Page 82 of Ruthless Protector

I gripped my bag so tight I started to lose feeling in my fingers. A flash of memory of the night before, cuffed to my bed, Jude looking down at me as he undid them, as he rubbed away the pins and needles, fired through me, sending zaps of electricity through my belly.

Tomas’ butler…servant…house dude? Whatever the hell he was, he stopped by an open door and motioned me to go in. “Mr. Mendoza will be with you shortly.”

“Right, thanks.” I walked into the large room, a library. The room was all dark wood and leather bound books. I never would have taken the guy for a lover of the classics. Probably just for show.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I turned to Tomas’ man servant guy. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

The guy dipped his chin and shuffled off.

There was a large desk at one end of the room, beside a pair of large sash windows. I could see fine wire embedded in the glass and when I looked around, spotted more than one camera. Not surprising, the security would be intense for a guy like Tomas, the kind of man who would have more than a few enemies.

Fighting down my nerves, I waited for the crime boss to arrive.

I heard footsteps, someone’s shoes hitting the marble floor, and turned. Tomas was dressed in dark trousers, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up his tattooed forearms. His hair looked a little mussed, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his dark—God, black—eyes were on me, probing. I took a startled step back before I could stop myself.

He walked in, and that’s when I got a good look at his expression. He was seriously on edge. “What’s going on, is it Stephanie?”

I blinked at him. I was so nervous, it took me a minute to work out what he’d said. “Stephanie?”

His mouth flattened.

“Oh, Steph.” I quickly shook my head. “No. No, she’s fine. That’s not…she’s not why I’m here.”

His nostrils flared, and I watched his expression smooth out, as whatever I’d seen vanished, and those black eyes sharpened.

“You better take a seat.”

I did as he asked, while he moved behind the desk and sat as well. He leaned back in his leather chair, his stare not wavering from me.

The guy was kind of terrifying, the intensity he threw off made it hard to think straight, to get the words right. Which was the goal since I wanted him to agree to my request, and not laugh me out of his house.

He was still staring at me, waiting for me to spit it out, and I shifted in my seat, that dark gaze making me even more nervous.

“This is business?” he asked, not moving, like some kind of handsome, terrifying statue.

“Yes.”

“You do realize this is my home?” He tilted his head to the side, like a predator ready to pounce the moment I moved. “I don’t conduct business here. Ever.”

I winced. Great start, Willa. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Who told you where I live?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “People talk, I well, I…”

His flat stare sharpened again.

I didn’t think giving him names was a great idea. “Like I said, people talk…I overheard…I, ah, can’t remember who it was.”

He smirked. “You’re loyal.”

“I think so.”

“I can appreciate that.”

As much as I wanted to believe he was dropping it, that he’d ignore the fact that someone had blabbed, I knew better. A man like Tomas wouldn’t be where he was today by letting things go.