Deep (12 page)

His smile came slow. “Yes.”

And I wouldn’t pay him back with money, that much was clear. He would take what he’d wanted in the car. What he’d wanted all along. He would take me.

I had the sense suddenly that I was one of his mechanical wire birds, twisted into just the configuration that he liked, made to move and fly when he wanted me to, caught in a cage when he wanted that instead.

“Is
that
why you came to my dorm room? Because you knew I’d have no choice?” Betrayal tied a knot in my throat. “What kind of man does that make you?”

“A man of opportunity. I didn’t get where I am today by letting them fall through my fingers.”

“You could have asked.” I made my voice low, an angry, unkind version of him. “Ella, would you like to go out with me like a normal couple?”

“We will never be a normal couple.”

At least he was honest about that. Being forced to have sex with him to save my brother. No, that wasn’t normal. “How long?” I demanded because I’d seen what being used had done to Shelly. I’d seen how hard it had been for her to leave. “How long would I be yours?”

“I told you in the car. There is no expiration date. This won’t ever be over.”

I flinched. “You’re wrong.”

“Make no mistake, the thing with your brother just moved up my timetable. I was always coming for you, kitten. You were always mine.”

My heart thudded in something like recognition. Like agreement.

There was a sound at the door. Adrian had puffs of white flour on his shiny dress shirt and a smile on his face. “Dinner’s ready.” He took one look at our expressions and sighed. “I’ll keep it warm.”

*

I
WANTED TO
search for my brother immediately, but I needed Philip’s help. I needed transportation out of here, for one thing. I also needed contacts to the criminal underworld.

But before any of that, I needed food. I hadn’t eaten since last night—my stomach growled at the sight of lasagna on the rustic kitchen table. It seemed we would eat in here tonight, instead of the dining room where Adrian would not have been invited. Even in this casual setting, there were wide-bottomed wineglasses and linen napkins embroidered with sun-touched hillsides.

Apparently we were all hungry, because the thick ceramic platter emptied of lasagna quickly. The only sounds were gentle tings of forks against plates or the pours as Adrian refilled my glass with dark red liquid.

The atmosphere was more somber than comfortable, with Philip mostly silent and brooding.

When Adrian spoke, he didn’t bother interrupting Philip’s reverie—making me think it was a normal occurrence. Instead he focused on me. Even though I knew he intended light conversation, I couldn’t keep what I’d learned a secret so soon after the phone call.

“Jesus,” Adrian said after I told him, setting his fork down. “You don’t know where they’ve taken him?”

I glanced at Philip, but he didn’t look at either of us, focused on some invisible point. “No,” I said. “They’re waiting for contact, but even when that happens, they don’t have the money to get him back.”

Adrian’s gaze flicked to Philip, and I knew he was wondering the same thing. Would Philip pay it? And just how much would it cost me? Everything, Philip had said—was that too high a price to pay for my brother’s life? The answer came swiftly and painfully: no. I would pay anything, everything.

I guessed Philip already knew that.

Numbness would be great right about now. I took another gulp of the sweet, sharp wine.

“That’s some luck,” Adrian said. “An incident with the cops this morning and your brother taken at gunpoint last night.”

Yes, it was some luck. But no accident. I met Philip’s enigmatic gaze, challenging him to admit the truth now. “Who did you say hurt you last night?”

His gaze met mine, and I saw that he had been listening all along. He gave me a slight smile, not entirely kind. “I didn’t.”

“Of course not.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Worried about me, kitten?”

“Surprised, that’s all. A normal night for me would be study group or a Netflix marathon. Not a bleeding man on my doorstep.”

Adrian chose that moment to reach for the wine bottle—he was silent, very discreet. Philip covered the rim of my glass with his hand to block him. My lips had touched that rim repeatedly, and Philip’s fingers resting on the thin glass looked somehow intimate, almost obscene.

“Enough,” he said softly, his gaze on me.

Adrian set the bottle down on the table and got up. Without a word he left the room.

I blinked in surprise—and maybe a little annoyance. “Do you always speak to him that way?”

