“Colette, at least get her in the house before you start swapping designer labels.” This from her father who still hadn’t deigned to leave his post by the front door.
“Oh, yes. Of course.”
The second she released Gia’s shoulders, Beckett moved in behind her and splayed his hand low on her back.
Her mother tracked the movement and her eyes widened.
Years of well-drilled manners kicked in even as a wave of dread on par with a slow-motion head-on collision bowled her over. “Mom, I want you to meet Beckett Tate.”
Beckett held out his hand. His attire might not have run up the same tab as her father’s, but the way he wore his black slacks and gray Oxford with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, it didn’t matter. Beckett was pure power. Not the kind that came from money, but that came from the very core of him. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Not once in her lifetime could Gia remember her mother dumbfounded, but the tiny pause as she stared at Beckett’s outstretched hand marked the first. She recovered quickly, gently placing her hand in Beckett’s. “Gia mentioned she was bringing someone.” She glanced back at Reginald whose face had grown even sterner. “I’d thought she meant one of her girlfriends.”
So...what? She’d thought Beckett was her driver or something? She managed to keep the thought to herself, but only barely. Gia moved in tight to Beckett’s side and curled her hand around the inside of his bicep. “Beckett’s my someone. My date. Is there a problem?”
Another glance from Colette to Reginald. Almost a silent plea for guidance.
Her dad lifted his chin almost imperceptibly. “Not a problem at all. You just hadn’t mentioned you were seeing anyone. We’re delighted, of course.” He stepped to the side and motioned to the door. “Why don’t the two of you come in so we can hear about your flight?”
Colette hurried up the stairs as fast as her Pradas and common decency would allow.
Beckett took advantage of the wide berth she’d created and leaned close enough only for Gia to hear. “If they’re this opposed to me on good behavior, I’m afraid to see how they’d respond to the unvarnished version.”
“I don’t give a shit what they think.”
Her father pinned her with a look that made her think he’d heard her quip, even if logic and the limits of human hearing insisted he couldn’t have.
She lowered her voice further just in case and locked eyes with Beckett. “Whatever they say tonight, can I offer a blanket apology in advance?”
He chuckled at that, slid his hand to her hip and squeezed. “Your opinion’s the only one I care about. Worry about navigating tonight, not my tender male ego.”
Her father’s gaze dropped to Beckett’s possessive grip at her hip a second before Gia and Beckett moved across the threshold.
To Beckett’s credit, he masked the initial impact of the foyer better than most. Just strolled right into the cavernous opening with its Italian marble tiles and scarlet carpet-covered grand staircase as if he dealt with such excess every day. He even managed not to crane his head and gawk at the soaring ceiling with its crystal chandeliers and gold filigree woodwork. Where the exterior was all Mediterranean extravagance, the inside was closer to the Palace of Versailles.
Heavy quick footsteps clipped against the tiles from the far side of the stairway, still out of sight. “Is she here?”
Gia stopped dead in her tracks, the voice still echoing through the big room unmistakable.
Sure enough Judd strode into sight, a smug almost superior look locked on her and Beckett.
Beckett moved in tight behind her and cupped her shoulders. “Judd.” Not a friendly welcome. More of a warning statement masquerading as an ambivalent hello.
“What is Judd doing here?” She paired the question with a demanding glare at her father.
“Gia!” Despite the scolding tone to her mother’s voice, she kept the volume at a respectable level and moved closer to Judd as if he needed to be shielded from Gia’s lapse in decency. “Judd’s been welcome in our home since the day his family moved next door. We knew he’d be in town for the event, too, so we invited him to join us.”
And just like that, the pieces clicked together. Her father hadn’t wanted to support her career. He’d wanted to dip his toes back in the matchmaking waters and see if he couldn’t navigate his daughter back to the man he’d picked for her. Given the subtle glide of Beckett’s thumbs where he gripped her even tighter, she wasn’t the only one adding two and two together.
Gia cleared her throat and straightened as much as her five-foot-four frame would allow. “Sorry, Judd. I didn’t expect to see you here. It surprised me.”
“I can see that.” Judd’s attention shifted to Beckett’s hands at her shoulders and his face hardened. “I’d heard rumors you two had started something, but wasn’t aware things had moved quite this far.”
Beckett waded in, his deep voice just as lethal and uncompromising as the man. “You weren’t on the list of people who needed to know.”
Talk about your lines in the sand. In one phrase, Beckett had not only shut Judd down and staked his claim, but had thrown up an unmistakable boundary. Gia covered one of his hands with hers, praying he’d look past her sweaty palm and see the contact as a thank you instead of a silent plea to haul her out the front door. “Well,” she managed with a fake smile to match her mother’s. “Now that we’re all here, what’s for dinner?”
An hour and a half and a whole lot of uncomfortable conversation later, she wished she’d opted for Beckett hauling her out the front door. Never in her life had she been so aware of her father’s dogged ability to grill someone and make it look like a simple conversation about the weather. Which was stupid considering he was Atlanta’s premier criminal attorney. She’d just never had a circumstance where his skills were targeted on someone she cared for so deeply.
