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She rubbed her throbbing temples. “This is pointless.” He would never understand what Jonathan had done for her. She had been broken and lost after she left Las Vegas. Gavin’s betrayal had shattered her, and she had spent years alone because she was terrified to let anyone in. Jonathan healed her with his steadfast patience. He was a good man and an even better friend, one she had left behind.
“Do you love him?”
He was watching her with a predatory stillness that screamed danger.
Gavin stirred her emotions into a tangled, seething frenzy. The love she had for him had the power to destroy her and it had in the past. What she felt for Jonathan paled in comparison. It was sweet, gentle, and caring. Safe. That was how Jonathan made her feel. With Gavin, she had to go to war. Was it no wonder she clung to Jonathan? Gavin scared the shit out of her.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t love him.”
He stared at her for a long minute, almost as if he was weighing the truth in her answer before he held out a hand.
“Come here.”
She saw the beast getting riled and couldn’t find it in herself to care. It had been a shock to see Jonathan. It was normal to wonder about a different path. If Gavin had given her some fucking space, she would have worked this out on her own. But of course, Gavin didn’t give her time and was determined to prod her open wound.
“Come here, Lyla.”
“No. I want to shower.”
“I need you,” he said, his tone forceful and threatening instead of comforting and lover like.
“Later.”
She turned from him and slipped out of her clothes. There was no sound from him as she stepped into the shower. When she glanced back, she saw he was gone and breathed a sigh of relief. How the hell had this day gone so wrong? She got ready for the day with a spring in her step, and now she wished she’d never left the bed.
It wasn’t until she was wringing out her hair that a disturbing thought crossed her mind.
“Gavin!”
No answer. She slipped into her robe and dashed into the bedroom, which was empty. With a growing sense of panic, she rushed downstairs and burst through the doors of his office. He sat behind the desk, a phone to his ear.
“Don’t hurt him!” She rounded the desk and didn’t stop until she was pressed against him. “Don’t, Gavin!”
He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before he said, “I’ll call you back.”
He set the phone on the desk, folded his hands across his middle, and gave her his full attention. Every instinct she possessed told her to back away, but she stayed put.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked.
“I don’t see why I should tell you since you clearly don’t volunteer such information yourself,” he said softly.
She felt the hit, but didn’t acknowledge it. “Were you giving orders about Jonathan?”
He didn’t answer, which confirmed her fears.
“Gavin, you can’t—”
“I can do whatever I want,” he interrupted silkily.
“But he didn’t do anything—”
“He touched you.”
“What?”
He rose from his seat. She couldn’t stop herself from taking a step back. His control slipped enough for her to get a glimpse of his icy rage before his expression smoothed back into placid lines.
“He knows what it feels like to be inside you,” he said quietly as he stalked her. “He knows what you taste like. That’s why he ran after you today. He thought there was a chance to get you back even though you left him. He knows who you are now. He won’t stop.”
