Dangerously Big (3 page)

“Not a priority right now.” His voice is less cold, but it’s not what I need.

What I do need?
 

Romeo. Slade.
 

Anyone but Hawthorne.

Hawthorne pulls out his phone and makes a call. “I’ve got details on the vehicle,” he says. He describes my car and gives the license plate number.
 

When he hangs up, he faces forward, his palms on the steering wheel, his fingers outstretched and spread wide. The tension in his body is like he’s trying not to strangle someone.
 

That someone, I imagine, is little Lindsay, his ersatz girlfriend who just cost him several hundred thousand dollars. I know he’s worth a few billion, so the money itself is negligible… except this is the guy who gave me a hard time about a nail salon charge to the credit card of a company that he doesn’t even own.

I also know he hates me, and if he didn’t before, he sure does now.

He doesn’t say anything.

I don’t say anything.

I can guess what he’s thinking. Two weeks earlier, I told my bosses—was
forced
to tell my bosses—that I’m in hiding from my grandfather because he used me and my sister to mount lawsuits.

It’s true, but it’s only a small part of the story. Hawthorne realized that immediately; I saw it in his eyes. He didn’t call me on it. Right about now, I bet he wishes he had.

The silence continues to stretch. I guess he’s waiting for me to say something.

“How does one acquire an enormous sum of cash on such short notice?” I ask.

“Not your concern. Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

“Thank you for helping me.”
 

He jerks the car into drive. “What happened?” he demands.

I start to tell him about Kidnapper Joe showing up at my desk, but he cuts me off.
 

“No, Lindsay. That’s not what I’m asking. Why would someone abduct you? What did he want?”

My fingers pressed to my lips, I silently apologize for the lie I’m about to tell.
 

“For you,” I whisper. “The whole thing was a scheme for ransom money. Surely you’ve been targeted before—”

Hawthorne slams his hand onto the steering wheel and the horn blares. I jump.
 

“You’re fucking lying,” he says. “And I’m so fed up with the bullshit!”

Hawthorne is the coldest, least emotive person I know, but right now he’s so angry that I can feel it pulsing off him in sharp waves.

Why wouldn’t he be furious? All that money he just paid and he doesn’t even know what’s going on.
 

He’s shaking his head. “I promised myself I wouldn’t yell,” he murmurs. “Please accept my apologies.”

“It’s fine,” I say.

“Listen closely, Lindsay. Whatever’s going on here, I’m involved now. It’s become my problem, too, and I fix my problems.” He’s still angry, but not at me. I don’t think.
 

“There’s nothing to get involved with,” I insist. “As soon as I can, I’ll reimburse you. I really am deeply sorry—”

“Don’t.”
 

We drive in silence.
 

I don’t ask where we’re going, if he’s taking me home.

Because one thing is clear. This city? It’s not home, and I was stupid to forget that.

Chapter 4

As it turns out, we’re heading back to work. It’s the second-to-last place I want to be at the moment. The last place being in my apartment, alone.

Hawthorne stays close as he escorts me through the halls. His body feels stiff against mine.

He turns on the light in Romeo’s office. I go in. Hawthorne motions for me to sit on one of the plush chairs, but I lean against the wall, my arms folded across my chest.

I feel awful. Physically, but in my soul, too.

It’s not just about the money, though I have no idea how I’m going to reimburse him. All I can hope is that the police pull over Kidnapper Joe and get it back.

“You know I’m sorry, right?” I ask. It’s pathetic and weak, but I feel so slimy, so disgusting. All I need is a little lie from him, a superficial declaration that it’s no big deal.
 

“This is your fault,” Hawthorne says, reaffirming his title as King Jerkwad. “If you’d been honest, none of this would have happened. None of it.”

He practically slices me in half with a sharp stare. He’s daring me to deny it’s my fault, to lie to him again.
 

Normally, I’d have no problem doubling down, but… I feel like I’m going to pass out.

There’s the sound of someone coming down the hallway.

Romeo walks into his office, and my eyes go to him like a drowning woman thrown a lifebuoy. I have never been so relieved to see anyone. Ever.
 

