Page 162 of White Lies
“Abel burst in here because he heard I sold it today. Today, Faith. Actually, I gave it away. I took a three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar hit because I just wanted it gone.”
“You didn’t tell me,” she repeats, rotating to face the opposite direction and starting to walk toward the window.
I move toward her, intending to pull her into my arms, and she seems to know. She stops dead in her tracks. “Do not even think about touching me right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nick
I ignore Faith’s order not to touch her, snagging her wrist. When she tries to pull away from me, I step into her, catching her hips and guiding her to me. “You are what matters to me. You, Faith. Not some damn sex club.”
Her chin lifts in challenge, her eyes meeting mine. “Take me there.”
My rejection is instant. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Take me there, or I will go there on my own.”
“You’re not a member. You won’t even find it.”
“I’ve been in that world, Nick.Yourworld. Because I’m not naturally a bull like you does not mean I can’t be one if I need to be. And if you think I can’t make a few phone calls and find out where that club is, you underestimate me.”
“I have never underestimated you a day that I’ve known you, but you won’t get in the door.”
“Then I’ll stand there until they call you and you can let me in.”
She will. I see it in her eyes. “Why do you need to do this?”
“I need to know who you really are.”
“You knowme, Faith.”
“I don’t want any more surprises.”
Those words grind through me and make my decision. Because there are more surprises to come. I have to let her resolve this one from start to finish before we get there. I take her hand and lace our fingers together. “Come with me,” I say, and I start walking, opening the office door and leading her into the lobby. I don’t stop until we’re at the elevator, and I don’t give her a chance to withdraw any more than she has already.
I punch the call button and pull her in front of me, and when the doors open, I say, “There are cameras inside.”
“Which won’t matter if I’m alone. I need space.”
“Too bad,” I say as I walk us inside, holding on to her every step of the way. In a matter of seconds, I’m holding her in front of me again, nice and close, my hand on her belly, and we’re riding toward the garage. “You don’t have to do this,” I say near her ear, as if me saying this will miraculously make her believe it.
“I do,” she says, her hand coming down on mine, fingers closing tightly around it, barely contained anger in the death grip. “And on some level, I know you know I do.”
I didn’t know this would be her reaction, but in hindsight, I should have. I know Faith. When she spins out of control, she rebels against the free-spirited artist that she is at her core and tries to force control. The car halts, and the doors open, and I take her hand again, leading her into the garage. She digs in her heels. “I’ll follow you. I’m parked—”
“Negative,” I say. “You ride with me. You stay with me. Or you don’t go. And before you even think about arguing, this is nonnegotiable, Faith.”
Her expression tightens, but she clearly reads just how insistent I am on this. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll ride with you.”
I’m already walking, leading her to the Audi and clicking the locks. I open the passenger door and hold it open for her, reluctantly letting go of her hand. She inhales, as if steeling herself to be trapped in a cage with me, before ducking into the vehicle and settling into her seat. I stand there for several beats, fighting the urge to pull her out of the car again, kiss her, and force her to listen to reason. But I can’t force Faith to do anything, and if I could, I doubt I’d want her so fucking much. She’s made up her mind, and I have to ride the ride with her.
Still, as I shut her inside the Audi and round the rear of the vehicle, I mentally argue a case to go home instead of the club, knowing she’ll rebel but wanting to do it anyway. I’ll take her there. I’ll tie her to the bed, and I’ll make her come so many times she forgets the club ever existed.
But she won’t forget.
Fuck.
I open the driver’s side door and join Faith inside, that sweet amber-and-vanilla scent of hers colliding with the punch of anger filling the car and proving to be a brutal cocktail. Wanting this over with, I crank the car in reverse and pull us out of the space. I don’t turn on the radio. I want Faith to talk to me, to ask questions, but she doesn’t. Once we’re on the road, silence consumes us. Thick, heavy, a weight that promises to bury me—and us—alive. I want to say something to fix this, but I go back to knowing Faith. If I push her right now, she will thicken the wall she’s now thrown between us.