by S. J. Tilly
“That’s strangely brilliant.” I admit, a little in awe.
Vincent shrugs. “It was the best idea we had. After that, I moved to the apartment in the city with round-the-clock security. And when I enrolled Annie into a new school, I did it with the last name Mazz. I know it’s not enough to stop him, but I couldn’t just put her back out there without doing something.”
My heart drops. “And now I’m trying to take her public. Oh god, Vincent. I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s the right call. It was only a matter of time. You were right on that. And I can’t force Annie to live her whole life in hiding. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s growing up. Before I know it, she’ll be wanting to date and drive a car. She’s already trying to get on every goddamn social media platform. Nothing short of committing multiple felonies will keep her hidden anymore.”
I almost laugh at the terrified look on his face. Heaven help whoever tries to date this man’s daughter. “You’re a good father, Vincent. She knows that you love her. That’s the most important thing you can give her. She trusts you, and she’ll come to you when she needs to.”
Vincent’s eyes show so much worry. So much turmoil. “Some days I feel like I know all the answers. And some days I feel like I’m fucking it all up.”
I stand and round the desk.
At my approach, he pushes back from his desk. Vincent knows what I’m about to do and welcomes me with literal arms open.
Settling myself onto his lap, I twist enough so I can wrap my arms around his neck in a hug.
Every interaction I have with Vincent has its own distinct feel. The lust-driven. The anger. The apology. The uncertainty. And now, comfort. With our arms around each other, we melt into the embrace. Vincent didn’t have to tell me about Renee. About Randal. About his fears of failure. But he did. And that shows a level of trust that I wasn’t expecting from him. It doesn’t make everything perfect between us. And even with my forgiveness of his previous dickish behavior, it doesn’t lay out any expectations for what our relationship is going to look like. I don’t even know if what we have can be called a relationship.
Vincent loosens his hold on me and leans back. His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to find the right words to tell me. But I don’t want to hear them. Not now. Not when I don’t know what the outcome of his statement might be. So instead of listening, I lean in and press my lips to his.
As soon as our mouths meet, I feel a warmth spread throughout my body. This might be the first time I’ve initiated a kiss with Vincent. And I like the powerful feeling it gives me. From my perch on his lap, we’re eye to eye. Mouth to mouth.
I lean into the contact and a sound of contentment rolls around in my chest.
Not one to give up control easily, Vincent opens his mouth, invading mine with a sweep of his tongue. His beard scratching the soft skin around my lips, heightening my senses.
Vincent breaks the kiss, moving his attention to my neck. Tipping my head back, I allow him free reign. When his tongue licks my cleavage, I clench my hands into fist. Only then do I realize that my hands are gripping his hair. I almost let go before I remember this is Vincent. He likes it a little rough. So I pull on his hair again. A little harder. The feel of his tongue on my chest turns into scraping teeth. And his hands hold my hips still as he grinds up against my ass. His hardness is so close to where I want him. I groan and wiggle against his erection.
A knock at the door startles me out of my lustful haze. I try to pull back, but Vincent wraps his arms around my waist keeping me in place.
A glint in Vincent’s eyes tells me exactly what he’s going to do before he does it.
“Come in.” Vincent calls out in his serious business tone.
My head jerks over and I watch the door click open. Brent makes it one step into Vincent’s office before he raises his gaze and sees us.
Brent stops so suddenly, he almost trips. “Oh, um, uh, sorry.” His eyes are darting all over the place, but I don’t miss how they linger on our entangled bodies. “I thought you said to come in.”
“I did.” Vincent replies as though I’m not sitting on his lap, his hard-on still prodding me between my butt cheeks.
“Oh, well…” Brent clears his throat, a blush clear on his face. “Your next meeting is in 5. They’re all set up in conference room B when you’re ready.”
“I’ll be there.”
Brent spins on his heels and hurriedly shuts the door behind him.
“You are such a jerk.” I say, humor in my voice, as I smack Vincent’s chest.
The smirk he gives me is too adorable to ignore. Leaning forward I kiss him once more. A simple press of my lips to his. When I pull away, I watch his smirk turn into a full-blown smile. Rolling my eyes, I push off his lap.
Standing back, I take in Vincent’s ruffled look. He looks freshly fucked.
“What?” He asks, pulling his suit jacket back on.
I shake my head. “You should sell calendars. Looking all sexed up like that, you could make another million.”
“Why Miss Clark, are you saying that you find me attractive?” He asks, reaching out for me.
I smack his hands away as I go up on my tiptoes to help him smooth out his hair. “Oh, shut up.” Before retracing my hand, I pinch his nipple.
“Mmm, keep doing that and I’ll have to go to my meeting with tented pants.”
“Idiot.” I laugh out the insult as I pull open the door.
A moment later, Vincent strides out of his office with his usual straight-backed confidence.
In my mind, I had broken him into two categories. Mr. Mazzanti the ruthless CEO and Vincent the father. But I’m realizing that there are so many more layers to him. And it scares me, because the sum of his parts is a man that I could easily fall in love with. A man I might already be halfway in love with.
