Ryan (Mallick Brothers #2)(24)

But she didn't move toward the open door. She froze on the spot, her hands down at her sides clenching and un-clenching over and over.

"Just going to the car," I told her, moving up and wrapping her hand in mine and giving it a squeeze. She didn't look up at me. She didn't relax. There was no remedy attached to my touch. But she nodded her head and we moved into the hall, pausing just so I could lock the door and then making our way down the hall.

"No," she said, her voice a little frantic when I moved toward the elevator.

"No?" I repeated, brows drawn together.

"Stairs," she demanded, nodding her head toward them.

I could feel it then, just a small vibration coming from her hand and moving up my arm. And when I looked down, I could visibly see her trembling.

"Stairs it is. Think you can keep up with me?" I added as we pushed out the door to the first landing.

"I think I could outrun a cheetah right now," she said, taking off down the stairs, nearly crushing my hand in hers as we made our way to the next spot she knew she could breathe in.

Mark watched us coming from where he was locked out of my car. I bleeped the locks and he turned to put the shit in the trunk. Except the cat who he left on the hood as he gave us a big smile. "Did he ever tell you about how he once tried to quit track?" he asked as we ran over and Dusty grabbed desperately for the door handle and went inside, shutting it with a slam and resting her head back on the headrest, taking deep breaths.

"Wow," Mark said, the smile falling as he watched her struggling to even out her breathing. 

"Believe it or not, this isn't that bad," I said, taking Rocky and opening the back door, putting him inside, and closing it.

"How do you think she's gonna take the new place?" he asked, following me toward the other side of the car.

"You know, I think she's alright once she's behind a closed door. She might need to take a bath or something, but then she should settle down and be alright. I think it's in her power somehow to make any closed room her own kind of comfort zone once she gets over the shock of it."

"Alright, well let's get it over with for her," he agreed, cupping my shoulder and then moving off toward his own car.

I let myself inside my own, reaching out to give her thigh a squeeze. "Okay?"

She exhaled hard and opened her eyes. "No," she admitted. "But I will be."

"That's all we can hope for, right?" I asked, giving her another squeeze before throwing the car into reverse and getting a move on already.

"Where are we going anyway?"





TWELVE





Dusty





A hotel?

He was taking me to a hotel?

I mean, I didn't know much about security or anything, but I was pretty sure just about anyone could walk in and out of a hotel at anytime. Right?

We didn't drive right there, though. Ryan took a long, winding path that led us two towns out and then circled back, Mark a few cars behind at all times.

I guess it would be the real-life equivalent of making sure you didn't have a tail. Which, in a weird way, was kind of cool.

But then we pulled into a somewhat packed parking lot to a six-floor hotel in a gorgeous gray stucco, everything about it screaming 'expensive'. I bet I couldn't even afford the cheapest room in the building for a one night stay.

So when Ryan jumped out and the door attendant rushed over in his immaculate suit and took the key from Ryan and addressed him by name, well, I pretty much had to force my gaping mouth closed.

"Mr. Mallick, long time no see," he said, as he went to open the door for me.

"I got her, thanks," Ryan said, stopping him and letting me take a somewhat deep breath.

The ride had done wonders to soothe over the frazzled nerves, to help me breathe again.

Quite frankly, the absolute last thing I had expected when he came back into his apartment was him saying we had to leave. As in... both of us.

I guess a part of me had sort of been expecting I could turn Ryan's apartment into my own new little prison, but this time with a hot guy who was sweet as all hell and happy to give me one-sided orgasms to share it with me.

Which was, well, silly.

I knew that.

Trading one prison for another wasn't going to work indefinitely. We had even talked about it the night before- about how he wouldn't expect miracles, but that we could work for progress.

And, being forced from his apartment and staying in a place I had never been to before, while mildly (okay, moderately if not acutely) terrifying for me was not the best way to go about it, it was still progress.

My heart was still a hummingbird's wings in my chest and I was queasy and sweaty and miserable, but I wasn't dizzy and I wasn't gasping for breath and I wasn't sure I needed to make a mad dash to the nearest exit and run back to my safety zone. Because, well, my safety zone was a decidedly unsafe place right then. In a very literal, not imaginary way I made up in my mind.

