The Billion Dollar Bachelor(21)

Hardly. You’re an engaged woman now, aren’t you?

She forced that thought back to the darkness it came from. No, she wasn’t engaged. Not really. This was all supposed to be for show, to get her father off her back.

“You’re insane. You know that, right?” she said, looking up at the glittering glass and steel edifice.

Jax finished sending a text or e-mail or whatever it was from his phone and put it away in his jacket pocket. He was dressed in an expertly tailored suit and tie, all that primitive, exciting masculine power firmly encased in his civilized armor. His expression was unreadable, his blue eyes opaque. “I told you not to worry. Nobody’s going to be marrying anyone.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” She swallowed, trying not to let the panic choke her.

“You need to trust me. In fact you probably should have trusted me last night.”

Pandora glanced at him. “What? And told you my name?”

“Yes.”

“And what would you have done if you’d known I was Nick Garret’s daughter?”

The look in his blue eyes flickered, giving her the answer she’d expected anyway.

“Yeah, well, now you know why I didn’t.” Regardless of that though, she had trusted him last night and that had been before she knew who he was. Now? God, it wasn’t as if she had a choice anyway. She either went back to her father and married Sergei or …

“I don’t need you to bring me back here,” she said, gesturing out the window. “I can go …” She trailed off. Because of course, she couldn’t go anywhere, could she? She had no other clothes, no money, nothing.

“Where?” Jax’s blue eyes were almost cold as they swept over her. He seemed … different from the raw, passionate man he’d been last night. Much more contained. Detached even. She wasn’t sure she liked the change.

“I dunno. A hotel or something. If you loaned me some money that is … ”

The car door was pulled open by the driver, and the sounds of the city flooded in.

“You’re not going to a hotel,” Jax said flatly. “I wouldn’t trust your father as far as I could throw him. No, you’ll be under my protection now, which means you’re staying with me at my apartment in the Morrow Tower until we sort this out.”

“Under your protection? Jesus, you’re as bad as my father. This isn’t the Middle Ages, you know! I’m not some little doormat woman you can order around whenever and wherever you please.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Do you?” All the anger and frustration that had been trapped inside her back at the apartment seemed to roll over her in one choking wave. “Do you really? Because if you think I’m going to go into another fucking cage, another fucking tower like a good little girl, you’ve got another think coming.”

He stared at her, blue eyes seeing right inside her. Then abruptly he leaned forward, putting a large warm hand over hers where it rested on her knee. “It’ll be okay.” His voice was so certain and sure. “I promise. You only have to trust me. Can you do that?”

The heat of his hand seemed to move up her arm, spreading out, somehow easing the clutch of emotion inside her. A reassurance she hadn’t even realized she’d needed. She let out a breath. “Yeah … okay. I … trust you.”

He didn’t move away immediately, the look in his eyes changing, flaring. That detached manner of his had dropped away, tension crackling in the air between them. He could slide that hand higher and inwards, his fingertips brushing…

She caught her breath, her body beginning to respond, an ache between her thighs. In all of this mess there was at least one thing that still remained the same: their chemistry.

She thought he might lean forward more, to kiss her or something, but just when the tension got to snapping point, he removed his hand and looked away. “After you,” he said without inflection.

Oh, yes, right. The door was open.

Not without a certain amount of reluctance, Pandora got out. Jax followed and she waited while he spoke to the driver, then came along behind him into the building. The foyer was cavernous and echoing, with lots of glass and marble—a testament to money and style.

Jax went over to a bank of elevators and swiped a card through one of the readers. The doors opened almost immediately and he gestured for her to enter first.

“Very polite,” she muttered as she stepped inside. “Quite the gentleman, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to be.” He punched a button and the elevator began to move.

She leaned against the railing at the back, trying to ignore the fact that they were in a very small, confined space alone. “You weren’t last night.”