His eyes narrow as he looks from me to Hawthorne. “What’s going on?” he asks.
 

Romeo Wood Bison is sex in a suit. He’s built like a prizefighter… like the animal suggested by his surname. I’ve seen the sweat glistening on his muscles.
 

I’ve felt his powerful body moving underneath me, on top of me…

His dark eyes cut my way. It’s difficult to look away from him, even as ashamed as I feel. I’m tired of being tough, of having to battle the universe for every fleeting moment of peace. I want him to wrap me in his arms and block the outside world.

“What happened?” he asks, this time directing it at me.

I lick my lips. “There was—”

“Someone got through security,” Hawthorne interrupts. “We’ll need to examine the surveillance tapes.”

Romeo’s jaw tenses. “What happened?”

“It’s fine,” I say. “Really, not a problem.”
 

The look Romeo gives me… He knows I’m hiding something. And I have to say that it’s awful to realize that neither of them really trusts me. Slade might even feel the same way.
 

I might have made an art of being attractive to men, of glossing over problems with a smile, but I always intended my shield to be a facade, nothing more. Somehow it seems to have become the whole of my value. They keep me around because they like fucking me, not because they like me. The realization eats into my already damaged confidence like acid.

“It was a random attack. We’ll discuss it later,” Hawthorne says.
 

I almost gasp.
 

Romeo clears his throat, and his eyes are dark. He seems confused. Hell, I was there for the whole kidnapping, and
I’m
not sure what’s going on now. Hawthorne didn’t believe my story about the abduction being motivated by ransom.

He’s lying, but why?
 

To protect me?
 

That doesn’t ring true. These men share everything. They made that clear the night I met Slade and Romeo, which was also the night all three men stripped me bare and filled me, back and front, top to bottom, with hard, thrusting cock.
 

They don’t keep secrets from each other. So why is Hawthorne doing this? It’s not like he’s turned all sweet and tender and protective of me.

Shaking his head, Romeo leans over the desk and picks up the phone. He pushes a button. “Get security up here immediately,” he barks.

He’s hanging up when Slade enters. “What the hell is going on?” Slade asks.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hawthorne says. “That way I don’t have to tell the story twice.”

He
doesn’t want to tell the story twice? It’s not his story.

“I was on the phone with Lindsay, going over the final eval numbers for Food4Life, when she said a strange man was walking toward her. Then we were disconnected.”

Romeo and Slade both turn my way. Slade’s hazel eyes scrutinize me. Romeo’s face is impassive.

Hawthorne continues. “He forced her to take him to her car, and he briefly held her hostage to get out of the garage. I saw Lindsay on the street just then, and we came back up here.” He pauses. “I got a fleeting glimpse of the guy.”

My eyebrows have climbed so high that they’re probably dizzy with vertigo. For someone who professes to despise untruths in all forms and variations, Hawthorne is a smooth liar.

But I’m not convinced that Slade and Romeo believe him. They’re his best friends, and if he’s got a tell, they’ll know what it is.

The four of us stand there silently. It’s… awkward.
 

Romeo and Slade are probably wondering why Hawthorne is lying. I wonder if they think Hawthorne and I made up the entire story.

“How are you?” Romeo asks.

“I’m fine,” I say, and even though my voice cracks, I mean it. I’m alive. And I’m free. I was lucky.

Romeo’s expression softens. “Do you want to file a police report?” he asks.

I quickly shake my head.

“You say you’re fine, and I respect that. We won’t push you. I promise we’ll find out how he got in here. It won’t happen again,” Romeo says sincerely. “You’ll stay with me tonight.”

“Why did you change your shoes?” Slade asks me before I can argue with Romeo about nighttime plans.

“Broke my heel,” I say. “But that was earlier today.”

Hawthorne’s phone rings, and from the way he formally says, “Yes. No. Correct,” I’m guessing it’s the police. He goes down the hall for privacy just as security arrives in the form of three ex-military types, all buzz cuts and square jaws.

Talking to security is at the bottom of my list right now. I slip away to my workstation.

My chair is still shoved up against the neighboring desk, and I stare at it, then at my purse.

