Vivian Arend - High Passion

“Shhh.” He attempted to ease her to the mattress, but she was having none of his soothing. She pushed on his chest and he reluctantly allowed himself to be pressed to his back as she glared down.

“Did you get questioned by the police?” He wasn’t going to answer her. His refusal was clear in his eyes. “You did. When you brought me into the hospital.”

“It’s standard procedure,” Devon said. “I’m not upset. And Marcus showed up a few minutes later to clear me, but I wanted to . . .”

He trailed off, catching hold of her face. Cupping her cheeks tenderly and drawing her toward him.

What followed was exquisite. A bare, brief caress of mouths before he let her go. More intimate even than the touch of his lips was the expression in his eyes. “I was so scared,” he whispered. “I never want to see you like that again. It nearly tore me in two.”

Alisha swallowed hard, retreating from the intensity of his confession. Everything she’d experienced blurred together—not only her drug-induced hospital visit, but the rescue the day before, the trip to visit his family, and the hovering menace of Vincent’s demands.

He smiled. “Sorry. A little out of the blue, right? It’s been a roller coaster around here lately.”

She nodded, stroking his skin like a worry stone, the smooth heat under her fingers reassuring her. “I do trust you. I always have, even when we were fighting to be top dog at school. I didn’t want to get involved with you, but that wasn’t because I thought you were terrible.”

“You thought I was a man-whore,” he teased, doing his own stroking, his fingers firm on her thighs as he caressed her under the quilt. “I wasn’t really. Lots of talk, not much action. I was too exhausted trying to keep up with you.”

“That makes two of us, and we’re still working hard.” She arranged herself against him, resting her head on his chest and getting comfortable again. He had tempted her enough in spite of his man-whore status that she’d had to work to refuse him. That confession wasn’t needed anymore, but she did have something else to share. “Thank you for taking care of me these past days. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I think that says a lot about how much I do trust you, and I’m not the only one. You’re a rock, Devon. People know what to expect with you. You might tease a lot, but your work ethic and decision-making skills have never been in question. Not by me. Not by the team.”

Devon stroked her hair, his heart rate solid under her ear. “It’s strange. How there are so many different circles in our lives. Family. School. Work. Friends. All of them see us as someone different.”

She was fading again, the drugs still affecting her, but even washed by waves of fatigue she clued in on his issue.

Maybe the drugs loosened her tongue when she should have held it, but she laid her head on the pillow so she could look him in the eye as she spoke. “When one out of four of your circles is clearly in the minority? I’d say your family must be a bunch of idiots for not seeing what a great guy you are.”

A smile appeared at her bold proclamation. “Go to sleep. I’ll take care of you.”

“Go to sleep yourself. I bet I can sleep longer than you.”

“Always with the damn contests,” he mock-complained. Then a fake snore escaped him, and she giggled as she gave in to exhaustion.

It was Alisha who pulled herself from bed only a few hours later, bleary-eyed but awake. Incredibly, she was hungry.

Loud pounding on the door brought her hurrying from the kitchen to stop the noise before it woke Devon. She tightened the belt of the robe she’d pulled on, then peeked through the side window.

Shock froze her in position for an instant before she yanked the door open. “Stop making that racket,” she ordered, glaring at Vincent. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He loomed in the doorway, and she jerked the door between them.

Vincent paused, as if shocked by her actions. “Enough. I’m through waiting for you to realize you’re in over your head. I’ve come to take you home.”

Alisha snapped her mouth shut from where she’d been gaping in surprise at his words. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone you have any control over. I can take care of myself. Go away, and don’t bother to come back. Ever.”

Vincent rubbed his forehead for a moment, took a deep breath, then held up his hands in surrender. “Listen to me. You were in the hospital. How is that taking care of yourself?”

“How did you hear I was sick?” An even more concerning thought stuck, and she wrapped the robe front closer. “And how did you find me? What are you doing here?”

Vincent stood straighter, looking over her shoulder into the house. “This is your lover’s place. He gave me his card, remember? When you left your apartment you had to have found somewhere to live, and here you are.”

