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“Tough shit,” I shot back, blocking her path as she tried to move around me. I grabbed her by the arms, my grip firm. “You’re going to hear what I have to say.”
Erika’s eyes flashed with anger and a flicker of fear. “You’re hurting me.”
I loosened my hold but didn’t let go. “I’m not your father.”
Her face twisted in confusion and rage. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I won’t turn into him. I would never hurt you the way he hurt your mother.”
“They hurt each other,” she spat, her voice trembling. “It was a bloodbath, and I don’t want any part of it.”
I pulled her against me, holding her tightly, my lips brushing the top of her head. “I’m not them, Erika. We’re not them.”
She remained stiff in my arms, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. But she didn’t push me away. The fight in her seemed to ebb as she let out a long, shuddering sigh.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to end up like them.”
“We won’t,” I promised, my voice resolute. “I love you, and I’m not going to let fear ruin this.”
“I believe you,” she whispered, her voice softening. “But I can’t promise I won’t change my mind.”
“You just have to trust me,” I said, my tone firm but tender. “And stop trying to make me jealous with your assistant.”
“We’re close,” she replied, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
“Close enough to feed him? Or was that just for my benefit?”
“A little of both,” she admitted, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“You’re mine,” I said, my voice low and possessive. “I told you that before. I’ll fight for you.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor.
“We need to work together, not against each other.” I pressed my lips to the top of her head, breathing in the familiar vanilla scent of her shampoo. There was no doubt in my mind—I was in love with Erika.
“Have dinner at my apartment tonight,” I suggested, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.
“I’m involved in a negotiation,” she replied, her voice tinged with regret.
As if to emphasize her point, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She hesitated, then ignored it until it silenced. But a few seconds later, it buzzed again.
“Take it,” I said, releasing her from my hold. “I have agents to deal with. We can talk later. Find me before you leave.”
She nodded, fishing her phone out of her pocket as I unlocked the bedroom door. As she answered the call, I slipped out, leaving her to her work. My mind was already racing ahead, planning how to make things right between us.
Erika lingered in the apartment long after the other agents had left, her eyes glazed over with the exhaustion of a long day. She perched on the red contemporary sofa in the living room, her phone pressed to her ear as she negotiated with another agent. Meanwhile, I busied myself in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the day. As I finished my final sweep, she ended her call and leaned back against the sofa, looking drained.
“Are you finished?” I asked, buttoning up my brown jacket.
“For now,” she sighed. “You know how this is. We agreed on a price, but now the fun starts.”
“Do you have anything else going on today?”
She shrugged. “Just paperwork. No showings until three.”
“Can I interest you in a snack?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion creeping into her voice. “What type of snack? The kind that requires us to remove clothing?”