It’s upended, the contents in a messy pile.

Kidnapper Joe didn’t do that. It must have been Hawthorne.

Nothing seems to be missing, but I don’t carry around much of interest.

I shovel my things back into the bag—adding my phone and wallet. Then I sit on the chair and scoot in front of my computer.
 

My notes are exactly where I left them. I find my place on the page, then I agitate the mouse, turning off the computer’s screen saver.

Don’t exist. Don’t exist. Don’t exist
. Over and over.

I stare at the words. Is it supposed to be a statement or a goal? Vaguely, I remember writing them.

But… Why those words? Creepy. Was I talking about myself or the man I sensed coming up behind me?

I highlight the paragraphs, and my finger hovers over the
delete
key. It occurs to me that erasing
don’t exist
might mean that I truly don’t exist. Maybe something to think about the next time I’m drunk. Or not.

I tap a random button on the keyboard, and proof of my earlier mental panic disappears.
 

The soft scuffling of shoes makes me whirl in my chair, and my heart flutters like a hummingbird on crank.

Slade slows. He’s still wearing his suit, but his tie is loose, the top buttons of his shirt unfastened. Warily, he tilts his head.
 

“You ok?” he asks. His baby-fine dark hair falls in a swoop across his forehead, and his hazel eyes are concerned. Slade’s aristocratic features put me in mind of a Jane Austen hero. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’s got a coat of arms, paintings of glowering ancestors hanging in his halls.
 

I nod and smile. “You scared me, that’s all.”

“We’re going to relocate your desk,” he says. “You’ll get an office with a door. And you won’t be working late from now on.”

“Don’t bother,” I say. “It could have happened to anyone. It just happened to be me.” I feel confident rejecting the office upgrade because I know I’m not going to stick around. These men have been good to me, so much kinder than I deserve, and I’m not going to disappear the night before they need me most.

I regret not telling them everything. Assuming they would have wanted to help, their money and power could have kept me safe, could have kept me invisible. But I was scared, and I didn’t want to involve them. Now that I’ve been found? It’s too late.
 

Tomorrow, after the restructuring has been approved, I’ll leave for good.

Slade is frowning.
 

For some reason I have a recurring fantasy about running away with him, starting over, just the two of us. It’s ridiculous, of course. Slade has his own life, and from what I’ve seen, it’s a very nice one.
 

I don’t even know why I’ve fixated on Slade instead of Romeo. Maybe it’s because I know Romeo will never leave his work.

Or maybe it’s because Slade has never asked anything of me. When my lies started coming to the surface, he forgave me the fastest. I think his exact words were, “We all have our secrets.”

It makes me wonder what his secrets are.
 

“You’re staying the night at Romeo’s, but we’re all heading there first, for work,” Slade says. “You want to ride with me?”

I nod and quit out of the file. I put my notes into my bag and stand. Slade frowns, then looks down. “Tell me again what happened to your shoes.”

“Nothing to do with the intruder,” I assure him. “The world is a dangerous place for fashion.” I feel elf-sized as we walk together. Slade, like my other two bosses, is very tall. Even when we’re naked, I usually keep my heels on.

The three security guards are talking to Romeo and Hawthorne.
 

“I can’t give a description,” I tell Slade. “I didn’t get a good look.” I drop my voice. “Please don’t make me talk to them.”

Slade comes to my left, putting himself between me and the security guards, and his fingers touch my lower back to reassure me, to keep me walking.
 

As we reach the elevator, I hear Romeo telling the security guards that he wants a copy of the footage on his desk by morning.

I guess he forgot that he won’t be in this office tomorrow, but I don’t point it out. The longer before he reviews that footage, the better.

Chapter 5

Slade drives a luxury sports car. Dark green of all colors, but it looks good. It’s designed for comfort yet sits low to the ground. There’s nothing feminine about it, but it’s the kind of car I’d buy if I had unlimited money.

At the moment I have no vehicle at all. I feel a frown settling on my face as I fiddle with the buttons on the side of the amazingly comfortable seat, adjusting it up, tilting the angle slightly back.