CHAPTER ONE
Wolfgang “Wolf” Tate’s three favorite things were, in no particular order, fighting, fucking, and blowing shit up. Sometimes he was sad he couldn’t do all three things together, but then blowing shit up while fucking was not only dangerous, but stupid. Fighting and fucking, well, he wasn’t averse to that.
Kidnapping, though, did not rank highly. In fact, kidnapping wasn’t featured at all, yet here he was, standing in Olivia de Santis’s bedroom at four in the morning, ready to put his hand over her mouth and haul her up out of her bed and over his shoulder.
He didn’t want to do it, he just didn’t. But fucking Cesare de Santis, her father and Tate enemy number one, had denied Wolf’s perfectly reasonable request to hand her over just days earlier, leaving him with no choice but to go grab her himself. She was a vital part of his takedown plan, which was why he was in her bedroom, watching her still, small figure sleeping deeply under her white comforter, preparing to take her with him by any means necessary.
The woman in the bed sighed and turned over, a bar of dim light from a gap in the curtains illuminating her face.
Wolf let out a silent breath, taking a second simply to look at her, because it had been a long time since he’d seen Olivia de Santis in the flesh, over ten years, all told. He’d been eighteen, ready to enlist in the Navy, and she’d been sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Yeah, a sweet kid, he remembered that clearly, and she still was, given the emails he’d received over the years from her. Though at twenty-eight, not a kid any longer.
It was probably a dumb thing to watch her like this, since every second he stayed in her room was another second he could be discovered, but shit, he wanted to look at her. The photos she’d sent him didn’t really convey the changes since that brief moment outside her father’s study, a week before he’d left to join the Navy.
They’d met when Wolf had been seventeen, the first time de Santis had invited him into his house, celebrating the fact that Wolf had agreed to work for him in secret, turning traitor on Wolf’s own family, the Tates. Olivia had been fifteen, a quiet, self-possessed young girl, who’d viewed him with suspicion initially—understandably since their families were enemies. But over the course of that year, Wolf’s frequent and secret visits to the de Santis mansion had meant they’d run into each other quite a lot in the library outside her father’s study, and slowly her distrust had melted away and a certain friendship had formed between them. It shouldn’t have worked. She was shy and quiet, and frighteningly intelligent, while he was loud and brash, and certainly not known for his brains. Yet for some reason it did. And when he’d left to join the Navy, she’d stayed in touch, emailing him regularly while he responded where and when he could.
Her face had matured, losing that teenage roundness and revealing a small, determined chin and slightly upturned nose. She had the same rosebud mouth he remembered and the dark, de Santis winged brows, but she’d missed out on the rest of the showy de Santis good looks. Not pretty, yet not unappealing either.
Not that it made any difference what she looked like. He wasn’t here for fucking. He was here because of his dead father’s last letter to him. A letter given to him two weeks ago at the meeting with his brothers at Leo’s alehouse, a military bar.
A letter containing a promise. The same promise his father had always made him—if Wolf completed the mission he’d been given, he’d finally, after years and years of hope, get to meet his mother. Because Noah had finally located her. Unfortunately, with Noah being dead and all, Noah wouldn’t be able to be there for the happy reunion, but if Wolf completed his mission, he’d be sent his mother’s location.
It was all Wolf had ever wanted ever since he’d been small. A family. A real family. And that letter … fuck, that letter was promising him that at last.
His father. His mother. Him.
All he had to do was kill Cesare de Santis.
Easy. No problem. He’d been training for that his whole goddamn life. It was going to mean a few sacrifices along the way, but his father had always told him that. “Nothing worthwhile comes without sacrifice, Wolf,” his father had said. “Nothing worth fighting for is taken without blood.”
Wolf had accepted that the way he’d accepted everything his father had told him. Because he knew a secret that no one else knew.
He wasn’t the foster son everyone thought he was.
He was Noah Tate’s real son.
Not that his father ever treated him that way. He’d told Wolf early on that he couldn’t afford to be a real father to him, not while the de Santis threat was hanging over their heads. But that if Wolf would do what he was told, become the weapon his father wanted him to be, then when it was all over, he’d get the family he deserved. Noah could finally acknowledge him.
