He didn’t answer or even slow down. He kept walking like I hadn’t called his na.
I ran after him, my bare feet slapping against the pavent because I’d lost one of my heels sowhere between the bus stop and the police station and had kicked off the other one in the holding cell. "Hansel, please! I need to talk to you!"
He ignored .
When he reached the building entrance, the doorman opened it imdiately, greeting him with a respectful nod while barely glancing at as I hurried through behind him.
We got into the elevator together, and I stood there breathing hard from running and watching him ignore with such deliberate focus that it felt like another slap. He stared straight ahead at the polished tal doors, his jaw set and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and I wanted to scream at him or shake him or do sothing to make him acknowledge that I existed.
But all I could do was shift from foot to foot, unsure of what to say.
When the elevator reached his floor, and the doors opened, he strode out, and I followed because where else was I supposed to go? We reached his penthouse door, and he unlocked it, pushed it open, and walked inside without holding it for .
I caught it before it could close in my face and rushed in after him, my patience finally running out.
"Hansel!" I reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him back with all the strength I had left.
He spun around, and the fury in his eyes made take an instinctive step back. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping, and when he spoke, his voice ca out as a yell that echoed through the penthouse.
"What?!"
I curled back, my shoulders hunching as fear shot through at the violence in that single word. "Why are you angry with ?" My voice ca out small and shaky. "I haven’t done anything wrong."
"Yeah?" He laughed bitterly.
He stared at for a few more seconds before the fight disappeared from his eyes. He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly.
"Go take a bath, you reek."
Then he turned and started walking away.
That act registered sothing strange in . All the fear, confusion and exhaustion turned into fury, and I found myself running after him again, grabbing his arm and pulling him back with enough force that he actually stopped.
"Why?" The word ca out as almost a sob. "Why are you torturing like this? You show kindness one mont and then hatred the next. You confuse , Mr Ward. You save from being arrested and pay off my debts, then you won’t even look at or talk to . I don’t understand why we’re still involved with each other when it’s so clear that you don’t like !"
He turned slowly, and a dangerous expression flickered across his face.
Before I could react, he walked back to , backing up until my back hit the wall. His hand shot out and grabbed my throat, not tightly or to choke . He just held , staring at intently.
The impact knocked the air from my lungs, and I found myself pinned between cold drywall and Hansel’s hard body, his hand on my throat keeping exactly where he wanted . His face was inches from mine, close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes and feel his breath against my lips.
"You belong to now, Naya Rivers." He said in a low voice that vibrated through in a way that should have terrified , but instead sent heat pooling low in my belly. "The stunt you pulled last night, disappearing, making worry, making search the entire city for you, don’t ever try it again. If you give a reason to worry about you like that again, you’ll regret it. Do you understand?"
I stared up at him, my heart hamring so hard I was sure he could feel it through his palm against my throat. The rational part of my brain was screaming at to be afraid, to push him away, to run. But the rest of —the part that was hyperaware of how his body felt pressed against mine, of the heat radiating from him, of the way his thumb was stroking absent patterns against my pulse point—that part wanted to lean into him instead.
"Why?" The word ca out breathy, almost a whisper. "Why do you worry about ?"
The question hung in the air between us, and I watched sothing shift in his expression. The anger faded slightly, replaced by sothing more complicated—confusion, maybe, or frustration, or sothing else I couldn’t na. His eyes dropped to my lips for just a second before snapping back up to et mine, and I felt his hand tighten fractionally on my throat.
The tension was so thick I could barely breathe through it, and part of wondered if he was going to kiss or yell at or stand there holding against the wall until one of us actually initiated the kiss.
Then he pulled back abruptly, releasing my throat and taking several steps away, as if being close to him burned him.
He stared at for several long seconds, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to keep them still.
"Freshen up," he said finally, his voice rough. "We’ll talk tomorrow."
Then he turned and walked toward his bedroom, leaving sagging against the wall, my heart racing and my skin tingling where his hand had been, with absolutely no idea what had just happened or what it ant.
The only thing I knew for sure was that I belonged to him now.
And I wasn’t sure if that terrified or thrilled .
Maybe both.
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