Chapter Kennedy 5

Araneae.

Araneae.

His pronunciation was different than the spider, a syllable less—uh-rain-ā. The name reverberated off the walls of the small office, drowning out whatever else he’d said. Or perhaps it was the rush of my blood coursing through my ears.

In the whirlwind of emotions, my mind filled with thoughts—my mother’s warning, the name Sparrow—but voicing any of them wasn’t possible. In a matter of seconds, my tongue had forgotten its role. Instead of speaking, the useless muscle became glued to the roof of my mouth as saliva evaporated.

No longer lost in the darkness, this mountain of a man walked around the desk, his movements graceful and predatory until he came to a stop before me, his prey. Lurking nearly six inches taller than me in my heels, the dark gaze from earlier in the parking lot shone downward as if I were merely a child under his admonishing stare.

Before my words could find their way out of my mouth, his large hand grasped my chin and pulled it upward. The room no longer existed. All that I could see was him—his gaze on mine. With each tilt upward, my pulse kicked up more and more, until under his stare my breathing slowed, and my knees grew weak.

I was going to faint.

No.

Taking a step back and away, I found my voice and demanded, “Tell me who you are.”

The way his lips curled sent a chill down my spine. If he were smiling, his eyes hadn’t received the memo. Again he lifted his hand, but this time it wasn’t for my chin but to run a ringlet of my hair through his fingers.

“This is promising,” he said.

Another step back.

My attempts at strength were failing miserably. In another step or two, I’d be backed against the wall. And while there was something about this man that had my emotions stirred in a way I barely recognized, the smarter part of me knew I needed to get away.

“Stop touching me.” I sounded like a child, but I didn’t care.

“Oh, Araneae, soon you will be begging for just that.”

I lifted my palm to his chest. The gesture was meant to stop his forward progress, but it did more than that. Beneath my touch and despite his calm, calculating demeanor, his heart too was racing. Leaving my hand pressed against his solid chest, I tilted my face up to his. “Tell me who you are.”

“I’ll do better than that.”

My hand dropped. “What’s better than that?”

“I will tell you who you are.”

I shook my head slowly as tears prickled the backs of my eyes, and emotions I’d kept suppressed for nearly a decade threatened to unfurl. I swallowed once and then again. I didn’t know this man or even his name. He didn’t deserve my tears. He hadn’t given me any reason to believe him.

Or had he?

He knew my real name.

“Fine. First tell me who I am and then who you are.”

This time as his full lips curled upward, his dark eyes shone, joining in his amusement. “In time. The most important thing for you to know is that you’re mine. Tomorrow you’ll travel back to Boulder and make the necessary arrangements to move to Chicago permanently. After all, this is where you belong.”

“What? No.”

His finger stroked my cheek. While I wanted to remind him not to touch me and explain what he’d just said, deep inside of me, I somehow knew the truth: what he was saying was right.

It wasn’t right as in right versus wrong, good versus evil.

No, the man before me was neither right nor good.

It was the twisting in the pit of my stomach that told me that his words were accurate.

“You’re crazy. I’m not yours. I’m no one’s. I don’t even know who you are.”

The finger that had caressed my cheek, trailed lower to my neck and collarbone, each inch combustible. Like a match head being dragged across a striking surface, his touch caused a chemical reaction. The flame was lit as heat sparked within me, stealing my breath and twisting my insides.

I stepped back again. “Please.”

His chiseled chin bobbed. “You like it. I can tell. I see it in the way the vein at the side of your neck pulsates and the way your breathing has grown shallower.” His eyes scanned downward. “The way your nipples have grown hard. You want me to touch more than your regal, sexy neck.” The desk light reflected as a shimmer in his eyes. “And don’t worry, Araneae, I will. In time.”

I pushed his hand away. “I don’t know you. And I sure as hell don’t know who you think you are, but you’re wrong. I’m leaving Chicago tomorrow, and I’m not coming back.”

This time he took a step back, lifted an envelope from the desk, and handed it to me.

In flowing script on the front was the name he’d called me, but there was more. There was also a last name: Araneae McCrie.

I couldn’t stop the tears. “I-I’ve never been told...” I looked up at his face. If my emotions were affecting him, he wasn’t showing it. “How do you know this?”

“The same way I know that you belong to me. Your father promised my father when we were both quite young that you would be mine. The day has come to honor his word.”

What? An arranged marriage?

That was absurd.

“My father? A man with the name McCrie? I didn’t know him. I never knew him. This isn’t the Middle Ages and even if it were, his word means nothing to me.”

“A man’s word is either his most valuable tool or his most respected weapon. There is nothing more binding. Tonight, I’m giving you my word. By this time next week, you’ll be back with me, and you will be asking me to touch you.” He once again caressed my cheek. “And I don’t mean your face.”

I didn’t want to believe him. Yet he’d already given me more information about my past than I’d ever known. “Will you tell me more about my family?”

Shit!

Did that sound like I was agreeing? I wasn’t. I was…curious.

“In time.”

