I bit down against them, letting the anger surge in to take their place. Focused on Bennet. God, I detested the piece of shit in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before.
Dirty.
Just having an association with him made me dirty.
I knew that I was.
A demon.
The devil.
A light tapping sounded at my office door.
I dug my fingers a little deeper into my eyes to try to quell the sting, voice scraping as I tried to keep it level. “I’m busy, Marcus. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
My executive assistant knew well enough when to step away and not interrupt.
So, I rocked back in surprise when my door snapped open anyway.
That surprise shifted to a straight shot of disbelief.
Shock and anger and relief.
A tidal wave of that crazy energy flooded across the floor. My mind was rejecting the fact that she was standing there.
Part of me wanted to shout at her to get the fuck out. To scream that I didn’t have time to play games, that I didn’t want to listen to a goddamned thing she had to say, but my body was definitely on board.
I could still feel her on my skin. Taste her on my tongue.
My dick twitched, and I swore beneath my breath.
Not good.
Fuck me if I was going to let this girl have the upper hand.
She stood in my doorway, wearing a floral wrap-around dress that hugged all those curves and a pair of heels that made the girl look like she stood a mile-high, tall and proud and somehow vulnerable.
All those lush waves were twined in a neat knot on the back of her head, and she was gripping a big black bag she had slung over her shoulder.
Still, everything was completely off from yesterday.
Like she’d gone to a different place.
That energy alive, but brimming with hesitation.
Disturbed.
Confused.
Purposed at the same time.
Anxiety fisted my guts.
She pushed her way in, lifting her delicate chin like she was trying to make a statement that she had every right to be there.
Shit.
She was pretty.
So damned pretty that I could physically feel some of those hard spots going soft, and my heart was doing some stupid, wayward thing, beating faster than it should. Getting caught up in her presence.
With my hands planted on my desk, I pushed to my feet. “What are you doing here?”
Why did you leave?
Did I fuck it up already? Were you terrified of me last night? Did I prove just what an asshole I am?
She snapped the door shut behind her and eased deeper into my office, chewing on that bottom lip that I had half a mind to kiss. To just grab her and kiss her senseless the way she was driving me.
And that right there was the very reason I should turn my back. Tell her to walk.
Nerves blazed across that soft flesh, and she anxiously twisted her fingers. Then she was taking a desperate step forward and watching me with those eyes.
They were like looking into a bottomless aquarium.
Diving into the deepest sea.
“I need your help,” she rasped, the words so tight and emphatic that they sank in and took hold.
Possessiveness swelled. So fast, I felt consumed by it. Suffocated by the need to hunt down any fucker who might have hurt this girl.
Anyone who’d even had a single thought about doing something that would harm her.
I’d known it from the start.
This girl had been running.
If that was the reason she’d left last night? Someone was going to pay.
“Anything.”
Shit.
What was I saying?
But the promise was out before I could reel it back in.
My fucking resolve shot. Emotions tossed from one extreme to the next.
Hate. Hope. Lust. Anger.
Her gaze flashed in adoration.
The girl was looking at me like I could be her hero.
Her savior.
When the only thing I’d ever done in my life was destroy the things around me.
She took another pleading step forward until I was inhaling her, pink sugared petals pressed to my nose.
“You’re an attorney,” she said.
A statement.
I raised my arms out to the sides, irritation latching onto the word. “Obviously.”
Unease stirred. A feeling climbed my legs, telling me that I wasn’t going to like what she’d come to ask of me.
“I want to hire you,” she said, voice just as resolute as the firmness of her nod.
Uh . . . no. I was most definitely not going to like what she was going to ask. In fact, I was feeling a little pissed off.
What did she think, I was some kind of fuck for hire?
Another one of those steps, and she brought us so close she’d nearly erased all the space. So close that I could touch her. Get lost in her the same way I’d done last night.
The second she did it, I was slammed with urges, ones of bending her over my desk and pushing that dress up over her hips. Taking her from behind. Hard and fast and rough.
Could almost picture me having to cover that sweet mouth while I made her scream.
Incredulous laughter rambled around in my chest. “You want to hire me?”
It came out sounding more like an accusation than a question.
She nodded, the decisiveness from the second before wavering, her tone slipping, verging on something frantic. “I don’t just want to, Ian. I need to. I need someone who’s willing to stand up for me. Fight for me.”
Those eyes were pleading, begging for help.
How was I supposed to ignore that?
An itch started in my throat, and I reached up and yanked at the collar of my shirt where my tie had become too tight.
Someone was playing a cruel joke. Choking me out.
“I can’t represent you, Grace. I think you know that.” There was no softness to the words. No sugar-coating. Frankly, she was out of her mind if she thought I was all of a sudden going to be standing in a position of influence over her.
Not unless the influence I was exerting was in my bed.
My head angled down, my mouth at her ear, voice tripping into sex. “I fucked you last night, remember? And now you’re coming here asking for me to represent you? I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.”
I could scent her, the way desire seeped from her pores and her breaths turned short from my proximity.
One of those hands came up to the pounding at my chest.
Not helping matters.
“Please . . . I don’t have anyone else.”
A swell of protectiveness washed through my insides, this nudging to do what was right for once. My mind raced. Seeking a solution.
Okay, fine.
I might not be able to represent her, but at least I could make some calls, right? No big deal. Set her up with someone who could help her through whatever issue she needed help with.
“What do you need help with? I’ll see what I can—”
“A custody battle.” She cut me off before I could get the rest of the sentence out.
I froze, shock a boom in the middle of my brain.
A custody battle.
I let it sink in for a second.
Then I went fumbling back, trying to put space between us when white-hot panic went streaking through my veins.
Fight or flight.
I didn’t know which one I was more inclined to give in to.
To run right the hell out the door or get in her face for fucking setting off this bombshell in the middle of my office.
“Excuse me?” I demanded, voice going hard.
Harsh.
Fueled by hate and fear.
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
She started shaking. First her hands and then it spread to the entirety of her body. A storm. Everything she’d been holding inside working its way out.
Secrets.
Motherfucker.
“I need . . . I need someone to represent me. My babies . . . he’s trying to take them away.”
She kept coming closer with every word that she said while I continued to back away. “I . . . I made a mistake. I fought him in a way I shouldn’t have, and he turned it around on me. I should have known he’d fight dirty. That he’d lie and cheat as a way to threaten me, to control me, to get me to do what he wanted. He’s trying to have me declared as an unfit mother. Saying I’m crazy. That I’m a thief. That I’m no good for them. Of course, he’ll gladly drop the whole thing if I go running back to him.”