Then will you marry me?”

“Not tomorrow.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

 
“Sounds like a yes.” The worry in his voice he’d tried to cover with cheer didn’t fool Nefertiti. “We’ll marry Labor Day. That should give you enough time to plan. I’ll give you Janis.”

“No, Bruce. I don’t know why you think marriage is the only way to keep me safe, but… but… This whole thing is crazy.” She moved away from his protective embrace.

“Nefertiti.” He reached for her, but she continued toward the door.

“I won’t be any part of a pity screw, pity date, or pity marriage.” She walked out.

After Nefertiti left, Bruce replayed the day’s events in his mind. Everything he wanted was within his grasp, yet kept slipping away.

“Damn!” Bruce slammed his fists on the bed as he rose. “What the hell was I thinking?” With emotions too wild to get a handle on, he ripped the spread off the bed and took his frustration out on it.

The usually comforting dim lighting did nothing to quell his building rage. Edges of the depressing blues normally accompanying him were quickly turning into fury. “No!” He couldn’t allow the change. He fought for control, but the anger he’d suppressed since his beauty had been attacked also fought for freedom. Pulse beating loudly in his ears, his heart sped and his breathing became irregular as he heaved the mattress off the bed.

 
“Focus.” No matter how hard he tried to redirect his negative energy as Victoria had taught him, a slide show of a broken Nefertiti, when she first arrived at the hospital after the attack, inundated him.

“Focus!” He tore off his shirt as his fury began to evolve into uncontrollable rage. He’d been there when Dennis ran out of her room. He’d followed the coward to the parking lot and cursed him out. “Focus!” He’d been too angry to return to her room until the next day.

Hot! He was hot. He yanked his pants off for an ice cold shower to cool his temper. The slide show switched to the day Nefertiti’s plastic surgery bandages were removed from her face. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to his presence, so he’d remained in the hallway. He’d heard his uncle Nathan gasp, and his aunts Victoria and May comforting Nefertiti, though their voices were on the verge of tears. He’d heard his uncle say he needed to be excused, then saw him rush out the room.

When he and Nefertiti were children, just about everything she said had been preceded with “Daddy said…” or “My daddy…”
Where the hell is he!
 

Mr. Wilson. He’d met with the older gentleman a few times and thanked him for defending Nefertiti. That anyone would harm this kindly old man was outrageous.

Rage. He smelled rage, tasted rage, heard rage, felt rage, saw rage—uncontrollable rage. “No!” the beast roared.

Freshly showered, Nefertiti stood before the bathroom mirror and dropped the towel to the tiled floor. The scars on her chest were still difficult to look at, but more so because of the painful memories they brought. As she traced them with the tip of her finger, a good memory came to mind. A memory that hardened her breast and had her aching in a different way.