What He Guards (What He Wants, Book Twelve) (2 page)

“Do you understand,” I said, “how much it
would kill me to lose you?
 
What
will happen to me if you go to jail, Noah?
 
What will I… how will I…” I felt myself getting choked up,
and I struggled to keep myself calm.
 

“I’m not going to jail.”

“You keep saying that.
 
But you don’t know, Noah.
 
No one knows.
 
We have to do this on our own.”
 

His eyes searched mine, exploring,
probing for any weakness, any sign that I would change my mind.
 
But I kept my fear for my own safety
tamped down, struggling not to show him how scared I was.
 
It was torturous, trying to have that
kind of self-control over my emotions, and I wondered if this was how his
damaged mind felt all the time.
 

It made me feel like I finally understood
a small part of him.
 

I didn’t want to think about how hard I’d
had to work for just that tiny little piece.
 

So instead I leaned into him.
 

“You need to take me to Force tonight,” I
said softly.
 
He recoiled, but I
kept talking before he could protest.
  
“Please, Noah. It’s the only way.
 
He’s after me no matter what.
 
At least this way, we have a chance of
stopping him.”

His hands tightened on mine, his fingers
gripping me so hard it hurt.
 
But I
didn’t pull away.
 
I stayed
strong.
 

“And you won’t be able to protect me if
you’re locked up.”

He shook his head, but it wasn’t that he
was saying no – it was more in wonder, like he couldn’t believe the
situation we were in, couldn’t believe the choices he’d been presented with.

I wanted to tell him I loved him, wanted
to tell him if I lost him it would destroy me, that there was no other man I
could imagine being with, ever.
 
I’d already fallen for him and I’d barely scratched the surface in
getting to know him, in the two of us exploring each other, pushing our limits,
becoming entwined.

“Charlotte,” he said, his voice
soft.
 
His hand moved back to my
face, his thumb trailing over my jaw.

“Say yes,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes for a long moment.

And when he opened them, there was
nothing there but steely determination.
 
“Yes.”

***

He wouldn’t allow me to go to class.

Instead, he demanded I accompany him to
the office.

“You do realize my education is
important,” I said as we stepped out of the car in front of his building.

The sun was high in the sky, and I titled
my chin up, letting the warm rays kiss my skin. Being out on the streets of New
York instead of stuck inside my tiny apartment was inexplicably soothing.
 
Being outside should have made me feel
more exposed, more vulnerable, but it was having the opposite effect.
 
Out here, with all the people and
activity and sunshine, I somehow felt like no one could hurt me.

“We’re going to have to do something
about this arrangement,” I said.

“What arrangement?”

“The arrangement where you don’t let me
go to school.”
 
We were walking
through the lobby now, and Noah breezed through security with a curt nod at the
guard.
 
I followed him to the
elevator bank and he pushed the button for his floor.

“You agreed I was in charge of you.”
 

“And you agreed to let me go to school.”

“Rules are fluid, Charlotte, constantly
changing to fit specific situations.”
 
He glanced over at me.
 
I
was still wearing his sweater, and I pulled at it self-consciously.
 
He looked as gorgeous as ever, his
dark suit
still impeccable, his hair mussed in that
just-had-sex kind of way that made him irresistibly sexy.
 
His perfection was extremely
intimidating.
  
“You’ll feel
better once you sign something.”

“Once I sign something?”

“Yes, Charlotte, once you sign a
contract agreeing
to be mine.”

“I already signed a contract,” I
grumbled, thinking of the one he’d torn up in Force that night.

He glanced over at me.
  
“Don’t push me, Charlotte.
 
It’s been a long morning, and I am
barely hanging on to my anger.”

I swallowed, stepping out of the elevator
and following him down the hall and past the receptionist desk.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cutler,” the
receptionist said pleasantly as we passed.
 
It was a different girl than the one who’d been there
before.
 
Her blonde hair was pulled
back in a sleek ponytail, her makeup perfectly applied.
 
She was wearing a grey suit with a
cream-colored shell that dipped down a bit in the front, exposing an eyeful of
cleavage.

“Good afternoon,” Noah said back.

The receptionist didn’t acknowledge
me.
 
But I saw the puppy dog eyes
she gave Noah, the look of longing on her face as he walked past.

I suddenly felt overgrown and gargantuan,
becoming self-conscious in my oversized sweater and jeans.

“She’s cute,” I said irritably.

“Who?”

“Who?
 
Don’t act like you didn’t hire her because she’s gorgeous,
Noah.”

“Are you talking about Dylan?”

“Dylan?
 
That’s her name?
 
How adorable.”

“Charlotte, there is no need to be
jealous of the receptionist.”

“Couldn’t you have hired someone a little
older?
 
Like a retired grandmother
or something?”

We stepped into his office and he set his
briefcase down on his desk.
 
“I’m
not in charge of hiring anyone, Charlotte.
 
Human resources
is
.”

“But they know what you like.”

“They know I like smart, intelligent,
capable employees.”

“Who are nice to look at.
”

“The only one I’m looking at is you.”