“Here I am, and here I stay,” Alisha retorted. “Thank you for your interest in my health. I’m fine. Now go back to Toronto, and don’t expect me to change my plans. I’m not marrying you, and I’m not leaving Banff. You need to accept that.”

She moved to close the door, but Vincent moved faster, shoving his foot into the gap and stopping her from locking him out. He lowered his chin and stared hard, his dark eyes glittering in the afternoon light. His voice softened, but the words came out brittle like shards of glass. “No, you need to accept that you will be returning. The sooner you get that through your head, the less traumatic this will be for all of us.”

“Do I need to go to the police, Vincent? Because if I have to, I will,” Alisha warned. “You’re threatening me.”

“Of course not.” Vincent took a far too intense perusal down to her bare toes and back up, lingering on her chest. “Why would I threaten the woman I love, and intend to—”

“The woman you love?” Alisha blurt out. “Damn you to hell, that’s bullshit.”

Vincent clicked his tongue. “Such language.”

His scold broke her meager control. Alisha was furious with him, and upset that he’d attempt to order her around. She spoke clearly, enunciating every word. “You don’t like my fucking language? Get your fucking foot out of the fucking door, and you won’t have to fucking listen to me anymore.”

He scowled harder. “That’s so mature.”

Her limbs were trembling and she rocked the door, hard. “Get. Out.”

“Why are you making this so difficult, Alisha?” Vincent leaned on the door frame, pushing himself farther into the room. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been supportive. Be reasonable.”

She came close to stuttering. “Be reasonable?”

His tone was nearly parental. Judgmental. “You have no home anymore, or won’t in a few weeks’ time. You’re sponging on others’ goodwill. Sleeping with one member of your team after the other to simply have a roof over your head. You don’t need to whore yourself like this, Alisha.”

This time words escaped her. She couldn’t form complete sentences, let alone coherent ones.

Maybe the steam escaping her ears or the furious rage causing her face to heat tipped him off because he caught hold of her wrist just before she slammed a fist into him. “Don’t even try. You wanted to play your little games, and flaunted your ability to turn your back on your family, and I allowed it. But that’s over. Get yourself to Toronto by Christmas or you’ll regret it.”

“The only thing I regret is opening the door in the first place.” She narrowed her eyes and stepped back, going for her phone.

“It’s a dangerous business you’re in, Alisha. I’d hate for something to happen to anyone who works with you.” He stepped fully onto the porch. “Someone close to you. It’s not impossible to influence a person’s destiny. Just a tiny nudge at the right moment can make all the difference.”

“Alisha, who are you talking to?”

Alisha twisted to the side to discover Devon in the hallway, blinking hard as he pulled to vertical. She glanced at the front door only to find that Vincent was gone.

Warm hands wrapped around her as Devon closed the distance between them. He tucked his head in close and kissed her neck, the heat of sleep wrapping around them both as she made a quick judgment call. Devon didn’t need to know everything about the visit from Vincent. She’d just . . . downplay it.

“We had a visitor, but he’s gone.”

Devon jolted upright. “That’s what you called your vampire friend the other day.”

He stormed toward the entrance, her hands falling aside unheeded as he hauled the door open. They were in time to see the red taillights of Vincent’s rented Ferrari head away down the back drive.

Devon turned, fully awake now. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “He didn’t do anything except make his usual demands for me to stop this independence charade and return to my place in the big scheme of things. As his arm candy.”

Devon glanced out again before firmly closing the door. “How did he know you were here?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You gave him a business card.”

He shook his head. “No, how did he know you were here, in my house?”

Alisha frowned. “He also talked about my trip to the hospital. And he mentioned something that makes me think he knew I spent a night at Tripp’s.”

Devon’s lips tightened. “You said you didn’t want the media involved, but in light of the drugging, you need to mention a few things when you talk to the police. If you’re worried about the media finding out we can ask Marcus who’s the best to discuss this with—he and Becki have contacts in the RCMP.”

Alisha tugged him toward the kitchen. “After we eat. I’m starving.”