Sweet Seduction Sacrifice (13 page)

"I want you to trust me," he said in a firm voice. "Can you do that?"

"Trust you? I barely know you."

"Do I have to kiss you again? I would be happy to, but bear in mind things could escalate even further." He pressed his groin in closer briefly, leaving me in no doubt as to where his thoughts on escalation led.

"But..." I managed, before his lips were back against mine and all thought left my head.

Several seconds later he let me come up for air. He looked in pain, but a good type of pain, like he'd do it again and to hell with the consequences. I was right there with him. I couldn't say no to this man.

"Oh," I said softly, getting it finally.

"We can't walk away from this," he announced, recognising he'd made his point and got through. "But I'm asking you to trust me, can you try to do that?"

Could I? I didn't really know him, I'd met him only yesterday. But in that time he had taken my case on for no charge, we'd spent an amazing evening over dinner together and he'd come to rescue me from my crazy, gambling, delusional, dream-stealing, inheritance-stealing ex-boyfriend. For such a short amount of time he'd proven just what sort of man he was. Charitable, intelligent, gorgeous, entertaining, interested, bad-ass, killer lawyer, knight in shining armour, saviour. And let's not forget god-like.

I bit my bottom lip and looked at him,
really
looked at him. He was dishevelled now, in a lust-filled, just had a mad-passionate-kiss-on-the-couch kind of way.... and beautiful. It would be easy to think his beauty stole my ability to do the right thing. To be able to choose the right path. But he wasn't just beautiful, or gorgeous, or god-like, was he?

He was a dream I couldn't hope to possess.

"Trust me," he whispered, clearly seeing I was about to bolt.

"I don't know," I whispered back honestly.

"I won't let him take your dream." He leaned in and kissed my temple, in amongst my hair, softly.

It was that intimate and somehow completely familiar movement, coupled with his words, his promise, that made me collapse against him.

"You said nothing is guaranteed," I reminded him, sticking to my guns despite my weakening resolve.

"Trust me," he whispered again, this time in my hair as his arms had wrapped around me and my forehead was resting on his shoulder.

I took a deep breath in, thinking I was the worst kind of crazy, and nodded. He felt the movement and I felt his whole body relax against me, then the brief tightening of his arms about my shoulders, as though he'd just won a prize and he wasn't going to let go any time soon.

Oh dear God, what was I doing?

I ended up pressing charges. Although somewhat in a daze still from those kisses, it hadn't slipped my notice that I simply couldn't say no to this man. This was mildly alarming. But also, strangely liberating. I had fought Brett constantly the entire time we were together. He didn't come close to Dominic's strength of character, but he had been one of those men who tried to direct your life. I had rebelled, while accepting it. But with Dominic, it was as though all fight had left me. No, that wasn't true, it was as though I had no desire at all to fight this man. I relished his involvement, it excited me in a way I had never been excited before.

I watched him talking to Nick and Ben, Eric had already disappeared, while I sat giving my final statement to both Detective Stone and Detective Pierce. Both of them tag-teaming me in a way that kept my mind off my reaction to the events, and somehow kept me focused on simply retelling them without letting emotions get in the way. They were good, they'd obviously done it before. And because Dominic seemed to trust them, I did too. Which was surprising, considering Lofty had impersonated a police detective in his efforts to get inside my apartment. I didn't think I'd ever trust a police detective again. But here I was, answering their questions without hesitation, allowing them to buffer me from the emotions I was bound to experience at a later date.

Maybe it was simply a necessity, maybe they did it to speed things along without the hassle of being interrupted by my - possible - mental breakdown. They did have places to go, kidnappers to catch and all that. But whatever reason, I was appreciative. I wanted to get this part out of the way and then I wanted to soak in a bath for eternity and scrub my skin raw.

It's not like I felt dirty - well at least not the mental type of dirty, I
was
covered in blood and had been in the same clothes for over twenty-four hours - it was more the idea of soaking away my worries. Maybe lighting a scented candle or two, switching the stereo on and forgetting, for just a moment, that my world had turned upside down.

I was
so
angry at Brett. But the feeling I had inside was stronger than anger, I think calling it anger was a misnomer. I was irate, furious, raging. I didn't have time to feel shock, or depression, or fear over what had happened. I was full on livid. And right now I was clinging to that emotion by my fingertips, in a desperate effort to just get through the next hour and make it to my loft and run a bath.

Finally the rehash of the night's events was done, I signed the handwritten statement Pierce had written, ignoring his intense appraisal of me the entire time. The guy was starting to freak me out, he clearly was not a happy camper. Nice to know our boys in blue took kidnappings seriously, but it was as though he had a personal interest in this case. He seemed hell-bent on catching Brett, which was both impressive and a little disconcerting. I may have agreed to press charges on Greeny - whose actual name happened to be Paul Malcolm Green - but I hadn't yet aligned that with Brett. If Dominic asked me to press charges against him, I really wasn't sure if I could. Maybe it would be the one thing I could say no to him about. I didn't know.

What I did know was, despite telling Dominic that I trusted him and in effect shutting Brett down, I was still enormously worried about the threat Brett held over Sweet Seduction. To save my store, to save my dream, I would do
anything
.

The police detectives left, forensics moved in and under the pressure of a firm hand on my elbow from Dominic, I was led out of the sleazy motel we had been in. Another reminder that Brett had squandered all of his money as well as mine, if this was the sort of place he intended holing me up in while he sorted his shit out.