So when Ryan reached inside and offered me his hand, I put my clammy one in it and internally freaked the hell out about him feeling said clammy hand, but I still climbed out of the car and I still went with him as he led me away. Not to the big front desk area I could see through the sparkling glass doors though. He led me over toward the side of the building where there was another entrance, more understated, with the word "residents" over it.



       
         
       
        

He was a resident?

Who the hell was a resident of a very expensive hotel but had an apartment too? I didn't know a heck of a lot about the topic, but I knew residents of hotels paid an arm and a leg to live there.

"Mr. Mallick!" the girl behind the desk in a very formfitting gray dress that was professional, but clung to her large hips and chest in a way that bordered on risqué greeted him with a beaming red-lipstick smile.

And there I was in leggings and a roomy sweatshirt without a lick of makeup on with bruises, scratches, and a swollen freaking eye.

Lovely.

It had been so long since I worried about things like appearances that the insecurity came on me like a kick to the stomach. I ducked my head, letting my hair fall like a curtain as Ryan greeted the girl by name and promptly led me away toward a golden elevator where he put a keycard into to access.

It wasn't until we were nestled inside that he spoke to me again. "Sorry, but the elevator is the fastest way to the top floor," he supplied, his tone apologetic. "Hey, look at me, honey," he demanded a moment later when I just kept studying the very shiny marble floor. "Dusty," he attempted again, snagging my chin and forcing my face up. "You're not panicking," he said, as if he was ruling out what could possibly be wrong with me.

And, well, it was never smart to tell a guy you just started seeing that you were having a bout of insecurity because of some pretty desk attendant at a hotel. If there was one thing guys were sure to hate, it was pointless insecurity.

Goes without saying I think she's gorgeous if I'm dating her, y'know? That was what Bry had said when he bitched about the girl he was seeing asking him all the time if he was looking at other girls and comparing her to them.

"I'm alright," I allowed, listening to the floors ding as we passed them. "Rocky..." I said, suddenly remembering him and feeling like a really crummy pet owner.

"Mark and the porter will bring everything up. Mark has a key," he added.

Porter.

You knew a place was fancy when they called a bellhop a porter.

I looked up as we hit a longer ding, indicating the floor and saw the little readout saying PH.

Penthouse? Seriously?

"Here we go," he said, stepping out into the doorway and holding an arm out for me.

I half-expected to walk into the penthouse itself, but it was a hall that had a door on each side.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked as the heaviness started in my chest again. I needed to distract myself as Ryan slipped the keycard into the door and it bleeped.

"Sure."

"Why do you have a penthouse residence at a hotel when you have an apartment?" 

He let out a low chuckle as he opened the door and went inside. "It's not technically mine. We all, my brothers and my parents, put into this place. Just in case we ever needed or just wanted a place away."

Their 'place away' was almost ostentatious.

The whole back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the Navesink River. The whole space had an open floor plan from the living space that featured a huge fireplace with seating room in front of it to the dining space to the kitchen. Everything had the same warm tan, white, and brown swirled marble as the elevator from the floors to the kitchen counters. The furniture was all neutrals- white accent chairs, beige couch, medium wood tables.

"Come on, you want a bath?" he asked, knowing I had a hell of a morning. It was a little thing, but it meant something to me regardless.

"Yeah," I agreed, letting out a long-held breath as he took my hand and led me down the hall.

There was a half bath to the right along with a bedroom. But he took me to the left and into the master suite. It had the same color scheme and a giant bed across from a massive TV with no wires hanging anywhere.

Then there was the master bath. And, well, it was the stuff of dreams. There was more of the same marble on the floors and in the walk-in glass shower. There was a double vanity with huge mirrors and overhead lighting. And, finally, the tub. If I thought my soaking tub was nice, and it was because I spent a lot of time researching it, then this one was extraordinary. In fact, I was pretty sure three people could sit in it comfortably. And it wasn't a whirlpool, a personal hatred of mine. It was just a massive soaking tub.