Hostile Takeover (31 page)

He met her gaze with implacable eyes. His words remained cool, reasonable. Which was why she knew it was all bullshit. But he wasn’t showing any cracks in the façade, anything she could use to break past that wall he’d built against her this morning. It was like he’d reinforced it with fucking concrete while she slept.

“You came to me for guidance, and I’ve given you that. If you’ve done your research, you know the protocol. When a Master or sub says it’s over, it’s over. You respect the boundaries and the consent.”

He moved then, came to sit at the table with her. He didn’t smile, didn’t stab her in the chest with a gesture that patently dismissive of her feelings, but he did put his hand over hers. Now she saw his expression soften, become kind. “You were incredible last night. I couldn’t have asked for a better submissive, so know that much. You just need to move on and look elsewhere. I have no problem helping you with that. You’ve told me you’re not a child. I believe you, so I expect you to respect my decision like a reasonable adult. We’ve always been friends. I’m still your friend.”

The Doms he had in mind were probably about her age, competent enough, but no one who would be a challenge, who could even touch what he’d been able to do to her. He might not acknowledge it consciously, but it would be deliberate. He wouldn’t want anything that could compete with him. He refused to accept her, but he’d control the replacement candidate pool. If she could have bristled under his touch like a porcupine, she would have.

Rising, he picked up her plate. It made him lean over her, and the scent and strength of him, so close, was almost overwhelming. While he put her breakfast in a container as promised, she sat there numbly. When he disappeared briefly up the stairs, she stared out the window at a fence, a bird bath. An oak tree with a decorative lizard sculpture attached to it. He reappeared with her overnight bag. “I have a flight out this morning for an afternoon meeting in Houston. I’ll touch base with you when I get back and we’ll talk out the details. I told Research you’re doing some freelance for Pickard, so they know you might need to be on a part-time schedule with them on some days.”

How considerate of him. He had an appointment in Houston today; tonight, instead of going to Progeny with him, she’d have an appointment with a Dumpster, her latest strategy to uncover dirt about the company being sued by Pickard’s client for insurance fraud. It was a fitting change of schedule, seeing as she was being kicked out like garbage.

Ben had his hand on her elbow to bring her to her feet. With smooth efficiency, he moved them toward the door. Probably a scenario he’d enacted with countless women before her. Except she wasn’t them. He probably strolled to the door with them, rather than ushering them out like his ass was on fire. They’d been casual lays, after all, everyone reasonable adults about it. Unlike her.

“Tell Max if you need to stop anywhere before you get to the office. Take more Advil through the day if you need it, and another long soak in Cass and Lucas’ hot tub tonight. I’ve put some more of that balm in your overnight bag for the sore areas.” He brushed his lips over her cheek—
her cheek
—and opened the door, propelling her into the alcove. “Okay?”

“Mr. Calm and Reasonable?” She pivoted on her bare foot, looked up at him. “My shoes are still inside. If you throw them out onto the sidewalk, I might chase after them like a dog after a ball, giving you a chance to slam the door. But I’d rather not get them scratched.”

He started, glancing down at her feet, her painted toes. As he stared at them a long moment, she could see him sorting through things. He didn’t miss details. Not unless something had unsettled him. A casual, reasonable bed partner didn’t unsettle him. She’d have let her lips curl in a satisfied smile if it wouldn’t feel like a knife slash across her tight face.

He lifted his gaze to her. He at least had the decency to give her a wry quirk of his lips. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being an ass. This isn’t personal, Marcie.”

“This is so incredibly personal you can’t get rid of me fast enough. If I was one of your easy ass fucks, you’d be ordering me to go down on you underneath the breakfast table while you ate your fluffy, pretty omelet.” Ignoring the fact that as her voice rose, the squeaks and breaks of her abraded vocal cords got worse, she stepped back into him, locked her hands in his shirt front. “You made love to me last night. You let me inside you.”