Brent’s grumbling voice pulls my attention away from Vincent’s retreating form.
He’s sitting with his chair pulled in so far his stomach is pressed into the edge of the desk.
“Why are you sitting so weird?” I ask with a tilt of my head.
“It’s your fault. You and Mr. Hot-and-Moody.” He glances around then shifts and reaches below the desk to adjust himself.
My brain is still a little slow because it takes me a moment to realize that our little show had quite the effect on Brent.
A loud laugh bursts out of me and the glare Brent gives me only has me laughing harder.
Walking away from Vincent’s office, I feel lighter than I have in days.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
SASHA
“A
ll right, that’s it. Just relax.” The man’s voice oozes around the room.
With my eyes shut, laying flat on my back, I do as he says.
“Now give me one more deep inhale, in through your nose. Hold for three... Exhale.” There’s a pause before the man claps. “Great job everyone! You should be proud of the work you put in today. Hopefully, you’ll be walking out of here with your muscles warm and loose.”
“I better be walking out of here bow-legged.” Jessica snickers from her spot next to me.
Still laying down, I roll my head to the side to look at her. “Girl, I’ll riot if you don’t get some dick after that. There’s no way I went through that hell for nothing.”
She widens her eyes at me. “Oh my god, right! I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing. I feel like I just ran a mile.” At my laugh she shrugs. “What? A mile is far.”
As we start to clean up our spaces, I see the instructor make his way over. It was clear how smitten they were with each other the moment we entered the studio. I bite back a smirk as I watch him whisper something into Jessica’s ear causing her to giggle. I’m not at all surprised when Jess tells me she’s going to hang back and talk with Mr. Yoga for a few minutes.
Honestly, I’m happy she’s staying behind. Not only for her sake (because he really is cute), but also for mine. Jess
is way too perceptive, and I’m sure it wouldn’t take her long to realize that something was on my mind. Specifically: Vincent.
Wishing her luck, I sling my little duffle over my shoulder and head out. It’s only 2:00, but I already told the team at Mazzanti Enterprises that I’d be working the rest of the day from home. So when I get outside, I turn away from the office and start the short walk to my apartment.
Short walk is key, because - damn - I feel out of shape. After slumping against the elevator wall on the way up to my floor, I nearly have to drag my legs to make them walk again. I’m so tired with exhaustion that I don’t even have the energy to lift my bag off my shoulder as I unlock my door and shuffle inside.
With as little effort as possible, I turn the deadbolt behind me and slide the security chain into place.
With the shower calling my name, I make it all the way across the living room, to the mouth of the hallway, before I realize that something is wrong. Captain hasn’t greeted me. He always greets me at the door. Always.
I pause and look around, worry instantly filling my limbs.
Sweeping my eyes across the living room, I spot him on his window perch. Hunched over. Fur puffed up. Eyes wide open.
The worry turning inside me slowly forms into fear.
“What’s wrong buddy...” I whisper.
A creak at the end of the hallway answers me.
In what feels like slow motion, I turn my head toward the sound to see a man stepping out of my bedroom.
For a frozen moment, we stare at each other.
He looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He’s several yards away, but even from here I can clearly make out the scary-as-fuck look in his eyes. It’s a look of menace, and I have no doubt that this man means me harm.
He takes a step towards me.
That small action flares my fear into full blooded terror.
My fight or flight reaction kicks in and I dart forward. Two quick steps and I’m inside the guest room. I slam the door and lock the handle. The small click does little to make me feel safe. I’m trapped in here, but I never would have made it back through the front door in time.
The handle rattles. And I scream.
I rush to the small dresser and with strength I didn’t think I had; I shove it in front of the door.
A thud against the door pulls a whimper from my throat. The dresser won’t be heavy enough to hold the door. I drop down, pressing my back against the drawers, hoping that my added weight will be enough to keep him out.
The door rattles again, followed by a louder thud that I can feel through the dresser. I picture him on the other side trying to force the door open and my breathing gets even more rapid. I don’t know if he has a weapon. Could he shoot down the door? Could a bullet go through the door and the dresser and hit me?
“I’m calling the police!” I try to shout, but my voice breaks.
I shut my eyes and swallow.
“I’m calling the police!” This time the shout comes out loud enough that I’m sure he can hear me.
With shaking hands, I pull my phone out of my duffle. I silently thank myself for not dropping the bag when I came in the door.
It takes me two tries to dial.
“911, what’s your emergency?” A calm woman asks.
“Someone is in my house! They broke in!” My breaths are coming in pants and it’s hard to speak.
“What’s your address?”
My muscle memory kicks in and I tell her my address, even though my brain can hardly form a thought.
“Police are on the way. Please stay on the phone with me. What’s your name?”
“S… Sasha Clark.”
“Is anyone else in the home with you?” She asks.
“No.” I shake my head. Then I remember. “My cat! Oh god, what if he hurts my cat!”
“Try to stay calm, Miss Clark.”
“But what if he takes Captain?” I cry.
