“I need to go,” she said stubbornly, keeping her gaze on the floor. “I don’t belong here.”
Xavier let out an impatient breath. “You belong wherever I say you belong. And right now, you belong in this apartment.”
A jolt of anger went through her and she raised her head sharply, meeting his gaze head-on. “I can’t. And if you stop me, I’ll . . . call the police.”
An answering anger glittered blue and hot in his eyes. “And what are you going to say? ‘Sorry officer, but Xavier de Santis is holding me captive in his twenty-million-dollar penthouse and won’t let me leave to go and freeze to death in the streets. Please, please help me.’?”
Her eyes prickled. No, those couldn’t be tears, they just couldn’t. She hadn’t cried in years. Not since the day she’d crept out of her grandmother’s apartment, battered and bruised, crying with anger and pain and fear.
Crying made you vulnerable and you couldn’t be vulnerable, not out on the streets.
She swallowed, a thickness in her throat, suddenly and painfully aware of just how out of her depth she was here. Of course she couldn’t call the cops. She didn’t know the significance of Xavier’s name, but given the fact that he rode around in a limo and owned an apartment the value of which she couldn’t even conceive of, he was clearly someone pretty important. And she knew from experience that the cops only listened to important people. Not to people like her.
Which meant she was trapped here.
A feeling of suffocation swept over her and before she knew what she was doing, she’d sidestepped him and started heading for the elevators. She didn’t even know where she was going, obeying only the blind need to get out.
“Mia,” he said sharply. “Where are you going?”
She didn’t turn, walking faster, breaking into a run.
Until strong fingers curled around her arm, pulling her up short.
She made a helpless frightened sound, her heart throwing itself against her ribs, a familiar blind panic welling up inside her. She tried to get free, tried throwing off his hand.
But he wouldn’t let her. Instead he tugged her around to face him and grabbed her other arm, holding her tightly as if he was afraid she might somehow get away from him again.
Her heartbeat thundered in her head, and suddenly everything became confusing. He was so close, towering over her, his body warm and powerful and strong. And she knew she should be scared, should be terrified, because men used their strength against women all the time.
Yes, she was scared, but it wasn’t the fear she’d experienced when those men had attacked her. Again, it was different. There was an excitement to it that fluttered in her throat, and a kind of need that pulsed right down low inside her.
His grip wasn’t causing her pain, yet his hands were firm and she knew she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. Even if she struggled with all her might.
You don’t want to escape. You want to stay right here.
The thought freaked her out. She took in a ragged breath, staring up into his eyes, conscious in a way she’d never been before that his height and strength were actually quite reassuring. As if he were a wall she could hide behind and be safe. A warm wall she could snuggle up against when she got cold.
He smelled good too, spices and heat, and all she could see was the midnight blue of his eyes, like the sky between the buildings she looked up into at night.
“You’re not leaving,” he said with absolute calm, making something echo inside her. “You’re staying with me.”
He’d spoken to her like this last night, when she’d panicked in the bath. Not shouting, not loud, yet with an authority she found weirdly reassuring.
But she could feel the panic moving in her blood, telling her to run, to get away, to leave before she had everything taken from her.
“I can’t.” Her voice sounded thin and fragile. “If I don’t go now, I won’t want to go back. And then it will be even harder when I do.”
Understanding rippled over his face, which seemed impossible when she’d already decided he wouldn’t understand. “Then don’t go back,” he said simply.
Chapter 6
Xavier didn’t pause to think about what he’d said. He only knew that if she didn’t want to go back to the streets, she didn’t have to. In fact, he was going to insist she stay for as long as she wanted anyway.
Of course, what exactly he was going to do with her if she didn’t go back to the streets he didn’t know, but that was another thing he preferred not to deal with right now. All that mattered was that she stay here safe with him.
She felt so fragile in his hands, her arms like little reeds he could snap if he squeezed too hard. He wasn’t used to being gentle, and yet with her he had no choice. He didn’t want to break her.