“It was a mistake. I care about you, Marcie.” When he put his hands over her wrists, his face was locked down again, that expression she was beginning to hate. “We can’t do this. There’s no way any of it works, and you need to stop trying. I’ll be cruel if you force me to it. That’s a promise. Take what you’ve been given and leave it at that.”

“What did I give
you
, Ben?” She stared up at him. He was looking at her, but not really at her. It was as if he’d blanked out her features and was staring at something faceless. She dug her nails into flesh. She’d marked him as well. He had claw marks in his back. “You figure if you give a woman Nirvana, she’ll be okay with the fact you’ve taken nothing for yourself? It doesn’t play with me. You thought I was out of it in the tub last night. I wasn’t. You were intimate with me. Caring. And don’t you dare deny what happened after, on the balcony.”

His eyes went ice cold so abruptly it startled her. Putting his hands on her wrists, he detached her hands from his shirtfront. “Wait here.”

He turned, shutting the door as if he didn’t believe she’d obey, and she probably wouldn’t have, except the frigid look in his eyes held her frozen, uncertain. When he came back, opened the door, he held her shoes. He locked her stiff fingers around them.

“I won’t talk about this further. Not right now. You’re not in the right frame of mind for it, and neither am I. Go to the limo.” When she continued to stand there, staring at him, he physically moved her off the stoop onto the walkway, closed the grate to the alcove, shutting her out. He stared at her through the bars. She wondered if he realized it looked like he was shutting himself into a prison cell.

“I am your friend, Marcie, but from this moment on, only your friend. We are to each other what we were a few days ago.”

She couldn’t help it. She gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, that much is true. The funny thing is, I’m the only one who accepts what that is.”

“I’ll talk to you when I get back from Houston.” With that, he stepped back into the house and closed the door. Fucking closed the door in her face.

He wouldn’t talk to her when he got back. He’d do everything he could to avoid talking to her. When they next saw one another, it would be at a Thanksgiving or Christmas gathering with the others, where he could treat her with smooth charm, like any other woman he held at arm’s length.

What swept through her was so strong, it made her lightheaded. She swayed, closed her eyes. Which was a mistake, since images from last night once again went through her head. The power of them, the emotion, the all-consuming…everything. He’d say he’d given her what she wanted, and she only had herself to blame for putting her heart out there, when he’d told her what to expect. What total horseshit. What happened last night wasn’t a one-sided experience.

She was young, but she wasn’t stupid. She also wasn’t some melodramatic teenager, imagining things. Even when she was in her teens, she’d looked at him and seen things others hadn’t. She remembered it now, him standing in the shadows of Jon and Rachel’s wedding, watching their first dance. For just a brief moment, there’d been a look in his eyes…

It recalled the many painful times she’d been reminded she had no parents to come to awards ceremonies, see her off to prom, ask her how her day had gone, things every other kid with functioning parents took for granted. He trusted very few, and those few were now married, somehow pulled away from him, even though it looked as if they were still standing right there, where they’d always been. Everybody dealt with change, but it broke her heart, seeing in that brief glimpse that this was a path he didn’t know how to follow, shutting him out of their happiness.

Unable to see that desolation and not try to help, she’d gone to him. Yeah, she was a shy awkward teen, but she thought of him as her friend. Sidling up to him in those shadows, she’d elbowed him to catch his attention. His expression was back to being what was expected, congratulatory and amused, but that didn’t matter. She pulled his head down to whisper in his ear, steeling herself to keep her cool, even though his whiskey-sweet breath was on her neck.

“Let’s go put an ‘I support offshore drilling’ sticker on the back of Jon’s hydroelectric getaway car.”

“He’d retaliate. Put a Disney Gay Pride Day sticker on the back of the McLaren.”

She smirked up at him, glad to see the sad look replaced by his smile. “Then let me have some of your drink.”

“When you’re twenty-one.”

“Does everything fun happen then?”

“Only to boys. For girls, it’s age thirty. Your lives totally suck until then.”

