It can’t possibly end well. He doesn’t sound like he’s in the best of moods right now.
The chair pulls out, his legs filling my vision.
Scuttling back, I plaster myself as much as I can into a single corner of the desk. I mean, it’s huge down here, more spacious than I’d imagine a desk to be, but I don’t know the radius of Noah’s sitting stance, how far his thighs will spread out.
He could easily spread eagle and knock into me.
Something shifts above me causing my eyes to go up on reflex. By the time I realize I’m not physically capable of seeing through the wood, it’s too late.
A hand grabs my ankle.
A scream escapes my throat.
And Pan escapes my hold, running past Noah’s crouching body.
His glasses are dipped low on his nose, letting me see how pissed he really is.
“Jesus Christ.” He rubs his, undoubtedly ringing, ear. The underside of the desk is like a megaphone, amplifying my scream. Glaring, he adds, “What the fuck, Sayer.”
I didn’t mean too, it kind of just slipped out. Excuse me for being a little on edge tonight.
“You scared me.” Not moving from my spot.
“What the hell are you doing here.” It’s not phrased as a question. “And why is your cat running around my office?”
“Your club was overwhelming. Pan didn’t like it.”
“What the fuck is he doing here in the first place?”
“Looking for you. But you weren’t here.”
“So you leave. You don’t come to my office.” He rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Hotch told me I could wait here.”
A sound of annoyance rumbles from the back of his throat until he sees the expression on my face. He sighs. “C’mon. Get out from under there.”
He stands.
I don’t move.
“Sayer. It’s best not to test me right now.”
Sensing he’s right, I heed his words and crawl out from the desk as dignified as I can. But before I can stand up, Noah’s hand goes to my shoulder. Stopping me.
He gives me a cruel smile. Enjoying this, me on my hands and knees before him.
I wait for Noah to step aside so there’s enough room for me, but like the gentleman he’s not, he doesn’t so much as twitch a brow.
Noah’s stiff as a statue as I stand.
We’re so close my breasts graze the buttons of his shirt. And with every breath, our chests brush together. It sends fireworks across my skin, shooting off in all directions.
His lips give a small twitch on his otherwise hard face as he takes in my attire. “Got all dressed up for me, I see.”
“Don’t shame my pajamas.” I cross my arms over the penguin’s chest.
Again, his lips fight to form a smile. “I would never,” he teases.
Wait.
Teases?
I can deal with a snarky Noah. Even a surly Noah. But a teasing Noah?
That’s a level I have yet to unlock. I don’t know what to do. It takes me several minutes to form any kind of response. “Sure you wouldn’t.”
Oh my God, that’s the best my short-circuited, slightly traumatized brain could come up with?
Someone please put me out of my misery.
Noah chuckles, acknowledging how lame it was. “You can do better than that.”
“I really can,” I admit. “You just threw me off.”
“How?” He sounds genuinely intrigued.
“You teased me. Usually you just insult me.”
“No, I don’t.”
I raise a brow. “You really do live in a different world.”
“Excuse me?” He matches my brow rising with one of his own.
“I said,” raising my voice, “you really do live in a different world. You’ve insulted me so many times since we fell into this little bargain.” I pause. “You know what. I shouldn’t have even come here.”
Why did I think coming to see him would make this day better?
I try to move. He sidesteps with me.
With narrow eyes, I try again. Only to get the same results.
“Let me by, Noah.”
“Why did you come here?
“Forget it. I changed my mind.” Looking down at my toes, I mumble, “I keep wanting you to be someone you’re not.”
It’s quiet, save for Pan’s purring as he explores Noah’s office, and I have no doubt Noah heard me.
“Who do you want me to be?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
He stares at me and for a moment that cold, chiseled mask he usually has in place slips away and I see something move across his features. Until I blink and it’s gone as he reaches for the zipper of my onesie.
Playing with it, he pulls it farther down until the peaks of my breasts are exposed.
His eyes heat when he sees I’m not wearing a bra.
I try to pull away, but his hands glide down my sides to my thighs.
He lifts me up, igniting my body. Fire he feeds as he places me on the desk, settling between my legs.
Noah wraps a lock of hair around his finger as he asks, “Now. Tell me why you were hiding under my desk.”
When I don’t answer right away, he tugs on the strand with enough force that my lips part. “I came looking for you. As I’ve said. Now I wish I hadn’t.”
His lips thin. “And you decided to wait under my desk?”
“It’s quite comfortable.”
He doesn’t laugh.
“Who was that?” I ask, hoping to distract.
Noah’s brow raises, seeing through me, but he plays along anyway. “A friend.”
“It didn’t sound very friendly.”
“And how should it sound?” he asks, running a finger down my cheek.
“I don’t know.” I push past the lump in my throat. “Perhaps, friendly?”
“Mhm,” he hums. His finger traces the pulse in my neck. “Perhaps.”
I start to nod as his finger wanders lower. Oxygen leaves my lungs as he leans in close. Lips skimming my jaw.
