Chapter 8
The interior of the stretch limousine was a tomb of silence. The partition was up. Kate sat pressed against the door, watching the Connecticut trees blur past.
Armond was reading a financial report on his tablet, but he hadn't scrolled in ten minutes. The air between them was thick with the memory of that kiss and the sudden, cold withdrawal that followed.
Suddenly, the limo swerved violently. The brakes screeched. Kate was thrown forward, but Armond's arm shot out, barring her chest, pinning her back against the seat.
"What the hell?" Armond shouted at the intercom.
"Blockade, sir," the driver's nervous voice crackled. "It's... it's Mr. Sterling's car. He cut us off."
Armond looked out the window. A silver sports car was parked diagonally across the narrow private road. Lucas Sterling was stumbling out of the driver's seat, looking disheveled and drunk.
He slammed his hand on the limo window. "Kate! Get out here! I know you're in there!"
Kate shrank back. "He's drunk."
Armond pressed a button. The window lowered an inch.
"Sterling," Armond said, his voice calm and deadly. "Do you want to lose your family's company by tomorrow morning?"
"She's mine!" Lucas slurred, spitting at the glass. "She was mine five years ago, she's mine now!"
Armond's jaw tightened. That was it.
He opened the door. He stepped out, towering over Lucas. He didn't raise his fists. He didn't need to. He adjusted his cuffs, looking at Lucas with pure disgust.
"She was never yours," Armond said. "You were just a mistake she made. Now, she belongs to Emerson."
"You don't know what she is," Lucas sneered. "She's a liar."
"Get in your car and drive into a ditch for all I care," Armond said. "But if you come near her again, I will dismantle your life piece by piece."
Armond's security detail stepped out of the trailing SUV. Lucas looked at the muscle, then at Armond's icy glare. He spat on the ground, turned, and stumbled back to his car.
Armond got back into the limo. He slammed the door.
Kate was staring at him. "Thank you."
Armond turned to her. The restraint snapped. He grabbed her face, pulling her to him.
"I don't like other people touching my things," he growled. "Tell me. Do you still love him?"
Kate looked into his eyes. She saw the jealousy there. It terrified her, and it thrilled her.
"No," she whispered. "I hate him. I've always hated him."
Armond made a sound low in his throat. He kissed her again, deeper this time, possessive. He pushed her back against the leather seat, his hand sliding up her thigh, bunching the white dress.
Kate gasped, her hands tangling in his hair. For a moment, she forgot the lies. She forgot the secrets. There was only him.
The car slowed to a halt.
"Sir, we've arrived," the driver said.
Armond stopped. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged. He pulled her dress down, smoothing the fabric with a surprisingly gentle hand.
"Come upstairs," Armond said. He looked at her, his eyes dark. "Stay tonight."
It wasn't a question.
Kate looked at the Emerson Tower looming above them. If she stayed, she wouldn't be able to go home to Leo. She would have to make an excuse to the nanny.
But she needed to cement this alliance.
"Okay," she whispered.
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