Page 6 of Merciless King

Growled.

I felt it down to my toes.

“Huh, I forgot to ask,” she said then turned to me, brow raised.

I stepped forward on shaky legs as she moved back, giving me room. I was standing in the doorway now, which meant he could see me, but there was no way I could look at him. Not yet. “London,” I said. “London Rivera.”

The sound of a desk chair rolling back and hitting the wall came next. The redhead’s eyes widened and slid from Van to me and back.

“You can go, Lulu. I’ll take it from here.”

She stared at us for a beat longer then finally turned and headed back to reception, and I made myself step into Van’s office.

He was still standing behind his desk and it was a struggle, but I lifted my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his, so I focused on his strong neck, that cut-from-granite jaw. It was covered in whiskers, more than a day’s growth, like he’d been out all night, maybe two, and hadn’t had a chance to shave. I took in the rest of him. Dark pants and a T-shirt that molded to him.

I cleared my throat. “Do you…do you have a minute?”

I didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were on me, burning into me like lasers. I could feel them. Van was impossible to read, and even when I had managed to look into those dark-as-night eyes, I’d never been able to read him. I just knew that they drew me in a way I didn’t understand.

He stepped out from behind his desk but didn’t come any closer. “What are you doing here, London?” he said, and somehow his voice had gone even deeper, rougher than before.

He also didn’t sound happy that I was standing in his office.

I struggled at the best of times with social interaction, unless I was talking about my flowers. Anything to do with my store felt easy. There I was relatively confident. There I knew what was expected of me. But Van made me quake from the toes up. In the hospital, I’d stumbled over my words, and when I could bring myself to talk to him, I’d blurted idiotic things. He made me nervous, anxious. Feelings I tried to avoid. But oddly, I still wanted to get closer to Van despite those feelings, because when it came to him, they weren’t all negative. No, they came with an edge of excitement.

“Look at me, London,” he said softly.

My chin came up, like he was a sergeant major barking orders at me. My eyes briefly made contact with his before I looked away again. “Right, yes…well. You see, Heathcliff died and I thought—”

He straightened. “Heathcliff?”

I blinked over at him. “Yes, he is, was my dog…” I cleared my throat. “I came home and he, he was dead.”

“Okay,” he said, those eyes still zeroed in on me but now there was something else in them, something I didn’t much like. Pity. “I’m sorry you lost him, London, but I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

I shook my head and tried to gather my thoughts. “No, that’s not, that’s not the…” I stopped myself again and took a steadying breath. “I took him to the park to bury him. It was dark by the time I’d finished. I was grieving, upset, crying. I didn’t think about what I was doing until it was done, and when I started to walk home, I think…no, I’m sure, someone followed me.” I met his eyes again and held his gaze, which wasn’t easy, but I needed to get my point across. “Someone’s been following me.”

He was in front of me in two strides, his hands on my upper arms, looking down at me, and there was no way I could look away. I was trapped by his dark gaze, caged. “You were in a park on your own at night?” he gritted out.

“It wasn’t dark when I left…I-I had to bury Heathcliff.”

His jaw tightened. “You saw someone following you?”

“No, but I heard it.”

His fingers flexed, his grip on my arms firm and sure. “So you never actually saw anyone?”

“No, but I have this feeling. And I’m starting to think Heathcliff didn’t die of natural causes. I think someone broke into my apartment and killed him.” My lips started to quiver, and I sucked in a steadying breath. God, I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I’d done enough of that already. “And I’ve had calls. They call the store and say nothing. Something’s…something’s not right.” I took another breath. “Will you…will you help me, Van?”

2

Van

Her softly spoken plea hit me in the gut. I stared down at her, still trying to get my shit together. I hadn’t seen London in close to two years, I’d made sure of it, and here she was, standing in my office as beautiful and tempting as always.

And yeah, in her eyes I saw that fragility, that softness that called on every one of my protective and dominant instincts. The caveman in me still wanted to carry her home, lock her up, and keep her safe.

But that wasn’t an option. It never had been. I would never be the kind of man that was good for her. I’d run right over her and take everything I wanted from her until she despised me.