My fingers curl around the lip of the desk.
“Perhaps, you’d rather I greet her like this.” He pulls at the neckline of my onesie as his lips move along my jaw. “Maybe make her comfortable like this.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” I whisper.
His lips stop moving. “And why’s that?”
Not waiting for my answer, he hoists my legs around his hips, pressing me close.
I feel him in every iota.
“Maybe,” his lips hover over mine. “I should greet her in a way I’ve wanted to since she first walked in my club after six long years away…”
My eyes skip to his. What?
All coherent thoughts leave as his head angles toward mine only to have him freeze above me. His gaze locked on my chest.
Naturally.
Huffing in annoyance, I snap my fingers. “I’m up here.”
Noah doesn’t respond.
“Noah.” I move to touch his face when, like a viper, his hand catches my wrist.
“You’re bleeding.”
“What?”
“You’re. Bleeding.”
His free hand traces the small flecks of dried blood on my collarbone.
I yank my hand from him, disentangling my legs from his waist as well. “I’m fine.”
Noah hasn’t stopped tracing the blood. I can feel him holding back. “Why are you bleeding, Sayer?”
I shake my head, silently begging him not to make me answer. I’m unsure I could find the right words.
“Sayer.” He cups my cheek.
Something flops to the floor and we pull apart to see Pan has knocked over my purse, the contents spilled on the floor.
Noah breaks away to pick it up and I’m quick to follow, rushing forward to gather everything before he can see…
The envelope.
His fingers wrap around it and without being told, he tears it open.
Th
e photos fall out first, fanning across the desk. Touching me.
I recoil away from it as Noah, with slow, deliberate movements picks up the letter, reading it.
As his eyes move, his hands tighten around the paper. Wrinkling the edges.
I’m helpless as I watch his eyes go from the letter to the pictures.
The letter. The pictures. The pictures, the letter.
His face remains blank while he takes it all in.
The only sign he’s feeling any emotion at all is by the cracking of his neck and the widening of his stance.
It’s not until he’s shredding the paper, making it snow flecks of paper onto the floor that he shows how pissed off he is.
Chest heaving, he asks, “Did they leave anything else?”
“Flowers,” I whisper.
“Did they have anything in them?”
“N-no.” I didn’t even think to. They’re just flowers. What could be hidden in them? “I ran out of my apartment as soon as I read it. Coming here.”
Noah gives a short nod, not elaborating.
Pan meows, pawing at Noah’s leg.
“That’s why I brought Pan. I couldn’t leave him there.”
Noah nods again, barely hearing me.
“What would they hide in it?” I ask softly. My first thought goes to a bomb.
“A recording device. A camera.”
“A bomb?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” I wrap my arms around my waist.
“It’s not supposed to.”
I grimace at him. “Gee. Thanks.”
“I didn’t say it to comfort you, Sayer.” He moves toward me. I look up at him feeling lost. I feel tired and lightheaded and I just want someone to hug me.
Screw it!
I throw my arms around Noah’s neck, thinking he’d immediately push me away, only to be thankfully surprised when his arms wrap around my waist and I’m being held tight.
“You’re safe.”
My body deflates, not knowing I needed to hear those words come from Noah to relax. Knowing it’s true.
Noah rubs my back in reassuring circles. I think he’s waiting for me to lose it and cry and if that’s true, he’s going to be massively disappointed. I haven’t cried in a very long time.
I didn’t even cry at my granddad’s funeral. I’m not crying now.
“What’re we going to do, Noah?”
“I don’t know.” He sounds angry about it. “But I’m going to keep you safe.”
“How? Will you get better security at my apartment or…what? Why are you looking me like that?”
“Sayer.” By the way he says my name, I know I’m not going to like what’s coming next. “You’re not fucking going back to that apartment.”
Words can be deadlier than any weapon and more often than not, my favorite to wield. I love to watch them fly toward their target, curious on how the recipient will react.
I physically see when they hit Sayer.
Her eyes narrow, lips purse tight “Excuse me?” She’s not happy.
My lips twitch.
It’s cute how she thinks it’s intimidating. She looks like a disgruntled penguin thanks to that ridiculous thing she’s wearing. Twenty-four but dressed like she’s ten.
Did I really think she was the best option to lure out her sister?
Maybe she wasn’t the best choice, any girl would’ve done, truthfully, but I wanted Sayer.
And now someone has her scared and frazzled. Her normally pale skin has faded to alabaster. Her hands give a slight shake while her eyes have gone dull. I can’t stand it.
Someone has stolen her luster, her shine. Those pictures burn in my mind but it’s the letter. The letter that pushed me over the edge. Admittedly, I shouldn’t have shredded it. If I were thinking rationally, I’d save it for Thea to run it through her computers to see if she could match the handwriting.
But that’s what Sayer does to me, stealing all rationale.
“Noah,” she snaps when I don’t answer her question. “What do you mean?”
“You’re moving in with me.” Thought that was obvious when I said she wasn’t going back to her apartment. Peering at her more closely, I ask, “Did you hit your head today?”
