The Dare Collection April 2019. Nicola Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ Ajax King kept getting in the way.

      Maybe that was why I hadn’t screamed when Ajax had appeared in the bathroom. Why I’d believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt me.

      He might have once been the heir to the biggest crime empire in Sydney, but he wasn’t now and any enemy of my father was a friend of mine.

      Of course, I hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d appeared in the doorway and clearly I wasn’t thinking straight now if all it took to make my heart thump was one look into his eyes.

      Forgetting that I’d promised not to speak, I opened my mouth to ask him what was going on but, before I could, he bent and picked me up in his arms.

      My stomach dropped away, the world lurching around me; every question I’d been going to ask vanished from my head.

      I’d never been held by a man. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d been held, full stop.

      Had it been this hot? Because that’s all I was conscious of. An intense, stunning heat surrounding me. From the hard torso I was lying against and the strong arms locked around me. It made something restless and antsy inside me go utterly still.

      I caught my breath.

      ‘Hide your face against my chest,’ Ajax murmured before heading straight to the door.

      My brain didn’t seem able to process the instruction. Hide my face? Why? And what was he doing? Didn’t he know that—

      There was a sudden crash as he kicked the door open and I caught one glimpse of Colin and the other guy—a new guard whose name I could never remember—and instinctively I turned away, hiding my face against Ajax’s broad chest, just like he’d told me to.

      The cotton of his shirt had been warmed by the hot skin beneath it and his scent filled my senses. Sandalwood, maybe, and...cedar? I’d taught myself about perfumes once and remembered the scents. Anyway, it was amazing. I pressed my cheek against the fabric, feeling firm muscle beneath it, and inhaled, the smell of him going straight to my head.

      ‘What?’ Ajax demanded, his deep voice making his chest vibrate against my cheek. ‘Get the fuck out of my way.’

      Silence.

      I should have been paying attention to what was happening, but being in his arms was way too distracting.

      The warmth of his body was soaking through the stupid white cocktail frock Dad had insisted I wear tonight, and I was conscious of how hard he was. Like he’d been carved out of rock, not muscle and bone.

      The restless thing inside me had curled up and gone to sleep, as if it felt safe. As if it knew that he would protect me if anything went wrong, which was strange since I knew that men in general weren’t particularly safe to be around.

      ‘We’re looking for Miss Imogen White,’ Colin was saying. ‘She was in the—’

      ‘Don’t know, don’t give a fuck,’ Ajax said casually, continuing to walk with me in his arms down the corridor. ‘Go check the damn bathroom yourself. There’s no one in there now.’

      ‘But you must have—’

      ‘If you hadn’t noticed, I’m busy.’

      There was more silence after that and, given that Ajax hadn’t stopped, it must have meant my guards hadn’t realised it was me in his arms. The suit jacket and cap now made sense; he’d been trying to hide my identity.

      I’d relaxed totally against him, but curiosity stole through me and I began to turn my head, only to have him say gruffly, ‘Keep your head where it is. We’re not out of the building yet.’

      I nodded and closed my eyes, inhaling warmth and spice and the faint smell of laundry powder from his shirt. His heart was beating beneath my ear and I could hear the rhythm of it, steady and strong and sure.

       Like him.

      Odd thing to think about a man I’d only just met and didn’t know. Maybe I was drunk. Maybe I was high. On him and his magical scent. Whatever, I accepted the thought without protest.

      Not that it mattered. He could have been Jack the Ripper and I would have been okay with it if he could get me out of the building without being seen.

      The thought of freedom being so close made excitement surge through me and if I hadn’t been held so securely in his arms I would have wriggled.

      Keeping still was something I found difficult at the best of times, but most especially when I was excited or angry or sad.

      A fidgety chatterbox, all the nannies had said about me.

      A mess, said my father, looking at me with the disapproval that used to cut me so badly when I was a kid and longing for his attention.

      My mother had died when I was born and if she hadn’t, things would have been different. Dad would have been different. But she had and he wasn’t, and all I remember wanting was his love.

      He didn’t like my insatiable curiosity or the way I couldn’t stop moving. I used to try to stay still, to not piss him off by jogging my leg or humming or asking questions, or any of the other things I did that irritated him, but it had always been a constant battle.

      But it wasn’t until I was eighteen that my inability to check myself had consequences. Terrible consequences.

      Since then I’d tried to stay in the box Dad had put me in, but the fight against my restless nature was never-ending and quite frankly exhausting.

      I didn’t feel exhausted now, though. Now I could have lain quiet and still in Ajax’s arms all day.

      I rubbed my cheek absently against the cotton of his shirt, wanting to get closer to him, and he made a growling sound. ‘Fuck’s sake, don’t move until I tell you. Your hair will come down and people will see it and they’ll guess who you are.’

      I stilled obediently. ‘Who do they think I am now then?’

      ‘Some girl I’m carrying back to my cave to screw.’

      The words travelled down my spine like an electric shock. ‘Really? Do you often carry girls out of balls to screw?’

      ‘You can stop talking now.’

      ‘But what about—’

      ‘Quiet.’

      There was a note of deep authority in his voice that calmed me, not that I needed extra calming right now. I was so calm I was nearly catatonic, lulled by his heat and the feeling of being held gently and carefully. As if I was something precious he didn’t want to drop.

      A large group of people passed by us, their conversation loud, and then cooler air brushed against my bare legs, the glare of neon and streetlights illuminating the white of Ajax’s shirt.

      We must be outside.

      It felt like we were walking down some steps and I could hear cars.

      Regret gripped me. Being outside СКАЧАТЬ