Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (12 page)

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, putting her under the covers and lying beside her but on top of them. His body screamed at him, needing the contact with her flesh after what he’d done. And she’d offered him mercy. He should be begging her, but the words refused to leave the constriction of his throat. His eyes burned as she turned into him. Ryan held her, stroking her hair and back, needing to do it for both of them. He was being selfish, but he needed this last contact. After this there would be no more.

He wouldn’t put her through him. It wasn’t fair. She was everything he’d ever wanted; he’d recognized it from the very first time he’d seen her. And she didn’t deserve a man who’d been broken early on in life and then been cast into the shell of a hardened soldier. She deserved someone whole who’d love and cherish her, keep her safe.

She deserved someone who was more than him.

Chapter 11

Sophie watched him leave under the cover of her lashes. He’d held her for an hour and then he’d gotten up and dressed. He’d not looked at her once he left the bed. Lying there, she’d realized what had happened. He was a soldier, and she’d walked up on him in sleep. He’d woken as a soldier would—quickly, deadly.

He’d hurt her, but the reason was so obvious she wanted to pound her forehead against a brick wall. Instead, she’d remained silent as he’d stroked her. He must have thought her asleep, because he’d kissed her on the forehead, whispered “I’m sorry,” and left the bed.

His face in the bathroom earlier flashed through her mind and the anguish on it brought tears to her eyes now. Ryan had done something irredeemable in his eyes, and she’d done nothing to absolve him of it. Of course, she’d been scared shitless, but ultimately, once she’d figured out the why of it, she’d kept silent.

Ryan had gone after her, and she’d been taken back to a place she never wanted to visit again. Several years ago, men searching for a way to force her brother to pay up on outstanding debts had assaulted her. They’d leveraged her pain against his reticence to pay back illegal loans. Those men had beaten her, sending her to the hospital for several days. The scar at her hairline was a constant reminder that she’d been to a bad place and survived.

This wasn’t that place. Not by a long shot. This man wasn’t out to hurt her.

The front door shut and wetness stung her cheeks. She raised her hand to wipe the tears away and encountered the wrapping. A breath shuddered through her as she went over the past few hours. From ecstasy to agony, it was a rough ride, and she’d let him leave as she’d lain there feigning sleep.

Coward
, her heart berated her. Part of love—
oh damn
. Love. Is that what this was? She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, a brand-new panic rushing through her. Yes. She’d gone and done it, the unthinkable. She’d fallen in love with Ryan Locke. And then she’d watched him walk out of her bedroom to leave her house without offering him solace.

She rubbed her chest, the ache there growing as she wondered what the hell she was going to do. She didn’t have time for this love business. Responsibilities weighed her down and he was her boss. Her freaking boss.
Oh shit, I’ve fallen in love with my boss
.

Sophie glanced at the clock and winced. She was late for work. She fell back on the bed and groaned before she reached for the phone to call and let her supervisor know she was going to be late. The pinched tone of her supervisor’s voice told her she was in for a reprimand. Snark was in full effect as the woman reminded her that Mr. Bent was waiting for her report.

She entered the bathroom, pulling off her robe and unwrapping her arm. Her arm was still red but the ointment had done its job. The pain wasn’t bad at all. She pinned her hair up and got in the shower. The initial contact of the hot water on her arm stung but eventually faded.

She deserved a damn reprimand, for so many reasons this morning. But first she had to get dressed and get to work. She’d catch Ryan in his office, talk to him about what happened. She needed to tell him she understood. He hadn’t really hurt her. Okay, well he kind of had—her neck was red and her throat hurt. She’d have to remember in the future not to surprise him. They could get over this.

* * * *

Two hours later and Sophie had a headache from hell that promised to only grow worse.

“Ms. Hanson, I asked for that report to be ready at eight o’clock this morning. You’re aware it’s now eleven thirty?” Mr. Bent’s voice was low and so cold Sophie rubbed her arms against the chill in it.