“No,” she glowers.
“Huh.” I shrug. “You’re just slow on the uptake today it seems.”
She calls me a colorful name under her breath that has me grinning. I love that I bring out this side of her. The one that curses and fights. It feels like I’m unraveling her piece by piece. And I’m captivated to see who’s left when I’m done.
“No,” she repeats, arms crossed.
“No, what?” I pluck a white hair from my suit, glaring at her cat who’s busy licking his asshole. Creature from hell.
“I’m not moving in with you.” Her voice shakes and I don’t think it’s from fear. “No, absolutely not.”
My grin grows. “This is non-negotiable, Baby Brooks. You are moving in.”
Sayer shakes her head. Her mouth opening in what I’m sure is another protest, but I tune her out as I take out my phone and send off a quick text. Complain and fight all she wants, it is happening.
This isn’t the first time this lamely named X person has tried to contact Sayer. A couple nights ago when I was picking her up to go to a charity auction, there was a note that was slid halfway under her front door. I snatched it up and read what was inside, not caring that it could’ve been something personal.
It was personal, all right, but in a way that was much like the letter Sayer got tonight. Personal in a way that would rattle her. And just like tonight, I got rid of the letter. Both times I wasn’t thinking and instead listened to the fiery rage inside me instead of logic, disposing of it while texting Thea, the tech wiz extraordinaire to get me video surveillance of Sayer’s apartment.
This is what Sayer does to me. Rattles me into listening to my emotions instead of my head.
Emotions make for the weak.
“Noah!” Sayer snaps, frustration bleeding in her tone. “Are you even listening to me?”
“No.” I slip my phone back into my coat pocket before looking at her. Her gray eyes melt with heated silver, showing how frustrated she is. She used to be so prim and proper, never without a strand of hair out of place and seeing her now with strands sticking this way and that gives me a deep satisfaction knowing I can make her unravel.
She makes a noise in the back of her throat that I think is supposed to be a growl but sounds more like a clogged esophagus.
She’s fallen so far since I last saw her, but I’m more drawn to her than ever. Captivated even. My eyes can’t stop drinking her in when we’re together, always discovering something new.
Take the first time I saw her. I noticed all the major changes, how she had changed from a shy teenager to a confident woman. I soaked up the obvious changes, but every run-in that’s followed has been the small, minute details synching my attention.
Today it’s the little crease that forms between her brows as she glares at me. I like it. Like that her face moves, unlike the Botox injected Barbies of this town.
“Noah!” She’s three seconds away from stomping her foot. The crease deepens.
“Yes?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Not listening to me.” She tries to keep the hurt out, but I hear it. Sayer’s spent most of her life with her voice not being heard.
“I feel like you’re not the one listening here. I don’t even know why we’re having a discussion when there’s nothing to discuss.” My phone vibrates and I’m reaching for it when Sayer stops me.
“I swear to God Noah if you reach for that phone, I will yank it from your hand.”
I’d like to see her try, but my hand falls to my side. “You came here for help, right?” I don’t wait for an answer. “Well, this is the only way I can protect you properly.”
“Y
ou can’t just hire a security team or something?”
“Would that make you more comfortable? Having strangers following you around, living in an apartment you no longer feel safe in?”
She swallows before biting at her nail. She won’t answer, not when she knows I’m right.
“You should be thanking me.”
“For what?” she asks around her nail but when I don’t answer she pulls it away. “You’re joking.”
She eyes me, waiting for a punch line.
I don’t give her one.
Walking to my desk, I unbutton my suit jacket before sitting down. Once comfortable, I level Sayer with a serious look. “For offering you my place. No one is hardly allowed over, let alone live there.”
One time my cousin was visiting, and I made him get a hotel. When I hook up with women, it’s either in this club, a storage closet or I go back to her place.
My space is for me. No one else.
So Sayer should feel honored that I’m being this generous.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself to distract from the unfamiliar pang in my chest at the idea of Sayer being in danger.
Sayer stands in the middle of my office, wringing her hands in front of her. The sight alone stirs up that discomfort of wanting to take care of her. To comfort her. To distract her.
To hold her in my arms again.
Getting up, I walk around my desk to meet her.
“Are you scared to live with me, Sayer?” I tilt my head toward hers. “You are, aren’t you?”
She doesn’t answer, too busy worrying at her bottom lip.
With my thumb I pull it from her teeth, tracing it slowly, watching as her eyes start to close only to snap back open.
Her head jerks back. Remembering herself, this place, and me. “Why do you want me to?”
“I don’t appreciate someone messing with you.” Her eyes narrow. “And if you move in, well…” I shrug. “It can only help my plan.”
One stone, two birds.
She slips from my hold, crossing her arms. A barrier to keep me at a distance.
I frown.
“Do you think this was from Harlow?” Walking to my desk, her hand scoops up shredded flakes of the letter, letting them fall through her fingers to the floor.
Under the Lies Page 12