Chapter 28

I could still feel the intensity of his eyes and the weight of his words the next day.

He would protect me. I had friends.

I should have been thrilled that he thought of himself as my friend and protector. So why did I feel disappointed?

I did my best to distract myself by working hard. If he was going to spend time thinking about protecting me, I was going to do my best on the orphanage story.

It was six forty-five and everyone at Social Scene was gone by six at the latest. I was able to do good work in the quiet office, and I stiffly got up from my desk, hitting save on my document before grabbing my bag and heading through the empty cubicles toward the elevators.

I steeled myself as I got out at the 14th floor penthouse to face Jessica and her latest snide comment, but when the doors opened it was only Amy who greeted me with a slightly tense smile.

"Hey," I said, pausing at her desk. "Where's Jessica?"

Amy shrugged. "I don't know. To be honest, I'm kind of worried. She hasn't been back since lunch."

"That's not like her," I thought, remembering how much she liked to be involved, or try to control, everything that went on in the office.

"And just for your information," Amy nodded at the closed door to Charles' office. "It's not all unicorns and roses today."

I nodded slowly. "Thank you," I said, taking Amy's warning as I went to the door and knocked.

"Come!"

I looked in, wary of Charles' tone. He looked up at me and his eyes softened slightly. He sighed and stood up, stretching.

"Elena, is it dinner time already?"

I went closer to his desk, trying to keep my eyes off his torso. "Busy today?"

He groaned and flopped back down in his chair. He picked up a pen and began to tap it against his notepad.

I went around his desk and leaned against it. "Do you need me to come back?"

"Oh no you don't," he said. "You don't get out of dinner that easy."

"Then can I help?" I asked, a little stung at his foul mood. The pen continued to whap so hard I thought it might crack.

Instead, it suddenly broke free of his grip and went flying past my head. I ducked and it pinged into the window a few feet behind me.

"Wow," I said, looking at it on the floor and staring back at him. "Talk about tense."

"Crap," he muttered, and stood suddenly, brushing past me to stoop and get the pen. He came back and sat, resuming the tap, more gently this time.

I pulled a chair next to him and sat, thinking my proximity might help.

I was right. After a moment his tapping slowed and he began to breathe more deeply.

I held out my hand for the pen, and he placed it in my palm, but instead of drawing back he grasped my hand, the pen stuck awkwardly between.

He lifted our hands to his lips and nose and inhaled. His eyelids fluttered close and he rumbled an exhale deep in his chest.

I felt myself quiver from my chest down to my toes. It felt so good to feel wanted, to feel like I was making a difference to someone.

When he lowered his hand, I drew to me. Gently I unclasped our fingers, set the pen aside, and then used my thumbs to spread his strong, hard palm open, his fingers curling around my hands as I dug into his palms.

I squeezed and dug my thumbs into the flesh of his hand, circling and pressing on what I knew were pressure points. I heard him sigh and slump in his chair.

His fingers began to relax further and I squeezed my way down each digit, easing the tension out. His single hand was as large as both of mine put together, but my hands were strong and I could feel him beginning to relax.

"What's so stressful today?" I asked casually as I went back up to his wrists.

He breathed more heavily. "You may not know this from the way I broker deals with you, Elena, but I'm a pretty damn good negotiator."

I nodded, letting him talk. I gestured for his other hand and he eagerly presented it.

"Not just in business, though. I've been asked by the state government to help broker a deal."

"For the government?" I interrupted, trying not to show how impressed I was.

"Yeah, but it's not possible when the people who say they want something keep letting their egos get in the way. Politicians are maddening."

I nodded, easing away tension in his other hand, feeling his fingers unclench.

"I've been so preoccupied with these morons all day that I didn't even eat any of the donuts someone brought in this morning."

I stopped and looked at him. "Stop everything. No donuts?"

He grinned at me. "Right? Maybe I'm ill." He put my hand to his face. "Do I feel hot?"

Yes.

"I think you need an amputation immediately."

"Let me guess. Starting at the neck?"

"Evidently some people, like politicians, wouldn't approve of that surgery."

He pulled my hand closer and pressed it against his warm, soft lips. My breath caught in my throat.

"Always getting in the way, those pesky politicians," he said absently, his eyes half closed as he breathed in the scent from my skin. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and my own began to come faster.

He drew closer to me, inhaling softly. His other hand that wasn't holding mine went to my face. His finger gently toyed with a tendril of hair and tucked it behind my ear, then continued down my chin.

His vetiver scent filled my senses, his blue eyes were overwhelming and so close that I could see his thick, black eyelashes.

He came closer, his eyes focusing on my lips. His heat, his scent, they came closer and I shut my eyes, our faces inches away. His vetiver scent filled my mind, overwhelmed my thinking.

A knock at the door sent me jolting upright. Charles, however, stayed where he was. His eyes, however, flickered open and a look of annoyance flashed across his face.

He sighed and turned toward the door. "Yes?"

The door opened and Amy put her head in. "The governor’s assistant is on line one."

"Again," he said without a question, but a sigh. "Thank you, Amy."

She appeared to linger, but he turned his back on the door and went to reach for the phone.

"Thai food?" I said quickly. He looked surprised but then nodded curtly, already snapping into character as he picked up the phone.

As I closed the office door behind me, I heard him answer the phone, his powerful Alpha voice in full voice.

I pulled up Charles' favorite Thai food restaurant on my phone and ordered what I knew he would like.

When I offered to get some for my Amy shook her head, looking distressed.

"I'm just thinking about Jessica. She isn't picking up her phone. She isn't answering texts. It isn't like her."

"If you weren't at work, what would you do?" I ask.

"I would go check at her house. It's only twenty minutes by train. Ten in a cab, even with traffic."

"I think you should go. Do you have any work you need me to do while you're gone?"

Amy shook her head. "Nothing I can't do tomorrow, but I don't dare ask Charles to leave today."

I nod, grabbing her bag for her. "Go. I'll man the phones out here. What if something's wrong with Jessica? It's best to find out."

She took her bag, her face hesitant. "Are you sure?"

"I'll take all responsibility if Charles doesn't like it."

Amy smiled. "Thank you. I just have a really bad feeling about this."

"Werewolf women's instinct," I said, smiling. "Not to be ignored."

"Exactly," she called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the office toward the elevator. "And thanks again, Elena."

I watched her go, waving as the elevator doors closed.

I didn't want to admit it, but I had a bad feeling about it, too.