It wasn’t that Wolf wanted the company or his father’s billions. Money had never meant anything to him. No, all he wanted—all he’d ever wanted—was for his father to tell the world that Wolf was his son. And then they’d find his mother.
But none of that would happen unless Wolf killed the man who threatened the entire Tate legacy. His father had been clear. Until Cesare was dead, Noah couldn’t risk bringing Wolf’s mother out of hiding and he couldn’t acknowledge his son.
Unfortunately Noah’s death had changed things. He wouldn’t be able to formally acknowledge Wolf now, but he’d told Wolf that his name was on Wolf’s birth certificate. So even if his father wasn’t around to see it, once Wolf had completed his mission, he would have all the proof he needed to show everyone that Noah Tate was actually his father. After he’d killed de Santis and gotten his mother out first.
Sacrifices. Yeah, Wolf was okay with sacrifices to get what he wanted.
Even if that included sacrificing his friendship with Olivia de Santis.
A twinge of regret hit him at the thought, but he shrugged it off. It was what it was and how he felt about it made less than no difference at all. She had access to Cesare’s schedule and he needed that if he was going to make a successful hit. The guy’s security was insane and Wolf had no intention of getting himself killed, not after all the years he’d spent waiting for his reward. It was why he hadn’t taken out de Santis when he’d met him in his limo a couple of days earlier. All this had to be done without it being traced back to him, to anything Tate in fact.
Which meant that becoming familiar with Cesar’s schedule, his movements every day, was a must. And the only person who had access to that was Olivia. Oh, she wasn’t going to want to give him the information willingly, not given how protective she was over her father, but he’d figure a way around that. He’d get that information by any means necessary.
Sacrifices and all that shit.
Moving soundlessly, he went around the side of the bed and crouched down beside it. He’d wondered whether he should have had a backup in case Olivia resisted, a rag soaked in chloroform or something, but in the end he’d decided that was too fiddly. He preferred to keep things simple. If she didn’t want to come with him, there were a few ways he could make her—without unconsciousness being part of the deal.
Still sleeping deeply, Olivia made another small sound and turned over onto her side so that she was facing him, nestling her cheek down into the pillows. One small hand had crept up to curl beneath her chin. She looked like a child, fast asleep and dreaming of fairies or whatever magical bullshit it was that children dreamed of.
That twinge of regret hit him again, which was annoying. Christ, it wasn’t as if he was going to do anything to her. He was only going to pick her up and take her away where he could get what he wanted from her without interference. Once he’d taken Cesare out, then he’d let her go. He just had to be careful not to let slip any of his plans. Of course, she’d probably guess in the end that it was him who’d killed her father—she was a smart girl after all—but if he was careful, she wouldn’t have any evidence pointing to him.
Or there were other ways to keep a woman quiet that didn’t involve death or violence. He knew a few. If it came to that.
He just had to make sure that kidnapping her wouldn’t blow his cover with de Santis. It was irritating that the night he’d told de Santis he wanted Olivia in return for taking out that arms dealer, de Santis had told him she was already promised to someone else, someone very powerful and very dangerous. He’d argued for de Santis to break the agreement, give Wolf a little something in return for fourteen years of being a Tate spy, but it soon became clear that de Santis wouldn’t. Or couldn’t, at least not without serious repercussions.
The man she’d been promised to was in the Defense Department, an alliance that de Santis needed in order to keep his gun-running on the down-low.
Wolf had had to make a small adjustment in his plans after hearing that. It was yet another reason the guy had to die. He’d been subverting good American sailors to do his dirty work for him, and Wolf couldn’t let that go.
He was a SEAL through and through. Loved his team. They were the family he’d never had and he’d defend them with his life, and the thought that de Santis had used one of them to sell his weapons on the black market had made Wolf want to break something. De Santis, if he had his choice. And shit, he’d take down de Santis’s Defense Department contact too.
Hence the kidnapping.
Olivia wasn’t going to like it, but that was too bad. He was on a mission, a mission he’d been working toward for fourteen years, and nothing was going to get in his way.
Wolf laid a hand across her mouth and held it there, then leaned in and whispered in her ear. “It’s me, Liv. It’s Wolf. Don’t scream.”
She didn’t immediately move and he wasn’t surprised. As far as she was concerned, she was sleeping in her own bed, in her father’s very well protected Upper East Side mansion, and probably the last thing she’d be expecting was an old friend come to kidnap her.
