What the Heart Needs (31 page)

“You don’t have to buy me things. I’m not after you for your money. I’m not… Dan,” she said and immediately wished she could suck the words back in. A quick flash of hurt crossed his face and she wanted to kiss it away. She hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t even actually felt present enough to notice how nice of a gesture it was. How it was the first piece of jewelry a man had ever given her. That it probably meant something coming from Elliott.

Elliott’s face quickly went guarded. “Right. So you’re just after me for the sex then,” he said and she felt the words like a slap in the face.

Slut. Whore.

“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he said, turning away from her, walking back to his desk, pouring a fresh drink and drinking it in one swig.

Hannah stood dumbly for a second, every ounce of her wishing she could go after him. But every inch of him was erect, on edge. She couldn’t even think of the right words to say. Confrontation was never something she was comfortable with. She silently went out the door, to her car, and drove to a hotel.

She locked the door, dropped her bag and fell into the bed, sobbing like a child. Uncontrollable, uninhibited. Gasping, ugly sobbing.

Her phone chimed announcing a text message a long while later and she grabbed for it desperately, praying to see Elliott’s name pop up.

Xander Rhodes: 8:11 PM: Try not to stress too much. I’ll find the bitch.

Seventeen

Hannah woke up early in the morning, her eyes swollen, her cheeks burned red from tears. She skipped a shower and dressed methodically. She had only one thought in her mind as she checked out of the hotel and drove to work. She was going to fix it. She had no choice. She had to find a way to apologize. Offer some kind of excuse for her behavior. Make things right.

He had been trying.

And she had shoved it in his face.

Tad followed her into her office when she didn’t respond to his greeting. “Whoa crying hangover, much?”

Hannah shrugged, “Bad night.”

Tad’s brow quirked up. “You got a diamond out of it. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Hannah’s hand went to the diamond automatically, cool to her touch.

“The psycho broke into my house again. Drew a picture of me dead on my living room wall. I was in a mood and I said something awful to him and now he’s pissed.”

Tad sighed, reaching for her hand and rubbing it between his.

“Hannah,” Sally’s voice called from the lobby, making her jump. “There is someone here to see you.”

Hannah felt an irrational fear rise up her throat as if this person could be her stalker. She shook her head and opened the door to find Xander standing there. Dark and looming, looking completely out of place.

“Well hello,” Tad said seductively and Xander laughed. “I know I know. You’re straight but… hello.”

“Tad this is Xander Rhodes. My private investigator.”

“Right,” Tad said, all seriousness. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“You look like hell,” Xander commented, his words matter-of-fact.

“Gee thanks,” she said back.

“Anyway,” he said, leaning close and pulling out a folder. Inside were copies of some of her emails with Xander’s small, quick print all over. “I looked into the address on these. There’s nothing real there. They called themselves Jane Doe and gave an address to a abandoned print shop. I pulled some prints off the actual letters. I have a buddy at the station running them for me as a favor. Hopefully that turns up something but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, dropping her voice to a whisper at the sound of Elliott coming into his office. She stood up straighter, her heart beating fast.

Xander’s voice dropped to match hers. Leaning closer he said, “I would suggest talking to EM and getting a list of exes. People he thinks might be holding a grudge.”

“No,” Hannah said, looking up at him, her eyes pleading. “He doesn’t know. That’s not an option.”

Xander’s brows rose, surprised. But he nodded. And then his eyes shot up toward the doorway and he cleared his throat loudly enough for only Hannah to hear.

Hannah’s head jumped and found Elliott standing in the doorway, his face angry and then guarded again. Xander sensed the tension, moving away from Hannah and reaching for the door. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, half way out the door.

“Elliott…” Hannah said, her voice a whisper.

Elliott felt his anger racing through his veins. He didn’t know what the hell was going on. First she was weird when she came to his house and then she snapped that line about Dan. And now there was some strange man in her office whispering to her. He felt possessiveness and jealousy mix with his hurt feelings from the night before.

He held up a hand at her, shaking his head.

And then he left.

Hannah felt her heart sinking in her chest. Realizing finally how much she was starting to care for Elliott. She sank into her office chair, her head in her hands, feeling tears well up again.

Tad found herself there at the end of the day, looking distraught and lost.

“I need to fix it,” she said to him, begging for help.

Tad forced a smile. “Well you lucked out. You happen to be good friends with someone who knows about men. Intimately.”

Hannah screwed up her face and almost laughed. “Oh mighty guru. Tell me what to do.”

Hannah found herself at Elliott’s door a few hours later. Shivering. Tad had talked her into suprising Elliott with sex. It sounded counter-productive to her but Tad had assured her that the time to apologize would be after sex. He was more likely to have his guards down then. And judging by how stand-offish Elliott had been all day- she was willing to accept that was true. There was no other way she could break through that wall.

She rang the doorbell, feeling like every neighbor knew what she was doing.

A moment later, the door swung open and Elliott’s face looking surprised.

Hannah felt her nerves reach a peak and took a deep breath, untying the sash to her tan trench coat and letting the front fall completely open.

Underneath she wore nothing but the necklace Elliott had given her.

Elliott’s breath hissed out as his eyes raked her up and down. Her hand landed on his chest, pushing him into the house and closing the door. She slipped the coat from her shoulders and reached for the front of Elliott’s shirt, taking the buttons quickly as she looked up at him.

His arms slipped out of his shirt and his hands went to her breasts, warm on her cool flesh. He pulled at her nipples roughly, pinching their peaks. Hannah winced at the feeling, reaching between them to undo his pants and tug them from his hips. They fell to the ground, his cock springing out, hard and thick and straining toward her.

