"Stay away from me, Drew!" She stepped up to him, snapping the order into his face, baring her teeth as rage began to tear through her. "Stay away from me or I'll have a restraining order placed against you. I won't tell you a second time."
She pushed past him as he suddenly stepped back, surprising her. She swept through the doors, hailing a cab that just happened to be passing and stepping into it quickly. She was shaking, furious.
He had asked Chase to be his third, and Chase had never told her? She wanted to cover her face in mortification. Whether because he had asked, or because Chase had turned him down, she couldn't decide.
She felt humiliated to the very core of her being and prayed now that she didn't see Chase anytime soon. God, how messed up could her life get?
Khalid stepped up to Drew Stanton slowly from where he had stood in an alcove, his gaze unblinking, his expression still and calm; he made certain of it.
The smaller man paled, rather as he had done the night he had attempted to rape his wife and found the point of Khalid's dagger against his throat.
Khalid had agreed to be his third once. Once, because Drew's wife had that latent, unawakened sensuality that always attracted Khalid.
If he'd wondered about Drew giving him the key to the apartment and the time to arrive, then Khalid hadn't questioned it. Each member of Ian Sinclair's men's club had his own way of handling such affairs, just as Khalid did.
When he arrived, Kia had appeared lost in the pleasure her husband had been giving her. As Khalid joined, it hadn't taken long to learn that pleasure was drunkenness, and when she realized another man had touched her, hysteria had filled her.
He couldn't blame her. He thanked God daily that Stanton had heeded the point of Khalid's dagger and never revealed who his third was that night.
"I wasn't bothering her." Drew dampened his lips nervously as his back came against the wall.
Khalid stopped.
"I can have you killed slowly," he whispered to him then. "Stolen from your bed, taken to a desert that will never know your name, and tortured until you beg for hell. Do you want this, little man?" he insulted him.
Drew paled alarmingly.
"You have harmed her enough," Khalid stated.
"She's my wife."
Khalid smiled slowly. "You wish to see hell?"
Drew shook his head quickly.
"Then heed my warning. Heed it well. Because we both know, worm, I would have no problem cutting your balls off and feeding them to my pets. Don't we?"
He didn't wait for a response. He moved to the doors instead and left the restaurant as his limo pulled up to the curb.
Sliding into the back he looked into the rearview mirror where his chauffeur watched him.
"Ms. Rutherford's apartment building, Abdul. It seems I have some business there."
Abdul nodded and the limo slid smoothly from the curb. Perhaps, Khalid thought, he should have just killed Drew Stanton when he had the proper excuse. Now that messy conscience of his would just bother Khalid.
For a day or two.
Chapter 8
Chase slammed the file drawer closed, ignoring his twin's amusement, before he paced back to his desk and sat down heavily. He opened the next file, but damned if he could see a word he was reading. All he could think about was Kia. That damned stoic, somber look on her face the last time he'd seen her. Her gaze had been quiet; there hadn't even been anger there, just this prideful acceptance that he wasn't going to stay.
"You know, Marcy Stephens bragged quite horribly about the nights you and Cameron spent in her bed. She swears Cameron was the one who escaped moments after his release and you were the one who petted her through the night. She must have managed to get the two of you mixed up."
His jaw clenched as he remembered the quiet accusation in her voice. He had stayed and held the others through the night, so why couldn't he hold her?
Because he was a damned fool, that was exactly why. Because Kia was like a train wreck waiting to happen to his heart. He couldn't stay the hell away from her, but that didn't mean he had to make things worse by allowing feelings to develop.
Keep it on the physical level, he told himself. Keep emotion out of it and neither of them was going to get hurt.
So why the hell did he feel like the biggest bastard walking because he hadn't called her? Because she hadn't been at that damned dinner the night before he spent the night with her. Because he hadn't asked her to join him and his friends later in the week.
Because he knew he wanted her with him, and he couldn't make himself make the call.
As he sat there mentally kicking himself, the door opened and Ian walked in. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it as Chase lifted his head and glared back.
Ian frowned.
"I'm certain I should blame you for this," he said casually. "I'll find a way to prove it's your fault, Chase."
Chase closed the file and folded his hands on top of it, looking back at his employer with an attempt at politeness.
"What did he do this time?" Cameron asked Ian almost gleefully. "Do we get to flog him?"
"Grow up," Chase snapped back at Cameron.
Ian snorted. "Courtney went shopping today."
Chase grunted at that. "It's not my fault she goes shopping."
"No, but it's entirely your fault, I'm quiet certain of it, that she called me and asked me to please tell you to check your e-mail. Now, my wife is plotting, planning, and conniving, and I'm going to blame you."
Chase felt his balls tighten in fear. Anytime Courtney plotted, planned, or connived, a man needed to be terrified.
He turned to his computer, pulled up the e-mail, and clicked on her message.
This is what she bought at our shopping trip. Won't she look just luscious? And there was an attachment.
Chase clicked the attachment as though it were viral. It opened, the thumbnail pictures causing his heart to begin beating a harsh tattoo as Cameron and Ian moved behind him.
The lingerie was so sinful he was going to explode. Red and black, virginal white, and a deep sapphire blue. Camisettes and camisoles, bustiers and corsets and panties so delicate he swore he could feel a fine film of sweat on his brow as he saw the pictures someone had taken with her cell phone.
And her expression as she chose the items. A little distant, a sensual smile tipping her lips, as though she were imagining what her lover would think.