She placed the report on his desk and stepped back. “I’m aware of that, Mr. Bent, and I apologize for being late. It wasn’t my intent—”

He held up a hand, cutting off her words. She stammered, but a single look from him shut her mouth. He walked over to his door and closed it, the sound ominous in the suddenly silent room.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Ms. Hanson. Do you think just because Mr. Locke is paying attention to you that you can be late for work and that the work I ask you to complete can wait?” Mr. Bent cocked an eyebrow at her.

She straightened.
What—the—hell?

“I don’t think anything, Mr. Bent. What exactly are you implying?” Her voice was clipped and she didn’t give a good damn.

“I’m not implying anything, Ms. Hanson.” He dropped the challenge and she took a mental step back to evaluate.

He obviously knew she’d been seeing Ryan. What was the motivation here? Sure, she’d been late this morning, but that wasn’t her fault. After all, it’d been his partner who’d attacked her in her own damn home. Sure, she’d startled a former spec ops soldier, but could a girl not get any leeway here? Of course, there was no way for Mr. Bent to know what had happened. Unless Ryan had told him?

She curbed her acidic retort and let the silence ride. He nodded, and his eyes wrinkled at the corner as if he’d smile, but his face remained impassive.

“Good girl. You keep that up, and you just might survive this,” he said as he turned to look out the window.

“Sir?” She was in an alternate reality again. The cryptic nature of this conversation was proof positive.

“Let’s not play games, Ms. Hanson. My best friend is obviously interested in you. When he’s not molesting you in the elevator, he’s hawking your every move here in the office. Now I know you’re a more than capable employee. Your reports and translation work are excellent. What I’m interested in at the moment is what you plan to do about Ryan’s interest in you?” He sat, cocked his head, and steepled his hands on the desk.

Anger shot through Sophie. Fierce and hot, its magnitude startled her. He had no right. What was between Sophie and Ryan was between them alone. He may be partners and best friends with Ryan, but he was nothing to Sophie.

“I can see by the emotions crossing your face I’ve pissed you off. And that’s okay. You have to be made of stern stuff to keep Ryan on his toes. And you’ll need that anger I see in you right now to deal with him on occasion. Stubborn man that he is, you’ll also need a boatload of whoop ass to keep him in line. So tell me: what are your intentions toward my partner?” A small smile creased his lips, and Sophie wanted to punch him in that too-pretty face of his.

How freaking dare he ask her these things? She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before her mouth took off and she couldn’t recover.
Tact, Sophie, use it.

“First of all, Mr. Bent, this is inappropriate. Secondly, I’m your employee and what, if anything, is going on between Mr. Locke and myself is no concern of yours. Third, if I had intentions toward Mr. Locke, I damn sure would not discuss them with you. And did I mention this is inappropriate?” She finished with a raised eyebrow of her own and a small huff.

He laughed. Threw back his head and laughed at her. Her hands clenched at her sides. She’d never wanted to hurt another human being the way she wanted to hurt him right now.

“Ms. Hanson, while you may see this as an inappropriate conversation, let me assure you, it is anything but. Ryan is a concern of mine and always will be. He’s my partner but more than that, he’s my brother. Not biologically, but in all the other ways that make people family. Ryan matters to me, therefore, your interest in him matters to me.” He leaned back in his chair and gestured for her to take a seat. He shrugged when she shook her head and continued, “We run a multimillion dollar business, Ms. Hanson. I’ll look out for my partner, friend, and brother in any way he seems unwilling to do himself.”

“Are you intimating that I would do something to harm Mr. Locke?” Disbelief rang in her tone. His audacity was pissing her right the hell off.

“I’m doing no such thing. What I’m doing is watching. This could be a touchy situation and while I know Ryan, I do not know you.”

“With all due respect, what is between your best friend and me is absolutely none of your business. It won’t ever be. In the future, you can keep your warnings and aspersions to yourself. As you said, you don’t know me.” With that, she turned toward the office door.

He was behind her before she could twist the knob.

“I have no thoughts on you one way or the other at this point. But let me make myself clear. If you hurt him or try to hurt this company in any way, I will personally see you pay for it. Are we understood?”

He was as tall as Ryan and she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

“Threat taken under advisement,” she said as she opened the door and left.

