Branded (Strand Brothers Series Book 1)(7)

As we left the room, the secret service guys arrived. One of them asked, “Mr. Strand?” Thor tilted his head over his shoulder and commanded, “Take care of that.”





I was quickly taken to a limo where my protector steadily assisted me into the back. We sat in silence for most of the drive. While I appreciated the quiet so I could pull myself together, I needed to text Renée. “Do you have a cell phone I can use?”

“Sure.” He handed me his phone. As I began to type my message, I inquired, “Where are you taking me?”

“My place,” he replied.

My text read: I’m safe. Not home. Will explain tomorrow. A.

Since I wasn’t using my cell, I hoped she realized it was me. I passed the phone back over to him when it vibrated with a text. He read what was on the screen aloud: “Where’s your cell? No worries. Talk to ya later.” He quirked a brow at me. “Did you want to answer the question?”

I shook my head. “She knows I’m okay.” I affirmed, “That’s all that matters.”

“Indeed.”

I glanced back over at him. “What’s your name?”

He reached over and placed his hand on mine. “Nik.”

Puzzled, for a moment, I tried to figure out how I knew that name, and then it hit me. “As in business mogul, ex-heavyweight UFC champion, Nik Strand?” I could hear the awe in my voice. Did he?

He inclined his head. “Yes.”

Holy crap! I turned my hand so I could lace my fingers with his. “I’m Aimee Taylor.”

He chuckled low and squeezed our hands together. “Nice to meet you, Aimee.”





Chapter Two



Aimee



There was no rhyme or reason as to why this man felt so familiar to me. As we walked into his penthouse, I studied his face. His bone structure would make a sculptor cry with joy, but I knew I’d never seen him before tonight. Or, had I? That was the confusing part of it all. Also, it didn’t escape my notice he was inspecting me as well. So I shouldn’t have been surprised by the extraordinary heat that passed between us when he placed his hand on the small of my back to lead me further into the room. I’d felt the waves of attraction before, but this was more—as if my body recognized his. Where did I know him from? I mean, sure, everybody knew who he was. Still, there was something else I couldn’t put my finger on.

He stepped away, and, for some unknown reason, I felt bereft. He offered, “Would you like something to drink?”

Ah, I could orgasm from his voice—which was laced with a barely there accent—alone if he kept talking. Again, there was a hint of familiarity I couldn’t quite place. I replied, “I’d love a brandy.”

He approached the sideboard and prepared my drink. The man was sheer perfection—all sharp lines and hard muscle, not to mention huge. He must still work out a lot for his body to look like that. My fingers itched to run through his glorious mane, which was at least six shades of blond. Women paid a high price for hair like his. When he returned to sit next to me, I got my first good look into his eyes. My goodness, they were glacial blue, intense and shrewd. Reality hit, this was a man who got exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. No questions asked. Hmm…I’d only ever seen irises like his once before. Interesting.

I accepted the drink he handed me. “Thank you for everything.”

There was a ghost of a smile on his perfectly etched lips. Heavens, the man was pure masculine perfection. I wondered what his face would look like with a full megawatt smile. I was willing to bet it would be panty dropping. I held the sifter in my hand and tried not to stare at him. He gently removed my glass and set it on the coffee table. With his fingers stroking my jaw, he turned my face towards him. “Why don’t you tell me how you know Reynolds?” He spoke Caleb’s surname as an expletive. There was definitely some bad blood between the two.

Instead of answering his question, I asked one of my own. “What happened to make you hate him so much?”

His steely gaze held mine. Unbidden, an image of a Viking came to mind. Fierce. Powerful. Oh, this man was a force to be reckoned with. And God help me, I was more than a little turned on. He countered, “I asked first.”

Yes. Yes, he did. “Point taken,” I conceded. I looked down at my hands for a moment and willed myself to spit out my story. I knew once I did, he would want nothing to do with me. I reached over for my glass and downed the rest in one gulp. His eyes widened in surprise. I replaced it on the coffee table and squared my shoulders. “He was my client.”

“Client?” he inquired, “What business are you in?”