Jesus, how can the traffic be this ridiculous in a town this small? At this rate I’ll be late for my first day at my new job. Because what I need is to make a bad first impression, especially given that the only reason I have this job is because my new landlady, who also happens to be my godmother, basically forced Janet, my new boss, to give it to me.
Rockhead Point shouldn’t have this many cars, I mean, Christ, it’s in the mountains in the middle of nowhere, how many people can really live here?
I’ve been in town exactly a week and I’m already craving the hustle and bustle of Chicago. I’d never really considered myself a city girl, until I got here and realized how much I took for granted the constantly fast-moving pace of living among the masses.
Exhaling slowly, I remind myself why I’m here and my frustration ebbs. This is the right place for me to be. After everything that happened back home, staying in the city wasn’t an option, neither was moving anywhere else. I’m here because of Aunt Chloe, because she loves me and because she’s the only one of my family who has unwaveringly supported the decisions I’ve made over the last year.
When everything went to shit, she was there for me, she didn’t say I told you so, or sneer at me and tell me there was an easy solution to the situation I found myself in. Instead, she calmly helped me sort through my options, then when it became clear to me that there was only one way forward, she offered me help, a place to stay and constant, unending love.
The bottle neck of cars moves and I slowly edge forward, the neat, inoffensive store front of the lawyer’s office where I start work today appearing in front of me. I’m definitely not as early as I’d like to be as I guide my car into a space in the parking lot and grab my purse from the seat beside me, but I’m not late and for now, I’m going to call that a win.
Back in Chicago, I was right in the middle of prep to take the bar when my life changed, I never got around to taking the test, instead I took my paralegal certificate online and now here I am, not following the meticulously plotted ten-year plan that would have seen me in a Prada suit taking the legal world by storm. But it’s okay, because this life was my choice, my decision, and I don’t regret it. My career might be the dark blight on my horizon, but everything else is blindingly glorious sunshine.
Slipping my feet into my nude pumps I kicked off to drive, I open my door and slide out, locking my car and smoothing down my skirt as I make my way out of the lot and onto the sidewalk.
Today is a good day. New town, new job, new life.
My cell beeps in my purse and I reach for it, a surge of panic tumbling through me in case something’s wrong. I’m so intent on finding it that I don’t notice the person in front of me until I walk straight into them. Bouncing off the rock-hard chest of an immovable object I startle back, my heel twisting beneath me as my knees buckle and I prepare to hit the ground.
Only instead of hitting the hard sidewalk, a huge hand wraps around my wrist, his grip tight, bordering on painful as my backward momentum is stopped and instead, I’m slowly pulled upright. My breath bursts out of me in a shocked exhale and I lift my head, looking up into the face of my savior.
Hard, black eyes. An angel’s face, with the aura of a devil. Dark hair, strong cheekbones, an austere roman nose and full lips stare back at me. My savior is much taller than me, but I’m barely five feet two, so most everyone seems tall to me. His shoulders are broad, his arms thick, his hand is huge; thick fingers grip my arm like he’s making sure I don’t run.
Intensity is rolling off him in waves and I can’t help the shudder of fear that ripples across my skin. Neither of us has spoken and it’s either been a millisecond or an hour since he stopped me from falling, but somehow time has no place here.
“It’s you,” he rasps, his voice, low, rough and full of warning.
I blink, because I don’t know this man. He’s the kind of guy you eye fuck in a club, then run away from because he’s so sexy and quintessentially male that you know he’ll break your heart with nothing more than a kiss. “I’m sorry?” My words are intended as a question, but somehow, they sound more like an apology.
“Come.”
The single word is all he says and he turns, not releasing his hold on me as he starts to move, dragging me along with him. I take two steps before I question my behavior. What the hell am I doing? Who is this guy and why am I letting him take me somewhere? Snatching my arm, I plant my feet and attempt to free myself from the sexy psycho’s grip, but he’s strong and apparently pretty intent on taking me wherever he plans to go.
“Hey,” I shout, trying to pry his fingers free with my other hand as I stumble along behind him.
Exhaling, like me not wanting to be dragged to some unknown location is an incredibly big inconvenience to him, he slows to a stop and turns to face me. “What?”
“Err, you need to let me go.”
“No,” he says nonchalantly.
“What? You can’t just say no. I don’t know you, you’re not a cop and I need to go to work,” I say, attempting to sound calm in response to his strange behavior.
“Quit, you don’t need to work.”
“What the actual fuck is happening here? I don’t know you and of course I need to work,” I shriek confusedly.
“No you don’t, I take care of what’s mine, I don’t want you to work.”
“Yours? Who are you? What the hell is going on? Let go of me, you asshole, or I’ll scream so fucking loud the entire town will hear.”
He moves so fast I barely even have time to blink before his hand is around my throat and his lips are on mine. He’s kissing me. He’s kissing me? I don’t react, too scared and shocked and bewildered to respond, but he doesn’t seem to care as his lips stroke against mine, his tongue making its way into my mouth and exploring.
I try to wiggle away, all my muscles tense and in escape mode, but the hand at my throat tightens and I immediately still, aware of the danger this stranger could represent, this huge mountain of a man who’s assaulting me right out in the open on the street.
After a long moment he pulls way, a tiny reluctant sound falling from him as he presses a soft kiss to my lips and stares down at me, his hateful black stare sparkling with something that I don’t recognize.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I snarl.
“Mouth. Normally I like a woman who curses, but I don’t like it on your lips.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss back, unable to stop the words from slipping out, even in the face of this madman.
His chuckle is pure sin, “Oh my little kitty has claws.”
“Let me go.”
“Never,” he laughs again.
Forcing myself to relax, I instruct my muscles to go limp and just like I expected, his grip on me loosens. Sensing my chance, I rip myself free of his hold and without thought, turn and run, bursting through the door and into the lawyer’s office as if the devil himself is chasing me down.
My breathing is ragged and I’m shaking as I stumble over to the receptionist’s desk, wide eyed and manic.
“Goodness me, are you okay? What happened to you?” Annette, the receptionist I met last week when Chloe dragged me down here exclaims.
“I was just attacked on the street,” I pant out, my one hand pressed against my racing heart.
“Oh, good lord,” Annette cries, jumping up from her seat and circling her desk to come to my side just as the door opens and my attacker saunters in, a wide grin etched across his lips.
“Oh Penn, thank goodness you’re here, Lulu was just attacked out on the street, can you call the sheriff and tell him he needs to get on down here,” Annette says, addressing my pursuer like he’s not a madman who just tried to kidnap me.
“It was h…him,” I stutter out, lifting my finger to point at him.
“What, dear?” Annette says, her palm rubbing soothingly up and down my arm.
“He… he was the one who attacked me.”
“Penn?” she asks confusedly.
“He grabbed me and tried to drag me down the sidewalk, then he assaulted me,” I cry out, my voice getting stronger as I push down the panic and force myself to calm.
“Penn attacked you?” her words come out on a squeak, like she can barely understand the things I’m saying.
“Morning Annette, how’re Herb and the kids?” the psycho asks so cordially I feel my mouth fall open.
“They’re fine, thank you, Penn. But what’s all this about you attacking our new employee.”
He chuckles and I stare incredulously between the two of them. What the hell kind of town is this? Chicago might have its faults but if I burst into a building and said someone had assaulted me I’m fairly sure my attacker would get more than a smile and a scolding look.
“She’s mine,” he answers succinctly.
Annette’s eyes widen comically and she slowly turns to face me. “Oh dear.”