She stayed in her office for the rest of the day. Gigi was still out sick, and there was really no one she wanted to eat lunch with anyway. She had no idea if Ryan was in the office, but she stewed until almost six o’clock about the conversation with Hayden Bent. The nerve of the man! Though part of her praised his concern for his friend, another part was pissed that he obviously thought so little of her. To think she would ever do anything mercenary to another person, well, it made her angry enough to spit nails.

She finished some paperwork and grabbed her purse, determined to put that conversation out of her mind and see if Ryan was in still in the building.

Soft feminine laughter rang down the hall. The source seemed to be his office. His light was on.
Good, he’s in
. They could talk about this morning and get everything straight. Her steps sped up. She was eager to see him. Another soft laugh followed by a deep murmur sounded, and Sophie wondered who was in his office with him. The door was partly open, and she knocked, which forced it open wider. “Ryan—”

The sight that greeted her punched her in the gut, took her breath and sliced her heart. Ryan sat in his chair, and draped across his lap was none other than the redhead who’d almost caught them in the elevator a few days ago … Gloria something or other. Sophie thought this was the same woman he’d taken to the museum gala.

Shock held Sophie immobile. Gloria’s face was in his neck, her hands unbuttoning his shirt to run along the muscles of his chest. He murmured something to the woman and she giggled. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was mussed, but his face was blank. His gaze pinned Sophie to the spot, the blue depths of his eyes impenetrable. She must have made a sound because he flinched, closed his eyes, and then opened them. In them Sophie saw her breaking heart.

For just a second, something in his demeanor made Sophie think he’d set the woman aside and call out to her. But then the moment was over and with it any hope Sophie had that what she was seeing wasn’t true. His face blanked again, nothing in it to even connote he knew who the hell she was.

“Damn, Ryan, I love when you touch me.” Gloria moaned. Sophie’s gaze followed Ryan’s hands as they caressed the woman’s ass.

The pain was dizzying, a bitterly cold conflagration of hurt that stole her mind. The same hands that had caressed her this morning were now all over another woman. None of what they’d shared was real. It had all been a lie. Her soul cried as it broke into tiny pieces, and she realized she reached for him, but couldn’t stop the action.

How long she stood there she didn’t know. Eventually, the other woman’s sighs became a blade against her eardrums and Sophie turned, so overwhelmed she operated on autopilot.

She thought someone called her name, but she was at the elevator quickly and didn’t look back. Someone appeared just as the elevator doors closed, and she pressed the ground level button and waited. When the doors opened, she walked to the revolving door and exited.

“Good night, Ms. Hanson,” Chapman, the doorman, called merrily.

She didn’t respond, and he called her name again. She kept walking.

“Ms. Hanson, where are you going? Do you need me to call you a cab? Ms. Hanson, are you okay?” Chapman called her name. She looked back at him, watched his lips move, but couldn’t formulate an answer.

His look was puzzled as he walked toward her. She recognized all of this from a distance, but the desire to speak, act, or feel was gone. Ice encased her and instinctively she sought the frigid contact because the pain would be an inferno once she acknowledged it.

“Ms. Hanson, I’ll call you a cab, okay, ma’am? Here’s one now,” Chapman said as he handed her into the cab and stepped back, tipping his hat at her. His face was worried but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Where to, ma’am?” the cab driver asked.

“Grady Hospital,” she responded.

* * * *

She’d been sitting by her mother’s bed for hours. A new shift of nurses had come in and greeted her, offering her refreshment but finally leaving her alone. They probably wondered why she was here on a weekday, but they were polite enough to keep any questions to themselves. Maybe they’d taken pity on her. Surely her idiocy was written on her forehead?

The machines keeping her mother alive beeped and wheezed, chuffled and whined. Tubes ran down her throat, IVs littered her arms, and monitor leads covered her head and chest. She was only forty-two years old, entirely too young to be at death’s door. Yet death was knocking, and her mother was a victim of her own insatiable need for drugs and men. She’d had Sophie a month after she’d turned sixteen, Gavin a little less than a year later. It had been downhill from there. Life over before it’d even begun, Andromeda Hanson hadn’t ever had an opportunity to do anything more than survive. She found life in a dream world with the bite of a needle.