He waited patiently, keeping his hand where it was, over her mouth, feeling her warm breath against his palm. She gave another sigh, murmuring something and trying to turn over, her long dark lashes fluttering. But she must have realized something wasn’t right, because her lashes fluttered yet again then slowly lifted, her eyes dark in the dim light of the room, staring blankly at him.
He stared back as sleep began to clear from her gaze and realization hit.
Right on cue, her whole body stiffened, her eyes going wide with terror, her mouth opening under his hand, all ready to let out one hell of a scream.
“It’s me, Liv.” He pitched his voice low and hard to cut through her fear. “So don’t scream. I’m not here to hurt you.”
She ignored him, her hands shooting out from underneath the comforter, her body twisting, trying to get away.
Fuck, he didn’t need this shit. He’d thought she’d take one look at him, recognize him, and then be cool about it. Sadly it didn’t look like she was cool about it at all.
Cursing, he firmed his hand over her mouth and moved so he was leaning over the bed, using his weight to pin her to the mattress, stop her thrashing around and making noise.
She made an outraged squeaking sound, twisting like an eel, and he could feel her begin to draw her knees up to her chest in a classic self-defense move, all ready to shove him away with her legs.
Fucking hell. Perhaps he should have bought the chloroform after all.
Sure enough, she shoved at him hard, and maybe if he’d been a smaller, weaker man, that would have worked. But Wolf had spent ten years in the Navy, eight of them as an elite SEAL, and no one had ever defeated him in hand to hand, let alone a small, bookish woman who happened to be his friend.
Gently, because he was a big guy and she was very small in comparison, he eased his weight over her, pinning her entirely so she couldn’t move no matter how hard she tried. Then he lowered his head so his mouth was near her ear. “For fuck’s sake, Liv,” he hissed. “It’s Wolf. Calm the hell down.”
She struggled a second longer, then stilled. Her breathing against his palm was frantic and ragged, and he could smell a soft, sweet scent. Strawberries or something. Had she always smelled like that? He couldn’t remember. The important thing, though, was that she wasn’t struggling anymore. Perhaps she’d finally realized who he was.
“You going to be quiet now?” he whispered. “Nod if you are.”
She gave a jerky nod.
“Good. Okay, here’s the deal. I’m going to take my hand away and then I’ll tell you why I’m here. But no screaming, understand?”
Another jerky nod.
Wolf raised his head and looked down at her. The light was dim, her features indistinct, but there was no mistaking the wide darkness of her eyes staring up at him. Yeah, she was still scared, wasn’t she?
Slowly, he took his hand away from her mouth.
“Get off me, you asshole,” Olivia de Santis gasped on a rushing breath. “You’re crushing me to death.”
Huh. Maybe she wasn’t so scared after all.
He shifted, easing his weight off her, moving to sit on the side of the bed.
She scooted away from him until her back hit the headboard, her hands gripping the comforter and pulling it after her, holding it in front of her like a shield.
A long moment passed where she simply stared at him and he wasn’t sure whether she was scared or shocked or pissed, or a combo of all three. Not that it mattered. He didn’t have time for explanations, not until he’d gotten her to the safe house.
“What are you doing here, Wolf?” she asked at last, her voice slightly shaky. “I mean, how did you get in? The last I heard from you—”
“I can’t explain now,” he interrupted, glancing at the door. “We have to get out of here.” Was that a footstep he heard? He knew the security de Santis had on the mansion inside out. He also knew that since his brother Van had rescued their adoptive sister Chloe from de Santis’s clutches not two weeks earlier, de Santis had doubled said security. Which meant at least a couple of guards would be out in the house somewhere.
“What do you mean we have to get out of here?” Olivia glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Oh my God. It’s four in the morning. What on earth are you—”
“Now, Liv.” He stood up, grabbed the comforter, and jerked it out of her grip. “Come on. We’ll go out the window. Don’t worry, all you have to do is put your arms around my neck and hang on.”
She didn’t move, staring at him with wide eyes, obviously in shock. She was wearing the most ridiculously prim nightie he’d ever seen—long and white, with a high neckline and lots of little buttons. Very Olivia and no doubt really fucking annoying when it came to climbing out of windows.