Not surprisingly, Beckett gave as good as he got. When he wanted to answer something, he did. When he didn’t—which was usually when someone edged too closely to his childhood—he simply dodged and redirected. The only clues that tipped her off to his growing irritation were the brief yet affectionate caresses he gave her—a touch to her cheek or a soft stroke along her forearm—and the occasional times he’d casually slide his hand in his front pocket.
That was where his hand was now. Reclined against his dining room chair with his fingers loosely coiled around a delicate china coffee cup he could crush on a whim, no one else in the room seemed to notice he’d slipped his hand inside. Gia certainly never had noticed the trick before she’d learned of his need for touch, and she’d watched him plenty.
But she knew now. Knew how he almost always kept something incredibly soft tucked inside to help level him out when he couldn’t get a more tangible form of contact and was close to losing his shit. Knew that the something soft between his fingers was something of hers. Or more to the point, a scrap of what was left of a black silk nightie she’d had on when things had gotten delightfully rough.
“That’s an impressive business you’ve made for yourself,” Reginald said after all but asking for an itemized P&L on Beckett’s company. “I’d wager your partner’s technical services turn a more lucrative profit considering more limited overhead.”
“It’s not about which service turns more profit. It’s about leveraging different skill sets so we maximize income on every outlet across the board.” Beckett lifted his coffee cup and held Reginald’s stare. “Kind of like family.”
Apparently, tired of grilling Beckett and getting nowhere, her father shifted his steely focus to Gia. “So, if the bulk of your team is being provided by Beckett, I guess it’s fair to say it’s his company providing the core leadership for the event tomorrow?”
“My company’s got nothing to do with tomorrow,” Beckett said before she could answer. “Gia built her own team. The fact that she i
nterviewed and cherry-picked from the best sources proves she’s smart and efficient.”
Dear God, could this night get any worse? Her temples throbbed and her stomach was so tight she wouldn’t have to do sit-ups for a month. And the worst part of it all was a part of her had secretly hoped her parents would see the good in Beckett she did. Instead, all he’d gotten was the third degree and glares from both Judd and her father.
Per usual, her mother seemed to float in a whole different dimension. A fact proven when she chose that moment to interject. “Gia, why don’t you and Judd go and grab dessert for us? Marisela made us a lovely key lime pie before she left.”
Judd smiled like he’d just been handed the perfect Christmas present and scooted his chair away from the table. “My favorite!”
“I know!” her mother chirped. “She was so happy to hear you’d be by tonight she insisted on making one for you.” Her gaze slid to Gia. “Do you mind, darling? It would give your father and I time to get to know your friend, Beckett, a little better.”
“No.” A single word that drew every eye to her and seemed to pause the Earth’s rotation all at once. She didn’t care. Not anymore. Treating her like shit for years was one thing. Rubbing their superior attitudes in Beckett’s face and disrespecting them both with their matchmaking schemes was something else entirely. “I’m not going to go get dessert with Judd. I’m not going to bond with him in the kitchen over key lime pie and suddenly change my stance on what I’ve told you a million times before. But just in case I wasn’t clear enough on all the other occasions, let me state it unequivocally now. I am not interested in a romantic relationship with Judd. We’re friends who work together on occasion and even that is something I’m reconsidering repeating in the future.”
“Gia—” her mother started, but it was Reginald who finished.
“Are you done?”
“No, I’m not.” In that second, she understood Beckett’s need for touch on a level she’d never thought she’d experience, but it took everything she had to keep from reaching out for his hand. To feel his strength and support. “I brought Beckett here to introduce him to my family. I stupidly thought you’d be interested in getting to know him and maybe—just maybe—appreciate him the way I do, but it seems the only agenda that matters to you is yours.”
Colette set her napkin aside and leaned in, the picture of concern and remorse. “Of course, we’re interested in your business associates, Gia, we just wanted—”
She slammed her hands down on the gleaming dining room table and surged to her feet. “He’s not my business associate, he’s the man I love!”
Nothing.
Not a single movement or sound in the whole damned house for the space of two heartbeats.
Had she really said that?
Or in this case, roared it?
Out loud?
From the far end of the table, her mother stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Her father’s glare from the opposite end was nothing short of glacial where Judd’s face flamed hot enough it was a wonder his starched collar wasn’t already drenched.
But it wasn’t them she gave a damn about. It was Beckett and the utter lack of response or movement beside her that kept her locked in place, too terrified to turn and witness his response. She swallowed hard. Her lungs strained to drag in a decent breath and her heart hammered loud enough her pulse echoed in her ears.
Forcing herself into motion, she faced him.
Oh, holy hell.
He hadn’t moved. Not one inch. But his eyes were locked on hers, raw, unmasked pride and possessiveness etched on every line of his face and searing straight to her soul. He stood, slow as if he had all the time in the world and zero concern for the people watching. He smoothed the backs of his fingers along her jawline, then cupped her neck and drew her next to him.