His fingers pinched harder and she let out a whimper. She brushed his hands away, going to her knees in front of him. She reached out tentatively, stroking his length before taking the hard tip into her mouth. Elliott’s hand came down on top of her head as she took more of him into her. His hand pushed her face forward, making her take him to the back of her throat.

Hannah coughed, sucking hard as her mouth slid away. She stood up to face him. His eyes were hooded with desire. But, she noted, his face seemed impassive, detached. He reached between her legs, stroking her heat for a short minute before grabbing her and pushing her against the wall.

Hannah felt her own desire stroke higher. She felt a distance between them but her body betrayed her and she was wet with need of him. She looked up into his eyes, but Elliott quickly looked away. He grabbed her hips and turned her around to face the wall. He spread her thighs apart with his knee and she felt his hardness against her ass. His hand reached between them and in one hard, almost painful thrust, he penetrated her fully.

A moan came out of her harshly, her fist slamming against the wall. Elliott’s hands went to her hips, grabbing roughly. He was still for a second, his fingers digging into her flesh. She felt his cock twitch inside her once before he withdrew and slammed into her again. And again. He pushed a hard and fast pace, his cock pounding into her again and again making her legs tremble.

An orgasm ripped through her quickly, having her sagging against the wall as he pushed inside her three more times and came, his fingers grabbing her hair and pulling her backward, her back arching as her scalp stung.

He withdrew from her almost immediately and she had to flatten her hands on the wall to keep upright. She turned a second later, but found that Elliott was gone. His clothes were still strewn over the floor but he was nowhere in sight.

Hannah felt something sharp in her chest, a pinprick growing and spreading outward. Hurt. The aching, crushing feeling had her wrapping her arms around herself for a moment, stunned by its intensity.

They had had quick, rough sex before. But it had never been quite so mechanical, so cold and distant. And it had never left her feeling so hollow and used.

Hannah felt the tears rising and stooped to grab her coat. She threw it on and tied the sash quickly.

So he was angry with her. It didn’t give him a right to treat her like some prostitute he could just walk away from after screwing. And she wouldn’t let him see her cry over being treated as such.

--

Elliott paced the bathroom, looking much like a lion in too small a cage- full of furious energy. He was cursing himself, words he would never utter aloud about another living soul. But himself. His stupid, idiotic self.

She was clearly trying to apologize. She being every bit as awful at communication as him, she meant to do it physically. It was an act he should have accepted. And instead he punished her. Treated her cooly and abandoned her afterward. Because his own feelings had been hurt from the night before.

He had seen something was wrong when she had come in but he had been too impatient to show her his gift that he hadn’t even acknowledged it. And then she said the one thing he didn’t want to hear from her. He had already phoned Dan’s lawyers that afternoon and informed them that he was going to give in to her monetary demands. Just to get her out of his life. For Hannah. And she threw Dan in his face.

Like he had been a great fool for falling into Dan’s greedy claws.

Like he didn’t know just what a prize Hannah was.

But he did. When James had finally gotten the words out of him, he realized how much he wanted to be with her. How he liked her spunk. How she became haughty, almost pretentious when she was riled. How she showed affection with touch. How she was tough and delicate all at once. How she could put him in his place with just a raised eyebrow.

And then he went and pushed her away because his pride was hurt.

Elliott slammed his fist down on the marble countertop, pulled the door open, and stode quickly back into the hallway. To find nothing but his clothes there.

He could picture her there afterward, hurt and confused, while he ran off like a child. What must she have thought of him?

Eighteen

Hannah stormed up the stairwell toward her apartment, too embarrassed to show up at a hotel crying and half-naked. She unlocked the doors and locked all the locks behind her. She flicked the light on, fleetingly sure that she had left them on the last time she left. She shrugged it off, blaming her mood.

But she systematically went through the house, checking behind furniture and inside closets with the biggest frying pan she owned in her hand and a cell phone in the other. Finding nothing, she put the tea kettle on and walked into the bathroom.

She took a shower, the water hot enough to turn her skin red, until she heard the screaming of the kettle. She threw on an old pajama set with pictures of candy all over it and walked into the kitchen.

The pain had subsided to a constant, dull ache in her chest. Inwardly she started taking some of the blame. Had she been open and honest with Elliott, she knew most of the events of the past two days could have been avoided had she told him what was going on. She could imagine telling him, his face opening up in shock then snapping shut in anger. Would he have insisted on going to the police? Get his own investigator? Would he insist she stay by his side until it was all straightened out?

Hannah reached for an old box of chamomile tea knowing she would have to cringe her way through drinking it but hoping it would help settle her nerves. She heard a creaking. The kind of sound an older building made. Settling, her father would call it. But Hannah felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she turned slowly.

Her teacup fell from her hand, falling to the floor in what seemed like slow motion. The delicate china splintered in every direction and the hot yellowish liquid spread across the cheap linoleoum.

Because right there in her kitchen was someone dressed head to toe in black. A ski mask revealing only the tiniest sliver of skin and eyes.

Hannah felt like she stood there frozen for hours when only seconds passed. Her intruder staring at her, unmoving. Hannah snapped out of it, reaching for the frying pan she had put down. But she found it out of reach and before she could even take a step, the person in black was right in front of her, reaching out, grabbing her arm.

Then it was like everything switched into fast-forward, her body having a mind of its own when the only thought she could process was how scared she was. The blood she could suddenly feel racing through the veins in her arms, the heart hammering in her chest, the sick feeling in her belly.

Her body twisted, wrenching free of the vice-like grip on her arm. But then hands were reaching out, grabbing at her shoulders. One landed in her hair and pulled savagely, making her knees buckle from beneath her. Her knees hit the floor with a shooting pain that radiated both up and down. But the hand released her and she scrambled on all fours toward the living room, shards from her shattered teacup slipping into the skin of her palms. Small porcelain splinteres.