The woman’s voice remains steady. “Have you ever tried to pick up a cat that doesn’t want to be grabbed?”
I almost laugh but it turns into a choked sob. “Yes.”
“Your cat will be okay. The police are almost there. Where are you in the apartment? Are you secure?”
“I’m in the guest room. Um, the first door down the hallway.” I pause a second and try to listen. “I can’t hear him. I don’t know if he’s still here.”
“Just stay where you are. The police will announce themselves and let you know when to come out.”
“Okay.”
“You’re doing a great job. The officers will be there any moment.”
As soon as she says it, I hear loud voices from inside my apartment. “Minneapolis Police!”
I can’t make out what they say after that since my ears are buzzing.
“Miss Clark, the police are there now.”
“Yeah. Yes, I hear them.”
“Okay, I’m going to hang up now. They will help you.”
“Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.” I don’t even realize that I’m crying until I see the tears hit the screen as I try to hang up the call.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SASHA
I ’m sitting on my couch, talking through the details of my intruder for about the fourth time, when it happens.
All was quiet, and then it wasn't. The sudden shouting outside my door has me jumping off my seat. The pair of detectives I’d been talking to rush past me to the door. They’d told me there was another officer out in the hallway and it sounds like he’s arguing with someone. Or multiple someone’s.
“Miss, stay back while we handle this.” One of the detectives says before reaching for the door handle.
Not needing to be told twice, I back myself into the far corner.
My heart is racing. How can I be so afraid, in my own home, surrounded by police? I clutch my hands together and press them against my trembling lips. I know I’m being a chicken. I know I’m safe now. But… I close my eyes as I hear my front door open.
It can’t be the same guy. The officer in the hallway wouldn’t be arguing with him, he’d arrest him. Unless I didn’t describe him well? Or what if he had an accomplice that I didn’t see?
“Where is she!?” Vincent’s booming voice has my eyes flying open.
The detectives are trying to hold him back as he pushes through the doorway. He looks furious. And terrified.
“Vincent.” I can barely make out my own voice, but he hears me.
His gaze whips to mine and the emotion that sweeps through me is nearly enough to have me sliding to the floor.
His features soften. “Sasha. Sweetheart.”
The cops seem to realize that Vincent isn’t a danger to me, and they let him go. The second he’s free, he strides towards me. I want to go to him, but I can't seem to move from my spot in the corner.
“Baby, are you alright?” His tone is gentle.
Am I? I’m not sure, but I nod anyway.
And then he’s there. Pulling me into a hug that has me breaking all over again. With one hand on the back of my head, he cradles me against his body as I shake through hiccupping sobs.
“Shh. You’re okay.” He repeats that over and over, lips pressed into my hair.
His touch and smell and heat is the comfort I didn’t know I needed.
He doesn’t let me go. He just lets me cry.
I don’t know how long we stay like this. But the longer I lean on him, the more I start to worry about what will happen when he steps away. Like really steps away. It might be today. Or tomorrow. Or next month. But I know it will happen. Because somehow Vincent has become my rock. My touchstone. My center. But I’m not that for him. So eventually he’ll step away, and when he does, it will break me. It will break me more than I know how to handle.
My eyes squeeze shut even harder. I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. I’m already scared and overwhelmed. But it’s that surge of emotion that finally has me opening my eyes to what I need t
o do. Until Vincent decides what he wants from us, I need to distance myself.
Stepping back, I put the space I need between us.
“I’m sorry. I’m okay.” I use my palm to wipe at my cheeks.
Vincent grips my chin and tips my head up. “Don’t be sorry.” His other hand brushes back a lock of hair that fell across my face. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m fine. Really.”
He watches me, as if he can sense the lie. Finally, he nods his head before pressing a kiss to my lips. “I need to talk to the officers.”
Watching Vincent walk back across the room, I see that there are even more people in my apartment now. The same two detectives as before, plus a third officer. Probably the hallway guy. I recognize the hulk of a man known as Angelo and then two more men who look like they live off protein shakes and testosterone. I don’t think I’ve seen them before, but I’d bet that they’re part of the Mazzanti security team. What they’re doing here, I have no idea. I don’t even know how Vincent found out about my break-in.
Angelo must have smoothed things over while I was crying into Vincent’s tailored shirt, because all the cops seem very calm, openly talking to Vincent.
I step closer so I can listen to what Vincent is saying.
“It’s got to be Randal Smith…”
Randal? My brain takes a beat to place the name before it all comes crashing down around me. That was Randal? As in Annie’s attempted kidnapper. Brother to the dead Renee. Randal.
Why was he here? What would he want with me? How did he find me?
Vincent is still talking to the police. “I’ll have Angelo send over our file and connect you with the detectives that worked with us before. I have a restraining order on him regarding myself, my daughter, and any of my properties. I’ll be adding Sasha to that list until this is resolved.” Vincent is slowly losing his composure as he continues talking. The rage he’s been suppressing is taking over. “I don’t know how the fuck he found out about my connection to Sasha, but he must be close. Must’ve been tailing me. That’s the only way.”