“Well?” He frowned at her. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
“You’re kidding right?” She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bedroom.”
Shit, he really didn’t have time for this. Should have brought the damn chloroform.
“I’ll tell you, I promise. But we need to leave before someone discovers I’m here.”
Her expression turned concerned all of a sudden. “Are you feeling okay? Something’s not wrong is it?”
Jesus Christ. She thought he was sick.
Rapidly losing what little patience he had—and he never had much to start with—Wolf leaned down and circled his fingers around her upper arm, holding her firmly. Then he jerked his head toward the window. “Out. Now.”
Olivia blinked.
Then she opened her mouth and screamed.
* * *
It was clear to Olivia that Wolf Tate had gone stark raving mad. Not only was he in her bedroom when the last email she’d had from him had mentioned being in Wyoming for his father’s funeral, but he was also trying, for no good reason that she could see, to get her to escape out the window with him. That was after lying on top of her, all huge and muscular and frightening the living daylights out of her.
That wasn’t the Wolf she knew. The Wolf she knew was a quiet, respectful, and genuinely nice guy, not to mention way more intelligent than he often thought he was. He was her friend. And friends didn’t sneak in through windows trying to get her to come with them.
She probably shouldn’t have screamed, but she was still muzzy with sleep, not to mention struggling with the shock of him being right there in her room, in the flesh, after ten years of nothing but email contact. And when he’d taken her arm in one huge hand, his long fingers holding her gently but firmly enough that she couldn’t get away, screaming had been instinctive.
Except the scream ended up muffled, vibrating against his palm as the other huge hand clamped itself over her mouth instead.
His face was suddenly inches from hers, the color of his mismatched eyes muted in the dim light of the room. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled menacingly. “And if you bite me, I’ll bite you back, understand?”
Olivia snapped her teeth together with a click, only just missing his skin, fighting to remain calm as adrenaline pumped hard through her system. Fear and shock and anger tangled themselves together inside her, along with a familiar, wild thrill of excitement.
He’s back, her stupid brain kept singing. He’s back. He’s back. He’s back!
She glared at him, trying to get her feelings under control and pay attention to the situation at hand, trying not to simply stare at him, study the lines of his face to see how he’d changed, find the young man she once knew in the hardened Navy SEAL standing in front of her now.
He’d sent her a couple of photos of himself while he’d been on base and on deployment. One of him in uniform when he’d graduated as a SEAL and one of him standing in front of a tank with a massive gun cradled in both arms. She hadn’t noticed the differences ten years in the Navy had made then, but boy did she see them now.
He’d always been tall—six five to her five five—not to mention broad, but somewhere along the way, he’d filled out too. And how. Massive shoulders, arms that could lift a small car, a heavily muscled chest that strained the black cotton of his top and the worn black leather of his jacket. But that wasn’t all. Back when she’d known him, his features had been unformed, giving him a bland kind of handsomeness. But they weren’t unformed now. The years had sharpened them, making his jaw hard and his nose a blade. Giving him high cheekbones and broad forehead. A man’s face. Rough and battered, with lines at the corners of his eyes and around his quite frankly beautiful mouth. And to top it all off he had a short, dark Mohawk that made her want to run her hand through it, see if his hair was as soft as she suspected it was.
God. He was even more gorgeous now than he’d been at eighteen.
Stop staring at him, you idiot. He’s got his hand over your mouth don’t forget. Anyway, weren’t you supposed to not be in love with him?
There was that. What had started out as a teenage crush had gradually, over the years they’d corresponded, deepened into something more. Something that wouldn’t ever be returned—she knew that too. He’d never felt about her the way she’d felt about him.
Not that it mattered right now. Not when he was standing there with his hand clamped over her mouth muttering something about not wanting to be discovered and how they had to escape out the window.
There was an intent look in his eyes, and it suddenly hit her that he was in fact serious. That he did indeed want her to go with him. Right now.
Olivia opened her mouth to tell him he could take his hand away and explain just what the hell was going on when his gaze snapped to the door of her bedroom. He gave a soft curse, then before she quite understood what was happening, he removed his hand from her mouth and slid one hugely muscled arm around her waist, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing at all.
Too shocked to say anything, Olivia stared at the ground, trying to figure out why her world had upended itself and what exactly she was doing draped over one of Wolf’s massively powerful shoulders.
