Dangerous: Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance) (10 page)

“Okay, I’ll… call you when it’s ready.”

“Need a hand with anything?”

I blinked twice before I managed to pick up my jaw. Had Blaine Steel just offered to
help
me? In the kitchen, of all places? Not at all something I would have expected from the bad boy stereotype he otherwise seemed to fit so perfectly.

“Er, no thanks, that’s all right. It won’t take me long,” I finally managed. “Thank you, though.”

He shrugged and turned around, leaving me to stare after him as he disappeared up the stairs.

As much as I’d been surprised by Blaine’s offer, I desperately needed some time to get myself together again before I spent any length of time with him. This was the first time I’d get a chance to work on getting him to eventually trust me, and I needed to keep my wits about me for that.

I spent the time the lasagna was in the oven on setting the new dining table as prettily as I could. I was pretty sure Blaine’s offer of eating together came from seeing my efforts to decorate the house and be a good little homemaker, so I wanted to nurture that part as much as possible. Thankfully, I’d bought some really pretty plates from an antique store with an online shop to go with the tea set, so the table had a nice splash of color even though I’d not thought to get any flowers. I briefly considered popping into the garden to cut a few of the last autumn blooms I’d seen through the window, but decided against it since it was already too dark to see much.

Instead, I placed some of the candles I’d bought around the window ledges and on the table. Once they were lit and the food was on the table, I stepped back to admire my handiwork.

The lasagna smelled gorgeous, and the candles sent a warm glow through the room, emphasizing the colorful plates and intimate atmosphere I was hoping to bring out. Yup, this looked exactly like something a dedicated wife would set out for her hardworking husband. Part one of my plan was complete.

I went to the stairs to call for Blaine, and then went back into the dining room and took a seat. I felt oddly nervous as I waited for him—but of course, my entire future did depend on this going right. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans just as Blaine came in, and offered him a smile I hoped didn’t reflect my nerves.

He looked around the room slowly, from the candlelight reflecting off the dark windows to the set table, and finally to me.

“I got a few things,” I said, worried he’d mind all the money I’d spent on decor. “To make it more homey.”

“Yeah, I saw the credit card statement.” He sat down on the opposite side of the table. “Food looks good.”

Of course he had checked what I bought. I bit my lip, suddenly regretting my week-long shopping spree. “I’m sorry if it was too much.”

“It’s fine.” Blaine grabbed the serving knife and cut a large slice out of the lasagna. He followed up with a generous helping from the salad bowl and then handed me the plate. “To be honest, I’m surprise there’re not any expensive handbags or shoes on that statement.”

I took the plate he was handing me, too surprised with his statement to wonder why he was plating my food for me. “Uh, I’m not expecting you to pick up the bill for my clothes shopping.”

Blaine sighed, pausing with his hand on the serving knife in the middle of cutting out his own slice of lasagna. “Can we please not have another fight about how you want to be independent? I’m your husband, and you can’t work—I’ll be paying for your clothes, along with the household supplies and anything else you’ll need.”

“Oh.” A part of me did want to argue, to lament on how this whole arrangement was fucked up and how I wanted to be able to support myself. But that would have defeated the purpose of the night, so instead I just sent him a sweet smile. “Gotcha. I’ll be sure to add a few pairs of Louboutins to next week’s shop. To make you happy, of course.”

Blaine snorted as he returned to filling his plate. “Cheers, love. Appreciate it.”

His dry tone made an unexpected snicker burst out before I could stop myself, but when I glanced at Blaine’s face, a mildly teasing smile touched his soft mouth.

“So you
do
laugh. I was beginning to wonder.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Yes, I’ve been dragging your good mood right down with my sulking, haven’t I? And you, who are nothing but easy smiles and giggles.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up higher. “Sassy ‘til the end. If you’re not careful, I’ll start to enjoy your lip.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, returning my focus to the food when I could feel my face heating up again. Getting any sort of proper conversation started was going to be really difficult, if I couldn’t even keep eye contact without lighting up like a fluorescent tomato. Not for the first time, I silently cursed at my inability to control my ovaries’ inexplicable freak-outs around Blaine Steel.

But if I wanted to get him to trust me, then I needed to talk to him.

After about five minutes of the only sound in the room being the scraping of cutlery against plates, I looked back up at my dinner companion. He didn’t stop eating, but I could tell from the way his eyebrows shot up that he was aware I was looking at him.

“So… are any of your brothers married?” It was the first thing that popped into my head, partly because the only time he’d been even remotely open with me before was when he’d mentioned his family in our session.

“Didn’t take you for the smalltalk type, Mira.” He didn’t look up from the meal as he spoke, but his voice didn’t carry any note of warning, so I figured it was a green light to proceed.

“You said yourself we should try to get along, and it’s a lot easier if we know a bit about each other, don’t you think?” My own tone was light and calm. Why was it so much easier to act like an adult rather than a hormone-addled teenager as soon as he wasn’t looking at me? “Besides, it doesn’t have to be small talk. I may not know much about you, but I do know your family is important to you.”

He finally looked up then, a sharp gleam of something dark in his storm gray eyes, but it was gone before I could fully process it.

“You know how it is. Family is everything in this business. And no, none of my brothers are married. I was the first to be sacrificed on the marital alter. What about you? Any of your brothers married?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It’s not like I’ve kept in touch. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about them.”

He nodded, picking at his salad with his fork. “Sure. Guess you’re pretty pissed at them for making you get hitched, huh?”

I shrugged, opting to deflect rather than respond. “So I take it you’re the oldest, since you’re the one who got chosen to get married off for the business’ sake? You said you had five brothers, right?”

