AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have relented until you changed your mind,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re mine, Eve. All mine. Forever.”
Some distant part of me knows I should be alarmed by this, but as I sit in his arms, his strength and protection encapsulating me and his rich purr rumbling through my body, all I feel is contentment.
Clearly pleased, Adam deepens his purr and covers my lower abdomen with a large hand. He keeps it there for the rest of the drive.
EIGHTEEN
ALL THE TRIMMINGS
The next morning, I wake in my bed alone.
I frown into the darkness, momentarily confused by the lack of being wrapped up in warm arms corded with thick muscle. It apparently only took me two days to grow accustomed to not waking up alone.
Real pathetic, Eve.
I’m annoyed at myself for the unsettled feeling clenching at my gut at Adam’s absence, because wow, did I not take myself for being the kind of girl who’ll grow dependent on her boyfriend intwo damn days,but here we are.
I push the irritation aside, climb out of bed and pad down the stairs in my PJs.
I find him pacing in my living room, his phone pressed to one ear and an irritated scowl on his face. The room is so small—and he’s so huge—it only takes him three strides to cross from one end to the other.
“…I don’t fucking care. Get a security team here in no more than ten fucking minutes, and then find the reporter responsible,” he snarls.
“What’s going on?” I ask, unease creeping up my spine as the scent of his anger hits my nostrils.Ugh.Angry alpha isthemost unpleasant stench on the damn planet. It’s not that he smells bad—I don’t think I’d find his natural scent bad even after a hard session at the gym—but my biology is hardwired to cower and placate an aggressive alpha, and there’s nothing I can do to stop my nervous system from firing off alarms.
Adam turns to me, phone still pressed to one ear. He takes one look at my anxious face, hangs up without another word to the person on the other end of the line, and strides back across the floor to pull me against his chest.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about, darling,” he rumbles, petting my messy hair. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Okay, but like… what’s gotten you this riled up?” I ask, fighting back against his hold to free my face from his cashmere sweater. “Why does a security team need to come here?”
Adam lets me pull back enough so I can meet his eyes, then strokes my chin with his knuckle. “It’s just a precaution. Some sorry excuse for a reporter snapped a picture of us when we were walking out of the bank together yesterday and blasted it all over the internet.”
I blink up at him. “Uh, what? Why would someone do that?”
The answer is obvious—because I’m dating a freakin’ billionaire business mogul, even though I conveniently keep forgetting that when it’s just the two of us—but I can’t fully wrap my mind around why anyone would care who he’s dating. Or why that means we suddenly need a security team.
“Because people have way too much time on their hands and way too little going on in their own lives,” he growls. “I don’t care when they spread my picture for the vultures to feed on, but mymate?Who knows what kind of psycho will see us together and decide you look vulnerable enough to take on?”
I very studiously avoid making any sort of comments about what kind of psycho already found me vulnerable enough that he broke into my home. He doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood for zingers.
“It’ll be fine.” I gently pat his chest, indicating I want to be released. He doesn’t relent until I put more force behind my arms to push away, giving me an annoyed grumble as I step back. “Why don’t I make us some coffee? Once we’ve had some breakfast, I’m sure it won’t seem as stressful.”
I’m incredibly,shockingly wrong.
Adam’s security team arrives while I’m busy frying eggs. He barks orders at them, and then there are boot-clad men stomping around my tiny house, checking windows and working obnoxiously loud power tools to install some sort of security system I'm not even consulted about.
I grumpily remind myself I’m dating an alpha, and that along with an overbearing nature, he’s burdened with protective instincts that make a mama bear look chill.
I feed my overprotective alpha, but leveling out his blood sugar does little to ease his agitated state. After a few more rounds of pacing through my kitchen and living room, all the while casting irritable glances out the window at the three bodyguards stationed in front of my house, he turns to me.
“This isn’t working, baby girl.”
I raise both eyebrows in question. “What’s not working?”
Adam rubs the back of his neck and rolls his shoulders, but the stress still wafts off him in waves. “Your house. It’s cute, but it’s not safe.”
“I mean, those three dudes outside look like they know how to handle themselves,” I point out.