So warm. Utterly safe. Accepted.
Protected.
Her father cleared his throat. “I think that’s enough theatrics, Gia. Have a seat.”
“That wasn’t theatrics,” Beckett said with more than a little warning in his voice. “That was your daughter trying to get you to hear her.” He tossed his napkin on the table, guided Gia away from the table with a hand low on her back and focused on her mother, effectively dismissing her father and Judd. “Sounds like my woman’s not interested in dessert. We’ll let ourselves out.”
Chapter Twenty
He should say something. For thirty minutes on the drive back to the hotel, Beckett’s conscience had read him the riot act for keeping his silence and not doing something—anything—to ease Gia’s obvious tension, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. Could barely function well enough to safely navigate the winding highway interchanges of downtown with the wildness burning through him. He’d pushed the envelope on his control before. Had known the second Gia’s dad had started in with his pompous bullshit the night would end with him on the edge.
But he hadn’t counted on Gia.
Hadn’t suspected she was anywhere near feeling about him the way he felt about her and had been totally blindsided by what she’d said. Had felt the passion behind her words clear to his bones. Hell, the only reason he was still halfway sane was the steadying contact of his hand manacled around her wrist. The heavy thud of her pulse beneath his thumb and her tender skin beneath his fingertips.
He’s the man I love!
Two seconds at most, but they were burned into him. The conviction in her voice. The certainty and confidence in the way she’d stared her family and Judd down. While she might have been the tiniest person in the whole damned room, when she’d surged to her feet she’d been a giant. Bulletproof. And she’d thrown down for him.
He whipped the Escalade into the parking garage, the need for caution and slowness in the tight confines scraping like barbed wire beneath his skin. Even the harsh fluorescent lights overhead hurt. Like a thousand tiny, razor-sharp rakes dragging beneath his skull.
Gia covered the hand he kept locked around her wrist with her free hand, slowly stroking his knuckles then up to his forearms. Giving what she could to help despite the fact he hadn’t done the same.
Were her fingers shaking? Or was it his imagination?
Of course, they’re shaking, you fucking moron. You haven’t said so much as “thank you” since you got her into the car.
He gripped the steering wheel so tight he nearly bungled swinging into the nearest parking spot. He squeezed her wrist and ground out, “Stay put,” before he punched the gearshift into park, killed the engine and unfolded out of the driver’s seat.
The simple act of walking was a challenge, his muscles too tight from his self-imposed lockdown. Not to mention, his dick had been hard as a concrete pillar from the time she’d started reading her parents the riot act. Professional Gia was a turn-on. Sweet Gia was a treat. But badass Gia? The second her attitude flared and she got down to business, the end of the world could be ten minutes away and he’d ignore the whole damned thing in favor of watching her do her thing.
He jerked her car door open and held his hand out.
She took it, but stayed in her seat. “Are we going to talk about this?”
“Talk about what?” He tugged her hand enough to get her in motion, but the questions kept coming.
Her feet touched down on the concrete and she craned her head back and kept her gaze locked on him. “About what I said.”
So beautiful. Hitting him head-on with what she needed to know despite the dangerous waters she had to sense she was wading into. “Did you mean it?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. Not even a beat. And damned if the confirmation didn’t battering-ram his determination right up into the stratosphere. “Then no.”
“No?”
Beckett slammed the car door shut, backed her up against the Escalade and crowded close, dragging in much-needed air before h
is answer practically growled out. “I didn’t lay you out on your parents’ dining room table and do what I wanted to. I’ve made it the long-ass drive from that stick-up-the-ass house to downtown Atlanta without pulling over and giving my instincts free rein. So, no. We’re not going to talk.” He fisted her hair at the back of her head and got so close her ragged exhalations danced across his face. “We’re gonna make it through this garage and all the way upstairs to our room and then we’re still not gonna talk, because I’m gonna be too busy showing you what I thought about what you said.”
By the time he was done, both of them were breathing heavy, her hands trembling against his chest and her big brown eyes so wide anyone passing by would’ve thought she was staring up at the big bad wolf. “Okay.”
Okay.
A simple word, but shockingly effective in how it pacified the animal inside him. A soft yielding on par with a willingly bared throat that forced his beast to take a step back and practice patience. He uncoiled his fist and cupped the side of her face, her full lips slightly parted and so close he could almost taste them. He skimmed his thumb across them, the simple, soft contact and the promise of more a much-needed sedative to his raging tension. “Upstairs.”
He’d meant to convey more. To let her know she deserved more than an ill-timed kiss in a parking garage or the selfish gluttony his need for touch demanded he take.
But she didn’t need it. Just smiled that sweet smile of hers and stroked her hands from his sternum to each side of his neck and whispered, “Upstairs.”
An overcrowded elevator. The understated ding as it landed on each floor. Hunter-green carpet as they finally stepped out into their hallway. Gold trim on the ivory painted walls. Last door on the left.
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