I flushed and nodded.
 
I hated that even with everything that
was going on,
I could still be so easily thrown off balance
by another woman
.
 
I wanted
to ask Noah what happened to the other receptionist, the one he had before her,
but I didn’t want to pry.
 

“What happened to the other one?” I
blurted before I could stop myself.

“The other one what?” Noah asked,
distracted.
 
He was already in work
mode, his hands on his laptop as he scrolled through his emails.

“The other receptionist.”

“She didn’t work out.”

His tone made it clear the subject was
closed.

I didn’t like not having a definitive
answer, especially after what had happened to Katie, but I wasn’t going to push
him.
 
I’d pushed my luck so much
this morning that a receptionist wasn’t important enough to risk Noah’s wrath.

But I hated that he would keep things
from me, even something as silly as why he’d fired a receptionist.
 
Or had she quit?
 
That was the problem.
 
I would never know, and if I asked him
again, he would accuse me of not trusting him.

But you don’t trust him.

But the crazy thing was, I
did
trust him.

Didn’t I?

My mind felt like it was on a constant
merry-go-round, swinging in circles, faster and faster, everything blazing by
in a smudge of confusion.
 
I just
didn’t understand why Noah couldn’t tell me something as simple as why his
receptionist wasn’t working there anymore.
 
Was there something he was hiding from me, or was he really
just so shut off that everything needed to be pried from him?

I wanted more.
 
I
needed
more.
 

“Charlotte, don’t you have work to do?”
he barked at me.
 
“All this talk
and worry about missing class, surely you have some reading to catch up on.”

“Oh, um, yes,” I said.
 
I pulled out my iPad and checked my
syllabus for the day’s reading.
 
I
would need to get the notes from someone.
 
Cora, perhaps.
 

I started to read, but it felt odd
sitting right in front of Noah’s desk like we were in some kind of
meeting.
 
So I took my iPad and
moved to the sofa on the other side of the room.

“I don’t like you so far away,” Noah
growled.

“I’m only on the other side of the room.”

He sighed but turned back to his
computer, evidently deciding to allow it.

We worked like that for a few hours, both
of us in our own worlds.
 
I caught
up on my reading, began writing a paper, made plans to meet with a study
group.
 
Noah wrote briefs, made
phone calls, set up meetings.
 
His
voice on the phone was always stern and impatient, and when he typed his
keystrokes were loud and forceful.

The sounds faded into the background, and
I lost myself in case studies and review sheets.
 
I highlighted and made notes, letting myself become immersed
in the security and normalness of my academics.
 
The light moved lower in the sky as the time passed, the
angle of the sun casting stripes of light onto the carpet.

At around five, there was a knock on the
door.

I jumped.
 

“Relax, Charlotte,” Noah said, giving me
an amused grin.
 
“
It’s
just Shonda.”

Shonda?
 
Who the hell was Shonda?
 
I wanted to ask, but Noah was already crossing the room and
opening the door.

A woman stood in the hallway.
 
She looked to be in her early forties,
with long white blonde hair and dark almond shapes eyes.
 
Her face was powdered pale white, her eyebrows
dark and pronounced, her lips lined in a shade of magenta I’d never seen
outside of a fashion spread or a music video.

“Mr. Cutler,” she said, nodding.
 
Her voice was deep, raspy, which
contrasted with her delicate features and abundance of make-up.

“Hello, Shonda,” he said.
 

She peeked into the room and saw me
sitting on the couch.
 
“Is that
her?”

“Yes, this is Charlotte,” he said.
 
“She’ll meet you in the executive
bathroom in five minutes.”

Shonda gave a curt nod and then turned
and walked down the hallway, rolling a heavy black suitcase behind her.

“Who was that?” I asked, panicked.

“Shonda.”

“Yes, I know Shonda,” I said, not in the
mood for Noah’s one-word answers and vague replies.
 
“But who is she?
 
What is she doing here?
 
Why
do I have to meet her in some executive bathroom?”

“Shonda is here to help you get ready for
tonight.”

“Get ready for tonight?” I repeated, and
frowned.
 
“You mean like, she’s
going to do my hair?”

“Among other things.”
 
Noah returned to his desk and began
going through a file folder, signaling that the conversation was over.

“Oh.”
 
I stood up and twisted my hands in front of me, my leg
jittering nervously.

“Yes, Charlotte?” Noah said.
 
“What is it?”

“I just… you think I need a
makeover?”
 

He looked up at me, then set his pen down
and crossed the room to where I was standing by the couch.
 
He took my chin in his hand, tilted it
up so that I was forced to look him in the eye.
 

“No,” he said.
 
“I do not think you need a makeover.”

“Because it seems like…just that you
might not… you think I need a lot of work or something.”

“Charlotte,” he said softly, and my heart
clenched at the way he said my name, so full of emotion and longing.
 
I hungered for him to tell me he loved
me again.
 
He’d only said it that
one time, and even though it had just been last night, I craved the
reassurance.
 
He was so hot and
cold with me, I never knew where I stood, and I grasped at the moments he let
me in like water in the dessert.