After a long moment, he continues, his voice lower.
“You went to the bathroom and didn’t return. I became suspicious, so I had Emiliano check all the camera’s views. One of them showed Dylan dragging you through the parking lot to his car. I stopped him and brought you back into the restaurant. I called a doctor, then called Chelsea into the office. When the doctor arrived, they examined you, took your vitals, and determined you were stable and whatever had been given to you would be metabolized by your system within hours. We decided to bring you home and watch you here. Which is what we’ve been doing until now.”
I know my mouth is open. I know my heart is still beating because it hurts. That’s pretty much all the knowledge I have, so I sit gaping at Cole until the blood that drained out of my head starts to creep back into it, and I can speak again.
“You…you’ve been obsessing over me?”
“Yes.”
I love that he doesn’t look away, flinch, or deny it. I know he doesn’t want to admit it, but he does anyway, and that gives me the courage to continue.
“And…you followed me.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me.”
“Yes.”
My throat closes. My chest gets tight. My eyes begin to water, and it’s hard to speak because I’m so emotional. “Dylan drugged me. He was taking me to his car, but you stopped him.”
“Yes.”
“So…basically…you saved me. You saved me, Cole. That’s what you’re saying.”
He hangs his head, exhales, and drags his hands through his hair. Looking at the floor he says, “I’m not a hero.”
“If you hadn’t been there watching me, what would’ve happened?”
He lifts his head and gazes at me with dark eyes but remains silent.
“Dylan didn’t drug me and try to get me into his car so he could take me on a sightseeing drive.”
“I’m not a hero.”
“Stop saying that. You are.”
He leaps to his feet and starts to pace at the end of my bed, hands on his hips, jaw clenched, eyes flashing. I watch him for a moment, wondering why he’s so agitated.
“You said you ‘stopped’ Dylan. What does that mean?”
“I shoved him.”
I take in his raw knuckles, his wrinkled slacks, the stains on his shirt. “You shoved him.”
“Yes.”
“Into a hole you dug?”
He stops pacing and looks at me but doesn’t answer. His blue eyes are fathomless.
“Cole?”
“Yes?”
“What happened to Dylan?”
After a moment of hesitation, he speaks. His voice is deadly soft.
“He was fired.”
We stare at each other across the room. I think of Chelsea, how she looked at me when I woke up. The darkness in her eyes. The resolution, like we’d passed a milestone we couldn’t go back from.
I remember how Cole touched her shoulder when she left. The glance that passed between them like they a shared a secret.
And I understand that being fired by Cole is on a whole other level than his human resources department can handle.
I wait for shock or fear to come, or any negative emotion at all, but the only thing I feel is a twinge of relief that I won’t have to deal with that sleazebag Dylan anymore.
One door closes, another opens, and now Cole and I are on different ground than we were before.
Shared ground.
Strangely, it feels as if I’ve finally found my footing.
I say quietly, “They’ll find out. The police. Whatever you did, they’ll find out.”
He mistakes my meaning. Moistening his lips, he looks away. His voice turns gruff. “You want to talk to them. I understand.”
“No, listen to me. I don’t care about Dylan, I care about you.”
He snaps his head around and stares at me in crackling silence, his eyes ablaze.
“Those security cameras will have recorded you coming and going from the restaurant. Him too. If he’s missing, it’s only a matter of time before the police start tracing his steps, asking people where he went, getting footage from traffic cameras… Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You don’t care about Dylan?” He says it slowly, like he can’t quite believe it, his mouth moving over the words as if they’re from a foreign language.
“The only thing I care about is that you’re okay.”
Our held gazes are an invisible chain of molten fire between us, heating the air, burning with urgency. I want to leap out of bed and run to him, but I don’t have the strength.
“You’re not thinking straight.”
“I am. I knew that guy was wrong from the second I met him. A predator. And we both know I’m not the first girl he tried that with. As far as I’m concerned, good riddance.”
Cole stares at me, dark brows drawn together, eyes piercing, every inch of him taut.
“If you’re about to say I’m not thinking straight again, you’ll regret it.”
In contrast to his feral energy, his voice is soft and stroking. “I wasn’t about to say that.”
“Good. Did Chelsea tell you about her little sister, Ashley?”
“She did.”
“And are you and Chelsea friends now? Because I need you to be.”
“Why?”
“My bestie has to like my boyfriend.”
He closes his eyes, exhales, and shakes his head. “We can’t have a relationship, Shay.”
“You just admitted you’re obsessed with me. Personally, I think that’s a fantastic baseline to start a relationship with.”
He opens his eyes and scowls. “It’s not. It’s unhealthy. And you’re conveniently leaving out all the other things that aren’t so fantastic.”
“Like that you did something to protect me?”
“Most people would consider that ‘something’ immoral. Not to mention illegal.”
“I’m not most people. Are you going to come over here and kiss me or not?”
“No.”
I lie back down, close my eyes, and sigh. “Probably not a good idea anyway. My breath is disgusting.”
When the silence continues on too long, I sneak a peek at him. He’s standing in the same spot, staring at me with a mixture of disbelief and confusion on his face.
“What?”
“It’s just…” He shakes his head. “You and your girlfriend Chelsea are two of a kind.”
“You haven’t even seen us in action yet.” I close my eyes again.
After another long moment, the mattress dips on my right side. A strong hand tenderly smooths my hair.
He orders, “Stop smiling.”
“I can’t help it.”
“We’re not going to have a relationship, Shay.”
“I don’t care how sternly you try to say that, it still sounds like BS.”
“It’s not BS.”
“Oh, come on. You’re obsessed with me. How long do you think you can hold out before you’re sending me diamonds and roses and writing me love songs?”
He makes a small huff of amusement. “Are you always this…”
“Charming? Adorable? Irresistible? Yes.”
“I was going to say stubborn.”
“Oh. Yeah, pretty much. You should also know that I’m incredibly impatient. It’s one of my biggest personality flaws. That and I can be moody. Especially around my period. I’m only telling you that so you’ll be prepared.”
His fingertips trace my hairline, my cheekbone, my jaw. His touch is so gentle, I shiver.
“I can’t do relationships, Shay. My life is too…”
When he’s silent too long, I prompt, “Messy?”
“Dangerous.”
I open my eyes and look at him. Gazing down at me, his eyes full of emotion, he’s so goddamn handsome, it’s dumb. And the way he looks at me makes my heart start to thud.
“How is your life dangerous?”
“It just is.”
“You won’t tell me?”
“I can’t. It would put you at risk.”
“Risk of what?”
He doesn’t answer. He simply watches the path his fingertips take as they trace my eyebrow then follow the curve of my ear.
“The night we met, you said you’d just gotten out of a relationship.”
“That was different.”
“So you can have one, just not with me.”
“It’s company policy.”
“Your family owns the fucking company.”
“Which is why it’s even more important that we honor the rules.”
“Are you kidding me right now? You know half the people in that building are banging each other.”
“Still. It’s company policy.”