She’d punched him in the side and he’d hugged her, pressing a brotherly kiss on the top of her head. Later she’d talked him into dancing with her, even doing the YMCA dance. She had incriminating photos to prove it.

She’d made it her private mission to keep an eye on him during that event. She knew what it was to hunger for what one might never have. It gnawed, it ached. At a key moment, that hunger could break loose and result in very, very bad behavior.

Coming back to the present, she studied her surroundings with narrowed eyes. Finding what she sought, she nodded to herself and pivoted toward the street, for the first time registering the limo and the man leaning against it, patiently waiting for her.

She wondered if Max had been standing there when she and Ben had her exchange at the door. Even if he’d still been sitting in the driver’s seat, he would have known from their body language things weren’t peachy. Max didn’t miss much.

The K&A women joked about how much he looked like Peter, since he was Dana’s regular driver. Blond, gray-eyed, with lots of muscles that had been used in his previous work as a Navy Seal. Why he’d spent the past few years working for the company motor pool was a mystery, but they’d speculated about it. As well as a lot more inappropriate things about the handsome, quiet male.

He wore a pair of belted tan khakis and white shirt open at the throat, a jacket over that. She had no doubt he had a weapon underneath it. Always prepared, after all. He nodded to her as she approached. “Miss Marcie. Good to see you.”

“You too.” It was a reflex answer as she handed him her bag and her shoes. The large fingers closing around the dainty straps would have amused her under normal circumstances, but right now, she had a different mission. Her hands now free, she turned around, headed back toward the front door.

She stepped off the path, smoothing her skirt modestly up under her thighs as she squatted. Selecting a handful of the smooth rocks that formed the mulch around the well-tended shrubs, she found they had a good weight and size in a woman’s palm. Aware of Max’s regard, she nevertheless ignored it.

Moving back onto the walkway, she backed up a sufficient number of steps, gauging her distance and studying her potential targets. Ben would have gone back upstairs. There was an office there, right off the bedroom. He preferred work when anything was aggravating him, and he’d made it clear she was an aggravation. His desk was close to that window. Perfect.

“
Ben.
” Her throat had resigned itself to being abused, so it was settling into a kind of sexy, intense Lauren Bacall sound. She’d been able to hear the muted rush of passing cars in the bedroom, so the window insulation wasn’t soundproof. She was loud enough to be heard. “Here’s how reasonable adults react when they have
feelings
.”

The first rock hit the upper office window dead on, breaking through with a satisfying shattering noise. The lower panel went next. She hoped she’d winged him, bounced the damn thing off his stubborn head. It would probably break the rock. Then she adjusted her stance and aimed for the bedroom window, where that amazing moment of connection had happened. When he’d lain upon her, looking down at her, her legs coiled over his hips, his hands on her face. She’d leave an explosion of broken glass so he’d have to strip the bed, get the linens washed or get splinters in his ass.

She hesitated when she lowered her gaze to the first level. Yeah, she could send a rock zinging through the wrought iron bars and take out door panels, but they were beautiful old stained glass. Some things were sacred. She targeted the living area windows instead, and used the last couple rocks for the other side, his dining room. Though she was standing about twenty feet away, she didn’t miss a single target. Before Jeremy had changed from her brother into an addict, he’d shown her how to throw a rock pretty damn well.

She was breathing a little erratically, but any desire to cry was gone. She was flat- out pissed, her blood on full boil. If he walked out that door, she wasn’t entirely sure another rock wouldn’t be aimed at his forehead as though a bull’s-eye was drawn there. But of course he wasn’t coming out. Stubborn bastard. No, worse than stubborn.

“If you’re too chickenshit to take me to a club,” she snarled up at the now fully aerated window treatments, “I will go by myself.
Fuck you
. How’s that for reasonable?”

Yeah, she knew better than to bluff Ben O’Callahan, but this time, she wasn’t sure it was a bluff. She was so mad, she was going to throw it out there.
To thine own self be true.