“I was speaking to you.”

Anger rose up in full force, but before I could say a word, Philip was out of his seat. I stood to counter him, unwilling to back down. He kept coming at me, undeterred. My body ended up flush against the wall. He stood close enough that his broad chest filled my vision. I had to look up to meet his gaze.

His expression didn’t mirror mine—no anger, no helplessness. Only hunger.

“You have no right,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I have every right.” His thumb brushed my lip. “This mouth. This body. It’s mine. I’m the only man who can touch it, who can fuck it.”

I flinched. “You’re a bastard.”

That earned me a low chuckle. “I’m a bastard because I take what I want. Because I keep what’s mine. Did you imagine it would be any different when it came to you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, even though I didn’t know what I would say. Whatever it was, it would be scathing. It would condemn him. And then his lips brushed over mine, and it was too late.

Time’s up
. That was what he’d said in the car. It was what he said now, but not with words. With the achingly soft caress of his lips, the inexorable demand of his tongue. He wanted inside my mouth. He wanted inside my body.

I pressed my lips together, stubborn and resistant—like a child holding her breath to get her way.

It was his hands that convinced me, the way they gripped my hips. There was so much knowledge in that grip, as if they would hold me the same way when he was buried inside me. It undid me. I was no longer a stubborn child, but a woman—and my lips parted on a sigh of surrender.

He took every advantage, pushing my mouth open so there was nothing I could do but submit to him. His exploration was both thorough and sensual. There was an animal grace to the flick of his tongue, to the power of his body. It didn’t feel like payment for him helping my brother. It didn’t feel like a question either. It felt like he was taking something from me—and the base part of me gave in without a fight.

Firm hands pulled my hips flush against him. I could feel the ridge of his erection, and he ground me on it—not moving his body against mine, but instead mine against his, using me to give himself friction. Heat bloomed between my legs, my secret spaces desperate for that same motion deep inside me.

When he pulled back, I was panting and flushed. I bit my lip to keep from begging for more.

His cheeks were dark, eyes like onyx.

The moment was charged with desire, with danger. My heart knocked against my ribs, and I waited for him to tell me what that was. To tell me what he wanted. I waited for him, the way he had waited for me all these years.

His gaze sharpened, and I thought he might say something important. Something personal. Then a steel gate slammed down on his expression, leaving the cold, detached man in his place. This man might not have been kissing me just seconds ago. This man didn’t feel a thing.

“Consider that your down payment,” he said.

Chapter Twenty

I
DREAMED OF
Philip that night, of his large body looming over mine, of his murmured promise.
Consider that your down payment.
I wanted to hate him for that. It was cruel to make me pay with sex while my brother’s life was on the line.

He may as well have put a gun to my head.

A man of opportunity.

I didn’t see him the next morning—not over coffee with Adrian or in any of the rooms when I went searching. It was as if he’d left the house. I hoped that wasn’t the case. I needed him.

And I supposed there was one upside to my
down payment.
It meant we had sealed our agreement. And Philip may be a lot of things, but he didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would back out on a deal.

By midafternoon I was determined to find him. Adrian bustled around the kitchen wearing a paisley apron of navy blue and maroon. The spice of chili filled the air. My stomach grumbled.

Adrian glanced over, grinning. “Grab a bowl.”

“I’m looking for Philip. Do you know where he is?”

That earned me a silent laugh. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.”

I stuck out my tongue. “Come on, you must know where I can find him.”

“What I know is that he’ll be found when he wants to be.”

“Fine, be that way.”

I spent another hour searching before I found his office, not spacious like the study with the little wire machines. This was tucked away, small, dark. I had to find the fake door from the workout room to get there.

After all that, of course it was empty.

This house was almost as large as his primary home, though with a more contemporary style. More straight lines and glossy surfaces. The office was no different, a granite slab for a desk and a pale cream leather wingback chair. Shelves were set deep into the wall, lit by an unseen light source above each one.