But she didn’t have time to puzzle it out because he clamped one arm around her legs, holding her still, and then he was moving over to the window.
Her heart rate skyrocketed as she heard him pull aside the curtain, and she twisted, trying to see what was going on. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded breathlessly. “Put me down!”
He didn’t answer, but then the world tilted yet again and there was cold air swirling up underneath her nightgown. And when she looked down, she found herself staring into the darkness of the garden that lay at the base of her window. A garden that was a good three floors down.
Dizziness caught at her, a scream building in her throat.
Dear sweet baby Jesus. Wolf had actually climbed out of the window and now there was nothing between her and a three-story drop but empty air and him. She closed her hands reflexively onto the black leather of his jacket, the scream escaping as a hoarse cry. “Wolf!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He didn’t even have the grace to sound concerned. He just sounded irritated. “Just don’t struggle and you’ll be fine.”
There was a sickening drop, his shoulder abruptly pushing hard into her stomach, and she gasped, shutting her eyes so she didn’t have to see the ground rushing up to kill her.
But there was no impact, only another couple of drops and then one hard bounce. And then it felt like he was walking, and fast. She opened her eyes again, and this time she saw the sidewalk reassuringly under his feet. It would have been a relief if she hadn’t been held over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
With an effort, she got her tight jaw to work. “Y-You can put me down now.”
“Nope.” He was jogging, and she had to swallow hard as the dizziness hit her again, the movement bouncing her against his back. “Nearly there, though.”
Olivia barely had time to wonder where that was before he’d come to a sudden stop and she heard the sound of a car lock beeping. Then she was pulled from his shoulder and bundled into the back of the car.
She sat there for a second, too stunned to move, her brain struggling to accept that she wasn’t in her cozy bed anymore and that the man she’d been friends with for over ten years had apparently kidnapped her. Then, as the driver’s door slammed shut, she pulled herself together and reached for the door handle.
Only to find herself sliding across the seat as Wolf pulled away from the curb in a screech of tires. She squeaked, scrabbling to hold onto one of seats in front of her as he made another hard turn, making her slide the other way.
His gaze met hers in the rearview mirror, a passing streetlight illuminating his different-color eyes, one green and one blue. “Put your fucking seat belt on.”
Her heart was beating far too fast and for some reason she wasn’t nearly as terrified as she should be. Or as furious with him.
Great. Just great. He’s kidnapping you and all you can think about is how exciting this is and how wonderful it is that he’s here.
Was she? Was she really that stupid?
That was up for debate, but not putting on her seat belt simply because he’d ordered her to, really would be stupid. Especially since he was driving like a maniac.
With shaking hands, Olivia grabbed the seat belt and clicked herself in, still holding onto the seat in front since even with the belt she kept sliding around. “Are you ever going to tell me what the hell you’re doing?” she demanded, hoping she sounded strong but knowing she probably didn’t.
“Yeah.” He made another screeching turn, zigzagging through what little traffic there was with all the casual expertise of a race car driver. “But not until I get you somewhere safe.”
A bubble of some sort of emotion caught in the back of her throat. Perhaps it was finally panic? If so, she was probably due.
“I was safe in my bedroom,” she pointed out, clutching hard onto the cheap vinyl.
“You were. But I wasn’t.” Wolf kept looking in the rearview mirror and not at her. Was he checking to see if they were being followed?
“Dad probably wouldn’t have liked you being in my bedroom at four in the morning, no. But it’s not like—”
“I promise I’ll explain it all when we get there,” he cut her off, scowling. “But could you just shut the fuck up for two seconds? I need to lose this tail.”
Nice. She didn’t remember him being this rude.
Olivia opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with his damn tail, but then the car swerved and swerved again, then accelerated, and anything she’d been going to say went completely out of her head as death in a head-on collision loomed large in her future.
She bit down on yet another scream as a garbage truck pulled out directly in front of the car and she braced herself for impact. Except again, there wasn’t one. Wolf simply put his foot down, swerved around the truck, dodged a motorcycle, made a hard left down an alley then another right, cutting across a main street and narrowly missing yet another truck, before ducking into yet another alley.
By that stage, Olivia had had enough.
