“The one uptown can.”
Christ. He didn’t have a lot of patience—once he’d made a decision he went with it and didn’t overanalyze or rethink. Then again, he’d never made a decision to take a homeless woman home before.
Maybe you should rethink? Because don’t kid yourself you don’t know what this is all about.
Irritation twisted in his gut, but he ignored it. This was not about his mother. Sure, she’d never acclimated to the move to New York when his father had dragged her to Manhattan from Wyoming, and had probably had undiagnosed depression for years—his father didn’t believe in psychoanalysis or shrinks—but that had nothing to do with him or the monumental screw-up he’d made of her meticulously planned Christmas party.
No, her suicide was all her own work.
“Listen,” he said, this time not bothering to hide his impatience. “I don’t give a shit what the shelter uptown can do for you. You’re coming home with me and that’s final.”
Sparks ignited in her eyes. “I’ll call the police. Don’t think that I won’t.”
“Oh yeah?” He gave her a pointed once-over. “With what? Your latest iPhone?”
Her expression flickered and he supposed he should have felt like a prick for reminding her of her position so blatantly. But he didn’t. He only wanted to help, and she was being ridiculous.
Right. Some rich guy she doesn’t know suddenly pulls her into his limo and offers a bed for the night. You don’t think that might make her a little wary?
Well, sure. But he didn’t want to sit here forever making her un-wary. They could have this conversation back at his apartment where he could at least get some food into her. If he had food, that was. He hadn’t been home a lot the past couple of weeks, after all. Then again, Mrs. Thomas, his housekeeper, usually made sure there was at least something in the fridge.
Mia had looked away again, saying nothing, but he could sense her outrage. Her whole body was rigid with it.
He sighed. Okay, so he didn’t have a lot of patience, but he could at least try to hold onto what little he had. “Let’s forget I said that.” He kept his gaze on her narrow, fine-boned face. “But think about it, Mia. I’m not expecting anything from you and I promise not to touch you again. All I’m offering is a night at my place, no strings. Face it, that’s a much better offer than the shelter, right? You can have your own room, and remember that bath? I’m not kidding about the jets.”
As a sales pitch it wasn’t half bad, even if he did say so himself. Which he did.
Her lashes came down, veiling her black eyes, and she said nothing, going quiet on him again.
Jesus, what did she want from him?
Frustrated, he thought for a moment, then bent, reaching down for his knife again. He took it out of the sheath and this time he didn’t wait for her take it, but laid it gently in her lap instead.
Her lashes came back up again sharply, her inky eyes meeting his in surprise.
“For your protection,” he said. “If I come anywhere near you, you can cut me with it.” Her mouth opened, but he held up a hand. “And I don’t want to hear anything about that stupid excuse for a knife you’re currently carrying around with you. Keep mine for the night at least. You can give it back to me tomorrow.”
Her mouth closed. Then she looked down at the length of smooth, gleaming steel he’d laid in her lap. She lifted a hand, her finger tentatively touching the plain, carved wood of the hilt. It wasn’t anything fancy, the De Santis 5 Compact, but then a good knife wasn’t. It was simply beautifully made, expertly balanced, and with an edge sharp enough to cut silk clean through.
He watched her face as she gazed at the knife, saw the expression that swept over her features. It caught at him like a fishhook catching on a rock. Because he thought it looked like longing, or yearning, which was a strange emotion to have when looking at a knife.
Then she let out a breath and looked up at him finally. “Fine. I’ll come. But just for the night, okay?”
* * *
When Xavier de Santis’s limo pulled up right outside one of those soaring glass-and-steel skyscrapers, just like the ones she’d gaze up at from the safety of her alleyway, Mia wondered if she hadn’t made yet another massive mistake.
Because really? This was where he lived?
She peered out of the window as the limo rolled to a stop, her gaze traveling up all that glass, trying to see the top of it.
Yeah, this was definitely a mistake. She’d thought she’d be able to handle wherever he was taking her to, not having any real idea of where that would be, but hey, a bed was a bed and a bath was a bath, right? And although she was wary about accepting anything from him, she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t stay a night on the streets, not in wet clothes and in this cold. Which meant her only alternative was the shelter uptown. But she didn’t feel safe there and the thought of spending the night there filled her with dread.