Dominic led me to a dark, steel grey Jaguar. I wasn't sure what model, but it was sleek, stylish and gorgeous - much like the man who drove it. He helped me into the passenger seat and even leaned over and buckled me securely in. I'd never had anyone do that since I was a child, and even then I don't think kids' car-seats existed. My Mum just shoved me in the rear and told me to sit still. He moved swiftly around to the driver's side and slid into the scooped seat with practised ease, then started the car. It purred like a kitten, but when he pulled out of the parking lot onto Great South Road, it roared like a tiger.

I was transfixed. Watching his thigh flexing under the soft fabric of his jeans, his hands, leading to muscular forearms, moulded around the polished walnut of the steering wheel. I took in his strong profile, the square jaw, a slight stubble on his chin he hadn't had yesterday. Clearly he'd not managed a shave this morning, I wondered if that was a weekend thing, take a break from the chores of civilised lawyer society. Merge a little with that killer lawyer persona only on days off.

He didn't say anything, if he knew I was watching him, he chose not to acknowledge it. I was kind of relieved about that, I
was
ogling the guy and had he pointed it out, I might have felt compelled to open my mouth. And we all know how that would have gone. Eventually, I'd catalogued his physique and general god-like image enough, so stared out the side of the window, taking in the overcast Auckland day.

I hadn't really registered we weren't heading towards the city, well we had been heading in that general direction, but we turned off Great South Road well before it made it to Newmarket - which is just outside the CBD where I live - and started heading in the general direction of the Eastern Bays.

"Where are we going?" I asked, suddenly wide awake and glancing around what looked like Long Drive, taking in my environment for the very first time since I'd entered the car.

"My home," he replied evenly.

"Why?" I demanded.

"You're staying with me until this is all over."

Ah. No. "That's ridiculous. I need to go home. I have things to do, accounts to complete. Banking to organise. I need to pop in to work and make sure everything is all right. Phone Kelly. Kelly will be expecting a phone call, she'll start to panic if I don't get in touch. Plus, I want to take a bath, light some candles, put on some Barry White."

"Barry White?" Dominic interrupted my ramblings.

"Yes, Barry White. He's my soak-in-the-tub music. He soothes the soul and makes everything OK. I need Barry White."

"I can download Barry White. I have a bath also. I'd be happy to run one for you." He flicked a glance at me, there was something in his eyes on that last sentence, something that did wonderful things to my insides, making all thoughts of Barry White completely disappear.

"I bathe alone," I pointed out. He grinned.

"I could change your mind on that." I bet he could. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Dominic. I need to go home."

It must have been the way I said it, because the car slowed and his head turned back to me, holding my gaze for several seconds, threatening to make me yell at him to watch the road. He flicked his gaze back to the street, thankfully, and then clenched his jaw. I was beginning to understand the jaw clench. It appeared when killer lawyer was about to escape his chains, but also when he was determined about something. And even though I hadn't known him long, I knew that
something
would not be what I wanted to hear.

"Sweetheart," he began. I clenched
my
jaw, but he didn't notice, too busy watching the road - now at least. "It's too dangerous to be at your place. Not only could Elliott attempt another kidnapping, there has been murmurings on the street... about you." That made me suck in a breath in unwanted surprise. Dominic went on in a soft, almost soothing, voice. "Those who seek retribution on Elliott are looking for you now too."

"How do you know this?" I asked, my throat tight with the thought that he was telling the truth. But he couldn't be, things like this didn't happen to a Kiwi girl like me. They simply didn't.

"Nick has contacts, he's put the word out to listen for mention of you. Several hits came back last night. One of which alerted us to your situation."

That's how they found out I had been kidnapped. Obviously Brett had been wrong, my place hadn't been under surveillance. And Dominic hadn't come back to the loft to see me and found me gone - which my dazzled brain had been contemplating as a good explanation - he'd been notified by his brother instead. I wondered if it had interrupted whatever he was trying to sort out from that phone call before he left. I wondered why that worried me.

"For the time being, you'll stay with me, where I can protect you."

I sat motionless in the seat of his car, as he negotiated a turning vehicle before us and then some time later turned into a driveway in the shadow of a tall white box of a building. Too big to be one residence, but I knew instantly that it was. An enormous slatted white sliding garage door moved when he pressed a button on his visor, and slid sideways - quite different from most garage doors that flick up and away - revealing a huge expanse of darkness within. The moment the Jag crossed the threshold of the garage, lights flicked on and an array of expensive and exotic looking cars filled my vision through the windshield.

I'm not much of a car aficionado, but even I could tell the red one was a Ferrari, the silver one an Aston Martin, and the British racing green one; a vintage MG. The rest were just a blur of colour and sleekness and sexy lines. The only one that looked remotely like something I could picture myself driving was a large black SUV, a Jeep Cherokee - no that wasn't true, I could picture myself in the Aston Martin, I could picture myself quite well, actually - which looked out of place with all the European cars lined up against both sides of the walls.

I let a breath of air out as Dominic parked the Jag in the only space left available and switched the purr of the engine off. He slipped out of the car without a word. I followed suit, determined to get out under my own steam and not have him reach in and unbuckle me like some frail, delicate flower. He rounded my side of the car and took hold of my elbow again, propelling me gently but determinedly towards the internal door to the house. The garage door had closed as soon as we crossed into the inner sanctum of his car museum.

We went up two flights of stairs, emerging into a grand open space, white marble floors, with the odd white loop pile rug here and there. Huge white leather couches, side tables, entertainment unit and hall stand. Colour carefully dotted around the place in the form of green leafy palms, rich dark red rounded glass hanging lamp shades from the ceiling, a few contrasting red throw pillows on the couches. A modernist looking piece of artwork, splashes of different shades of red, which took the entirety of one whole wall. And the skyline of Auckland city from full height windows across the front of the lounge.