“You said you’re the driver, right?” asks Jesse, pulling a set of keys free and twirling them. My keys. How the hell… “Catch,” he says, tossing the keys in a high arc to George.
George’s eyes follow the keys up, and Jesse takes a quick step in, spinning George around in a complicated maneuver. In a split second, Jesse has George from behind, forearm pressing into George’s neck. Jesse reaches up casually and catches the keys he tossed, and then lowers George to the ground as George’s reddening face goes slack and he loses consciousness.
“You can’t--” I start.
“He’s just taking a nap. Thirty minutes or so and he’ll be up and good to go.”
I fold my arms. “No. I’m not going with you. You can’t just do that and expect me to walk away with you. Where’s the other one?”
I suck in a breath, ready to call for Rafal, but Jesse steps closer to me, planting a hand on the wall behind me so he has me pinned in, unable to escape. Fear and attraction swirl in my chest, competing.
“You will come with me. I can carry you out over my shoulder, kicking and screaming, or you can leave with some dignity. Your choice.”
“You’re a fucking asshole,” I say.
“You don’t have to like me. You just have to do what I say. Do you understand?”
I want to fight it, to run, to scream, or to make a scene, if for no other reason than to teach him he can’t talk to me like that. But the only one that would hurt is me. Someone would snap a picture on their phone and it would end up plastered all over the tabloids by tomorrow morning. I’d have to deal with Frank’s disappointment and questions from the paparazzi.
I follow him through the lobby, feeling pissed off and helpless. He makes me sit in the passenger seat and gets behind the wheel. I fold my arms under my breasts, looking out the window. It annoys me that I can still see the ghost of his reflection as he drives, looking stony and handsome. A wave of nostalgia rips through me, but it only brings sadness, because this isn’t the boy I loved in high school. Jesse is someone else now, something else. Whatever happened to him in the years we’ve been apart changed him.
He drives us past the road to my apartment, showing no sign of slowing down. “You just passed my--”
“We’re staying at my place tonight. It’s safer.”
“No way. All my things are at my apartment. I can’t just stay at your place without notice.” I frown, voice growing hard. “I won’t. Take me to my apartment.”
“No,” he says simply.
In a moment of desperation, I reach to grab the door handle, even though we both know I wouldn’t actually jump out of the car, but he casually flicks the child-protection locks and prevents me from even unlocking my own door. How fucking appropriate. He is controlling me as easily as you might control a child. Well fuck him. I’ll wait until he lets his guard down and get him back for this. Somehow.
I resume looking out the window and say nothing for the rest of the drive. His apartment building is modern and obviously expensive. He parks in a valet spot and tries to help me from the car, but I stand on my own, ignoring the hand he extends to me. I hate the way he just smirks at my rudeness, like he doesn’t think it’s real, like he thinks this is a game. It just makes me want to get him back even more, to get him back harder.
God, he’s turning me into a spiteful child. I know he is, but I can’t help it. I’ve spent so long rebuilding my life after him. As stupid as it was, by the time we had been dating a year, I was already planning my life around him. I only applied to the colleges I knew he’d want to play football for. I spent all my free time studying so I would have the grades to get into those schools. I thought we would get married and have kids. I let my social life fall to pieces around us because I knew he was the one. I knew it so absolutely that at some point, the idea of us breaking up stopped being a possibility.
Then it happened. He showed me I never really knew him at all, and he broke my heart. At first I was just devastatingly sad. I thought maybe I had done something to deserve it, or I could have been a better girlfriend. After that, I thought maybe I had just misunderstood, that he really was planning to come back to me after he finished his overseas tour. Eventually though, all I felt was anger. It wasn’t the kind of anger that makes me want to throw things or yell. It was a slow-burning, smoldering anger that settled in my stomach and never quite left, touching every emotion I felt since with just the smallest hint of bitter heat. He marked me, and I hated him for it.
I look at him now and wish he had let himself go in the years since we were together. It would be easier to forget the past if he was a shell of his former self, unsure, remorseful, and broken. Instead, he looks more put together than he ever was. He’s frustratingly competent, unbelievably fit, and even more gorgeous than I remember. My traitorous body can attest to the last. Just being near him makes my heart pound, even if I want to hurt him as much as I want to kiss him. The only flaw is the glint of pain in his eyes that surfaces at random, in the moments when he’s quiet and doesn’t think I’m looking.
He jogs up the stairs to the building, glancing behind to make sure I’m following. I try really, really hard not to look at the way his slacks pull against his tight ass and hugs those long, lean legs of his. I mostly succeed, and I’m grateful when I’m no longer slightly beneath him so that his jacket covers most of his ass again.
I raise my eyebrows at the luxurious lobby of his apartment building. It’s all sleek, polished wood and dark reds, luxurious and sexy. Just the kind of place I would imagine a man like Jesse living. There are several large rooms set off from the main lobby. I can see workout equipment beyond one door, elegant cursive lettering labeling a spa in another area, and a strange windowed area with what must be artificial grass and even hills. A small swarm of dogs runs by my view and I smile a little. Really? He lives in an apartment with an indoor dog park?
To my surprise, he heads straight for the dog area. When he opens the door, a young blonde girl gives me an appraising look and doesn’t bother hiding her jealousy. She must think I’m with him. I don’t know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. She can have him for all I care. He’d probably love to fuck some young pretty thing like her. He probably already has…
I’m annoyed when the thought makes my stomach turn a little. It’s not jealousy, it’s just… disappointment. The Jesse I knew wouldn’t do things like that, but this new man might. I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore, and that scares me.
The girl turns her head, not letting her eyes move far from Jesse. “Makayla! Come here, sweetie!” she calls.
I feel a jolt of confusion. It’s only when I look to Jesse and see the way his cheeks are actually flushing with red that I realize. He named his fucking dog after me.
I give him an incredulous look, but he only shrugs. “She came with the name,” he says with uncharacteristic quickness. “Got her from a shelter.”