Worth the Risk(67)

“My father’s not very happy with you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He was struck by a sudden annoyance with everything in the room. The people. The music. The woman in his arms. He wanted Hannah in his arms. Wanted to pull her body against his own, press his nose into her hair. Wanted to look into her eyes, not smoldering like Blair’s, but warm like a fire on a cold night.

“You know that project is important. The money you stand to make is extreme.”

When he’d pulled out of the St. Kitts deal, so did two-thirds of the other investors. Not his problem. It was business.

“Did your father send you to change my mind?”

Blair’s lips curved in a smile meant to tempt and seduce. “Can I change your mind?”

He searched the edges of the room. “No.” How long did it take to go to the bathroom?

Blair kept the hand at his neck planted, fingers digging in, eyes flashing. “You need to get your head on straight. This is important, Stephen.”

No. It really wasn’t. Though there was a time he might have thought so. He looked again. Finally, the one who did matter came into sight between the bodies that swayed and turned around him. And damn it—some bastard was slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. And Stephen was moving, eyes zeroed in on Hannah, sidestepping bodies as he made his way across the room.

It all happened in slow motion. Hannah jerking back, colliding with a passing waiter. The scatter of glass, a pillar holding a giant flower arrangement tilted and teetered on edge before crashing to the floor.

Son of a bitch!

Blood roared in his ears as he pushed past people. Stephen grabbed the man, who was spewing obscenities at Hannah, and insinuated himself between them. He hit him once, twice, relishing the feel of his knuckles connecting. Gasps and shouts came from nearby guests as the rest of the room danced on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hannah on the ground. He felt her distress and still, he wasn’t sure he would have stopped if security hadn’t arrived and hauled the guy up and out.

Hannah skated back from the hands of well-meaning strangers, avoiding even his. The wrap had fallen and she frantically grabbed for it, trying to cover the marks on her arms. Her dress bunched up around her legs, exposing the pale purple lines from wounds and surgeries. The obviously intentional markings and patterns on her thighs clear.

“Oh my God.” Blair gasped from where she stood on the fringe of the gathering crowd.

He crouched beside her. “Hannah.” She didn’t look at him, just scooted back farther. Afraid or still not wanting him to see her. Either one tore at him and he struggled to push back the worst of his fury. He had to get her out of here before he came apart. “It’s okay, baby. Come on now. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for a response, he scooped her up and started across the room. The guests gave him a wide berth and he figured the dark emotions must be clear on his face.

The limo ride was quiet. Uncomfortably so. The killing rage boiled so hot inside him, he feared what might come spewing out if he opened his mouth. They sat side by side, his arm tight around her shoulders, Hannah’s body stiff against his. It was all he could do to keep the hand around her relaxed while his other fisted on the seat beside him. He needed to say something. Needed to be a different kind of man.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” She shook her head quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He nearly exploded at her whispered words. “For not wanting his hands on you?”

“I overreacted.”

He almost laughed at that, seeing as how he’d lost his shit, but it wasn’t funny. “Hannah. Look at me.”

She stared at her lap. “I know you’re angry.”

He turned, took her face in his hands, and waited for her eyes to meet his. “Hell, yes. I’m fucking mad as hell, but not at you.” He brushed back a few fallen strands of hair from her cheek. “Never at you.”

Damn it. He wanted to comfort her even as every cell in his body screamed to hurt someone.

Then she laid a hand on his cheek. She gazed up at him, big amber eyes shining with the passing city lights and…he was lost. Amazed and shaken that she could do that to him, for him, he took her mouth hard, tasted chocolate and Hannah. The blood pumping hot through his veins with fury begin to pulse with something else.

“I don’t want anyone’s hands on you but my own. And I’d rather be here.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth. “Doing this.” Without taking his mouth from hers, he pulled her into his lap.

Then in the dark luxury of the limo, he kissed her like he’d been dying to kiss her all night. Maybe forever. She met him, pressed into him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their mouths moved, tongues stroked. Everything about the night, everything boiling inside, came down to this second, this woman.