The plush carpet was impossibly soft beneath my feet. I circled the room and paused beside a framed picture. It was a close-up, an artistic piece half in shadow. I could only see half of a face and the curve of an arm, but I knew who it must be.

Rose, again. She had been a ballerina then with the city corps de ballet.

She’d had a rough childhood, but an old ballerina who taught at the YMCA had seen promise in her—and she had danced with all the discipline and power and grace that Philip brought to his criminal dealings. Excellence was a family trait.

“Looking for me?” The low voice came from behind me, and I whirled.

“Yes,” I said with a small smile. That was all I could manage with my heart pounding. I gestured to the picture. “Does she still dance?”

“Not professionally.” He strolled into the room, hands in the pockets of his slacks. He didn’t seem angry. In fact, he seemed almost…pleased. The way a lion would be pleased to find a mouse in its den.

My throat was dry. “Oh. Does she miss it?”

“I imagine so.”

That distracted me from my fear. “You haven’t asked her?”

“I haven’t spoken to her in six months.”

“Why?”

He sat down in the cream leather chair and leaned back. “She’s not my biggest fan right now.”

“Hmm.” I remembered how close they had been. If I’d had any doubts, her framed picture here would have proven it. Across the room there was another artistic close-up—a child’s chubby cheek next to a grown-up’s scruff-covered jaw. Colin and his daughter, Bailey, I would have guessed. He’d adopted her once he’d married her mother, and love was plain on his face.

Family.

His expression was droll. “Do you have an opinion on that? Of course you do.”

“It doesn’t really matter what I think.” If we were friends, I might have been worried about Philip. He seemed so isolated. But we weren’t friends. He required sex as payment during the darkest moments of my life—first from Shelly, now from me. Not exactly a strong foundation for a friendship. “What does your brother think?”

He scowled. “Digging again? I haven’t spoken to Colin in a while either.”

I tried not to care. “They left you?”

“Maybe I pushed them away,” he said. “For their own good. For their protection.”

“Or for yours.” Philip thought the worst of himself—and he wasn’t entirely wrong. But everyone needed family. Even knowing that my parents didn’t really love me, I couldn’t break those ties. Maybe that made me pathetic or desperate, but I couldn’t think Philip’s forced distance was any better.

“Be careful with that shovel,” he said drily. “You might hurt someone.”

That drew a smile from me, a real one. “Hey, it’s because of you that I’m not in class right now. You may as well give me some practical experience.”

He leaned back, the motion slight but somehow suggestive. “If you want practical experience, all you have to do is ask.”

Dirty images flashed through my mind—me in a pencil skirt, kneeling underneath that desk. Him on a conference call, trying not to make a sound. “We call that avoidance.”

“Fine.” He leaned forward. “Dig into this. I did protect Colin and Rose. For so many years that was the only purpose in my goddamned life. First from our bastard of a father, then from hunger, starvation, from crackheads—from the court system who tried to take them away, put them in foster homes. I protected them, and now they have lives of their own, families of their own. My job is done.”

So where did that leave him? Alone. My heart clenched. These were slippery rocks, loose pebbles underfoot. I could slide here. I could fall. “I’m sure if you told them you missed them—”

He made a dismissive sound. “They’re better off without me.”

He actually believed that. “No,” I managed to say. “They love you.”

“I’m toxic. They know it. I know it. It’s time you learned it too.” His dark gaze swept over me, from the loose brown hair around bare shoulders, to a tank top with a little more room in the bust than my small breasts could use, to the bare feet peeking out from underneath soft jeans. “Come here, kitten.”

God, I hated that my body responded to that pet name. And I secretly loved the thrill it gave me. “I already paid the down payment.”

He laughed, low and threatening, like the dark roil of an incoming storm. “It’s a start.”

“How much will this end up costing me?” He wanted to scare me, that was all.

He didn’t plan to keep me. No one really did.

His dark eyes burned with an almost savage intensity. It was something close to hate, close to love. Possession. “There isn’t a part of you I’m not going to touch, isn’t a wall I’m not going to break down. Understand? You want to know how much you’ll pay? Everything, kitten. Every damn thing.”