Walking slowly and carefully, I paused at the door to Daniella’s room on my way. Everything I’d seen in this room that night came rushing back. Her naked body shaking with need. The red welts painted across her skin. The primal look in Nolan’s eyes.
Blinking away the memory, I realized that her room was devoid of all personal effects. The dresser and desk were bare; the mattress had been stripped. The closet doors were open, and only a few empty hangers remained.
I heard his footsteps behind me and turned to face him, confused.
“What’s going on here?” The place was deserted, as if her intrusion into my life had never happened at all. But of course, my heart still knew it did. “Where’s Daniella?” I asked.
“You owe me some answers before we discuss anything.” His voice was a rough growl and his fists were still clenched at his sides. He looked broken and sad like I’d never seen him. Fear tightened in my gut, even worse than when that man first grabbed me.
Nolan was right, of course. I owed him the truth. Not to mention the world’s biggest apology.
Tears spilled from my eyes. I couldn’t control them any more than I could control the rush of words falling from my mouth.
“When I met you that night, I acted like it was all by chance. A single twenty-something woman new in town and enjoying a drink at the local bar. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.”
I hung my head, my eyes trained on the floor at his feet as I spoke. “Everything about running into you that night had been calculated. I already knew I could rely on you, because my father had told me some of the moments that had defined your life . . . private, painful things. But you didn’t know anything about me. That’s what made my plan perfect. It would never have worked if you’d recognized me. You just would’ve sent me back to Oklahoma City, or worse, called my father.”
“This wasn’t some fucking game, Lacey. Your life was in danger.” The low growl vibrating in his throat sent my pulse skittering.
“Of course it wasn’t a game. It was my life, my freedom. We all have things in our past we’re not proud of. Maybe I was too bull-headed; maybe it was foolish to think I could outrun my mistakes. But you don’t know what my life was like before. My father can be . . .” Tears slipped from my eyes, and I took a moment to compose myself.
My only form of rebellion had been dating Troy. When I’d discovered he was running a high-profile executive drug ring, I’d dumped him and moved out. But then two of his “friends” raided my new apartment, looking for the money he owed them—or anything they could pawn to make up the difference. My ex was in some big trouble that wasn’t likely to blow over anytime soon.
But since Dad had never approved of him anyway, I wasn’t about to go running to him for help. What I needed was a do-over, far away from Oklahoma City, and a good guy on my side, especially when I heard on the news that Troy had been found dead. And according to Dad’s stories, there was no better man than Nolan.
I told him everything, starting with the night we’d first met at the bar. God, I’d been so scared, so sure he’d see right through me. Every detail of our time together rushed back with resounding clarity.
“I might have come here for a calculated reason,” I finished, “but trust me when I say . . . that changed. The way I feel about you is real.”
His face, his kiss, his generous soul, even his maimed heart—everything about Nolan made my skin tingle and my heart race. None of that had been fake.
He gave a disparaging grunt. “How do I know you’re telling the truth right now?”
But he was still listening, so I kept rattling on. “I figured that if I could befriend you, win your trust, I could call on you in case my trouble followed me to Texas. I knew your instincts and training would kick in. You wouldn’t let anything happen to the vulnerable single woman you’d befriended.”
He grunted, acknowledging that was probably true.
“I’m sorry . . . so sorry, for everything.” I sobbed, repeating the words over and over again.
Nolan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, listening, watching me.
“Go shower,” he finally said. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
He was right; I was exhausted, even if the clock on the wall only read eight o’clock. But as badly as I wanted sleep, I needed to know where I stood with him. Where we stood.
“Why didn’t you ever sleep with me?” I wiped the tears from my cheeks, my eyes pleading with his for answers of my own.
Confusion drew a line between his dark brows. “What do you mean?”
“Daniella said that if you hadn’t slept with me yet, it meant you had real feelings for me.” Please, God, let it be true.
“Daniella doesn’t . . . ,” he started to argue, then stopped. His teeth sank into his lower lip and his tortured gaze met mine. “It never seemed right. You weren’t the kind of girl I was used to. I couldn’t imagine using you that way . . . holding you down . . . fucking you hard until you screamed. Is that what you wanted?”