She closed her eyes and laid her forehead against the seat in front of her, praying to whomever would listen to get her out of this in one piece. Oh yes, and maybe save Wolf too, though she wouldn’t mind if he suffered an injury as payback for scaring her half to death.
She didn’t know how much time passed, but finally the sickening lurches of the car stopped and she realized that in fact the car had stopped too.
There was a moment’s silence broken only by the ticking of the engine. The driver’s side door opened then slammed shut, the sound echoing weirdly, and another door opened, cold air rushing into the car and making her shiver.
“Liv?” Wolf’s rough, gravelly voice, much harsher and deeper than she remembered. “We’re here.”
She swallowed and lifted her head, glancing out the windows of the car.
“Here” appeared to be an underground parking garage.
Wolf was standing at the open rear door of the car, staring at her, massive arms crossed over an equally massive chest. And despite having been kidnapped from her bedroom at four in the morning, not to mention barely surviving the car journey from hell, a small bubble of joy exploded in her chest.
Now that there was more light and she wasn’t being hauled around over his shoulder, she could see he wore what looked like a black thermal with a black leather jacket thrown over the top, worn jeans, and heavy black boots. The fabric of his thermal clung lovingly to his broad chest, highlighting every superb muscle, while the denim of his jeans clung to his lean hips, pulling tight over powerful thighs.
She couldn’t stop staring.
Ahem. He kidnapped you, don’t forget.
Olivia took an unsteady breath and attempted to pull herself together. She really should be yelling at him, not staring like a lovestruck teenager. It was shock, definitely shock.
His straight dark brows lowered, mismatched gaze narrowing. “You okay?”
Swallowing, she tried to unclench her hands from the seat she’d been clinging to, a shiver sweeping through her. God, it was cold. Really, really cold.
“F-Fine,” she said, deciding to ignore the tiny stutter. “If you could call being woken up at four in the morning, tossed over someone’s shoulder, carried down the front of a building, then driven by a maniac into an underground parking garage ‘fine.’”
“Yeah, I get it. I know this is a hell of a surprise, but I wasn’t given much of a choice. Come on, get out of the car. You look like you’re freezing your tits off.”
Very carefully, Olivia did not look down at her chest, even though she was, literally, freezing her tits off. She didn’t like not being in control, really, really didn’t like it, and being kidnapped—no matter that her kidnapper was a friend—was the very definition of not being in control.
It was very important that she get some of it back.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said clearly. “At least not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
Wolf made an impatient sound, his boots scraping on the concrete as he shifted on his feet. “I’ll tell you upstairs. It’s too cold down here and you’re only wearing…” He paused, his gaze dropping down to her nightgown. “What is that? A nun’s outfit?”
“Habit,” she corrected automatically. “A nun’s outfit is called a habit.”
“Outfit, habit, whatever. You’re cold. So come on, let’s go.”
“And I’m not wearing a nun’s habit. It’s my nightgown.”
“Liv. Seriously. I don’t give a shit what it’s called. You’re shivering and you need to get warm.”
She was shivering. But she also wasn’t getting out of this car until he told her what the hell was going on. Sure, she might get hypothermia, but she had to draw the line in the sand somewhere. He wasn’t going to have this all his own way. Had he been this pushy ten years ago? She couldn’t remember.
“Well, I don’t give a shit about shivering or being warm,” she said, consciously mimicking his flat tone. “I’m not leaving the car until you tell me why I’m here.”
He was silent a moment, glaring at her, letting her know in no uncertain terms that he was very unhappy with her little ultimatum. Then finally he said, “Okay, one last time. Are you going to get out of the car?”
Olivia folded her arms, more to stop herself from shivering than anything else. “Does it look like I’m going to get out of the car?”
“In that case you got three options. One, you stay here and spend the next few hours locked in the car. Two, you come upstairs with me willingly, where there’s a bed, a bath, where you can warm up and also get a couple of hours’ sleep. Three, I pick you up and throw you over my shoulder again and take you upstairs whether you fucking like it or not.”
Okay, now she was starting to feel angry about the situation—and about damn time. She wasn’t going to let him get away with shocking her like that, with absolutely no explanation whatsoever. Friends didn’t do that, they just didn’t.
She met his gaze and lifted her chin. “I believe I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”
Copyright © 2018 Jackie Ashenden
