Page 27 of Under His Command
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry for your loss,” his wife says, leaning in to grab my hand.
So they knew my brother, then.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile.
The senator tsks, looking back at Rowan. “And you’re not worried they’re going to target her?”
There’s a short pause that has me looking back at him, too, for answers. Target who? Me? Who is he talking about? Rowan tightens his grip on me, and I get the feeling something’s not right.
“Like I said,” he drawls, “she’s mine. So other than making sure I’m giving her a perfect evening, I’m not worried about anything else. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”
Rowan takes my hand and leads me around the senator and his wife. But just as I’m about to pass them, Mrs. Gutenberg catches my other hand and stops me in my tracks for a brief second.
“Be careful, Dove Finnegan. Or you might not get out of this alive.”
TEN
Ipush my lower lip between my teeth, tasting the red wine I’ve just sipped. It goes down with a subtle burn, mixing with the nerves swarming in my belly. Rowan is across the small rounded table, watching me, waiting for me to answer the question he has just asked.
We’re dating, he said. And I would love nothing more than to just give in to him tonight, but my mind keeps going back to the warning Mrs. Gutenberg issued to me. What did she mean by that? And why is Rowan so clearly avoiding the subject?
“I like giving people a voice,” I finally say, placing my glass back on the table. “People who don’t have one, I mean. That’s why I wanted to become a lawyer.”
It’s not the full truth, but I don’t know how much of my sob story Rowan wants to hear. I’m sure he’d much rather enjoy himself at this party. So I decide against telling him about my cheating father and the way he blackmailed me and my brother for years before finally leaving our mom.
Silence passes between us, and Rowan cocks his head slightly to the right, observing me.
“I find it really interesting how easily I can read you, angel. I wish you’d trust me with your past, but in truth, I haven’t given you much to trust yet. You’re right to be cautious, though I promise you have nothing to worry about.”
My lips part lightly, liking the way he pays attention to me. It’s not that I don’t trust him. For some reason, I have blind faith in this man. I’d do anything he asked knowing he’d never hurt me. Stupid? Maybe. But I can’t help it. Whatever heartbreak Rowan might cause me in the future, I know it would be all worth it.
“I just didn’t want to bore you with the details,” I say as I wave a hand in front of me.
“Bore me?” He scoffs. “I want to know everything about you, Dove. Your favorite flowers. Your earliest memory. Whether you prefer watching the sun rise or set. Your favorite color too while we’re at it. You’ve lived in my head for too long. And now I finally get to have you. So let me have you.”
My gaping turns into smirking, and placidness starts coursing through me, replacing my nerves. “My favorite color?” I muse. “Sounds easy enough. And here I was thinking you’d want to know my favorite kink or something crazy like that.”
He smiles, his eyes never leaving mine, the silence drifting between us making me understand he really does want an answer to those questions.
I fix my bracelet and clear my throat, averting his persistent gaze as I try to find my words.
“I like peonies the most—white and pink. My earliest memory is playing hide-and-seek with Cole between the white sheets my mother had left outside to dry. Sunrises scare me, because only bad things happen when you’re up at the early hours of dawn, so I prefer sunsets. And my favorite color?” I grin, then look back at the green in his eyes. “Right now, green. Your turn.”
He leans back in his chair, his lips twitching with a smile.
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything you can tell me,” I say. “Why did you join the military, for one? And how are you so”—I shake my head lightly—“calm, considering what’s going on in the country? You’re a real mystery to me.”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, I gasp when Rowan pulls me and my chair closer to him with a screech as it slides across the polished floors. Then I feel the warmth of his palm trailing up the slit in my dress.
“Rowan!” I whisper-shout, looking around for anyone who might see us.
“I ought to be a gentleman and get through this dinner without touching you. But that perfume of yours is driving me insane. You smell delicious.”
I’m lost for words as he takes the breath out of my lungs again. I stare at his lush lips, and all I want to do is press mine to his.
“Is it truly okay if people see us together? For politics, I mean.”