Blaine grunted. “I’m the third oldest. You would have seen Marcus and the twins at the wedding—they’re all younger than me. Jeremy and Isaac were… indisposed, so I was up.”

“Oh.” Something he’d said in our session together niggled at the forefront of my mind, and I frowned. “You said one of your brothers went to prison. I assume that was either Jeremy or Isaac, then?”

He finally looked up from his plate then, but the anger that flashed in his steely gaze made me wish he hadn’t.

And then it dawned on me—I’d referenced something from probably the only time in recent history that Blaine Steel had allowed himself to be vulnerable.
I
had witnessed a rare slip in his carefree, all-powerful façade, and it didn’t take a psychology degree to know that he’d regretted it the moment it happened, the way he acted toward me after. And now I’d been stupid enough to remind him.

Perhaps an appropriate response would have been to pretend like I didn’t notice the way his knuckles whitened around his grip on the fork, or the murderous glare he was leveling at me. Or maybe even outright fear and a stuttered apology would have been a good option.

In hindsight, pretty much anything other than what I did would have been a good choice.

“Oh, give me a
break
! What, so I have to pretend like I don’t know one of your brothers is in jail? Is your ego really
that
fragile, Blaine?” I tossed my fork and knife down on the table, overwhelmed with frustration. “So you’ve got issues with your family—big deal! It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone the big, scary crime lord went to see a therapist, so you can knock that glaring right off.”

“You should learn respect.” Blaine’s voice was a low growl, the threat in his words emphasized perfectly by the deep rumble. “And I don’t
ever
want to hear you talk about that again, are we clear?”

“Are we
clear?
Yeah, I guess we are. It’s perfectly clear to me that you have zero respect for anyone but yourself, you sexist prick!
I
should learn respect? How about you earn it, for once in your life?” I didn’t know when I’d gotten out of my seat, but when Blaine pushed back his chair with a loud screeching to stand up on the other side of the table, I realized I was already standing up myself, leaning over the table to shout at him.

“
Watch it.”
Blaine’s otherwise light gray eyes were nearly black with rage as he put both hands on the table and leaned in so he could glower down at me from his much higher vantage point. “I’ve been more than accommodating with you up until now. Push me one more time, I fucking dare you.”

I have no idea what idiotic demon possessed me then, but the next thing I knew, I’d grabbed my half-empty wine glass. My arm was midway through the slinging motion before my sanity snapped at least somewhat back, and I looked on as if watching a movie on half speed as the red wine I’d been sipping throughout the meal sailed through the air and connected with Blaine’s face.

Three seconds passed in complete silence as I stared at him. My own anger was still boiling underneath the surface, but the absolute murderous rage in Blaine’s eyes as he stared me down with wine dripping from his chin made me realize I’d made a mistake. A really, really big mistake.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know why I… did that.” My apology died into a whisper when Blaine slowly raised one large hand to wipe the red liquid off his face, and then cracked his neck without taking his eyes off me, or even blinking.

Survival instincts—finally—kicked in, and my brain quickly abandoned “
fight”
mode, opting instead for the much wiser “
flight”
option. I spun around on my heel and practically threw myself across the dining room, grabbing on to the door frame to turn the corner as fast as possible.

Behind me, the loud screeching of a chair being kicked out of the way made my already frantic heart jolt into overdrive. Its pounding against my ribs matched my feet’s pace as I ran as fast as I could down the hallway to the stairs. I didn’t think of what would happen once I reached my room—all I knew was that I needed to put as much distance between myself and the lethal killer chasing me, and that one room was the only place my panicked brain connected with any shred of safety.

I made it to the top of the first flight of stairs, but when I grasped on to the banister to reach the next level, he caught me.

Strong hands grabbed around my hips and
pulled,
and I was yanked backward so roughly I completely lost my footing.

I yelped as I flew through the air, arms flailing for purchase, and then I was on my back on the landing outside Blaine’s room, my impact with the hard wooden floor thankfully softened somewhat by the thick rug I’d had Greg put there earlier today.

I didn’t have many moments to be thankful for my design decision. Less than two seconds after I was on my back on the floor, Blaine crouched over me, pinning my wrists next to my head with his large hands while my lower body was strapped down by his knees. I was trapped.

“Let me go!” I pulled uselessly on my hands and tried to shift my hips to throw him off me, but I might as well have tried to dislodge a boulder.

Blaine growled, sounding so much like an enraged animal that I couldn’t hold back a small whimper. He was so much stronger than me, he could rip me apart with his bare hands if he wanted—and right now, it very much looked like he wanted.

Yet deep down, something in my core—something undoubtedly really stupid—didn’t believe he would actually hurt me. The startling moment that thought rooted itself in my stomach was strong enough to pull me out of my fear

Blaine stared down at me, his chest heaving as hard as mine and his face drawn in a mask of anger. And suddenly, it all seemed so completely ridiculous. I, a trained psychologist, for crying out loud, had resorted to throwing wine in a man’s face. And he, a scary-ass criminal, had chased me down and was now pinning me to the floor. We seemed to have reached a thorough stalemate.

The amused giggle slipped out of my mouth before I managed to stop it.

“Sorry, sorry,” I gasped in between my still labored breathing. My giggles died down as I stared up into his dark eyes. Behind his fury there was something else. It took me several seconds to realize that it was a glimpse of what lay behind his normally impenetrable shields. For a few, short moments, I saw past the smartarse, the ruthlessness he normally wore like a mask.

It only lasted a few second. Then raw and unbridled lust washed away anything and everything else, and his lips crashed against mine.