I let out an exaggerated breath. “Forget it. You gave me enough. I can search the internet with what you’ve given me.”

“You won’t.”

My brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It isn’t safe.”

“And when I don’t come back?”

“You will.” When I didn’t answer, he went on, “Because not doing so is also not safe.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Open the envelope.”

As I turned the thick paper over in my hands, I had a flashback of an envelope in a car ten years earlier. I ran my finger under the flap. This time, the contents were sparser. I pulled the paper back to reveal a picture, the real kind with a glossy front that had been developed.

My breath caught as I stared down at the candid photograph of Louisa and Jason. They were dining at a restaurant in Boulder. By the look of her midsection, the picture was taken recently.

“Tell no one,” he said, “about this. Only that you’re moving to Chicago.”

“She’s pregnant and you’re threatening her? You’re a monster.”

“Do as you’re told and she will never know, nor will her husband. They will remain blissfully ignorant.”

I opened the envelope wider. There was nothing else inside. “Tell me who you are.”

“In time.”

“Stop saying that!”

Again, his lips moved into a grin. “For now, all you need to worry about is arranging your move. Don’t worry about a place to live. You’re leaving on a red-eye tonight. And then when you return, Patrick will pick you up at the airport. The airline tickets are already in your app. Once you arrive back to Chicago, he’ll deliver you to me.

“And that Google search or whatever search engine you think to use, don’t do it. All of your devices are monitored. Believe me when I say, it’s for your own good.”

My mind swirled. It was too much, too unbelievable to comprehend. “I don’t know you. And as for my own good, you’re telling me to give up my dream and move to Chicago. No. This is preposterous. As for believing, I don’t believe a damn word you say.”

Maybe it was three steps, or with the length of his legs, it may have been only two. I wasn’t sure. All at once, my shoulders crashed against the wall. His massive body pushed against mine, his hands capturing my wrists and pinning them to my sides. Chest to chest, he encompassed me, his heartbeat and even his words vibrating from him to me—all of me.

“Believe me,” he said, his tone colder than before. “You don’t know me yet, so we will let this one instance slide. In the future, remember that no one speaks to me like you just did. No one. And do not ever...” With each of his words, his hips moved toward me until his growing erection probed against my stomach. “...make assumptions about me.”

Fear was a strange bedfellow. For all my life I’d done my best to keep it at bay, to avoid danger and ignore its power, its raw potential to be so much more than distress. As the emotion flowed through my coursing bloodstream, the excess was energizing and empowering.

The man’s granite features from before had morphed. And that wasn’t my only clue that I had an effect on this monstrous yet mysterious man.

I moved my hips ever so slightly his way.

His dark eyes hooded as his nostrils flared. “Araneae, you have no idea what you’re doing.”

I straightened my neck, raised my chin, and stared deep into his darkness. “Then tell me. Tell me what assumption I’ve made.” Because most have been unspoken: You’re a bully. You’re used to getting your way. You won’t tell me what I need to know. And for some unknown reason, having you against me was the most turned on I’ve been in years—forget that. Not in years—in forever.

I didn’t say any of the examples aloud. Instead, I continued my unblinking glare into his dark gaze and willed my hands not to fight his grip.

“Your nipples are hard as rocks under that expensive silk.” He took a deep breath. “And you’re so wet my mouth is watering at the idea of tasting you, teasing you, and making you scream so loud as you come that Patrick will hear.”

Pressing my lips together, I held back my retort, instead saying, “Those are not assumptions.”

He loosened his grip and stepped back, his tone once again cold and demanding. “Do as you’ve been told. Get on the plane tonight. Do what you need to do in Boulder and return next Wednesday night. Do not tell anyone about me or this arrangement, and your dream will remain intact. You assumed that I have a desire to take Sinful Threads away. You’re wrong. I have neither the desire to take it away nor ruin it forever. That is, as long as you obey my instructions.

“The issues you’ve had here with merchandise will no longer be a problem as long as you behave. If there are any thoughts in that pretty little head of yours of disobeying, the demise of your business partner and your business will only be the beginning of your punishment.”

He ran his finger once again over my cheek, now damp with tears. “For the first time, you have a choice in your future. The next step is currently in your hands. I believe you’ll do what is best for everyone.”

With his last word—his warning—hanging in the air, he turned, opened the door, and disappeared into the dark hallway. I stood motionless as his footsteps faded away, lost in my memory of his presence—his scent, his touch, and the way his body pushed against mine.

My mind spun and chest filled with the burden bestowed upon me.

A choice?

What choice was he giving me in effect—me in exchange for my best friend and our company?

How was that really a choice?

As the reality struck with the decision before me, dazed and bewildered, I bolted toward the doorway. “Wait! Stop. I have more questions. I need more answers. Damn you…” My voice trailed away in the silence. “I don’t even know your name...”

My words echoed through the empty distribution center as more tears flowed down my cheeks. I leaned back against the wall with my arms wrapped around my midsection, trying to decipher what had just happened. In the distance new footsteps grew closer with each second.

A mix of panic and excitement washed through me. The instinct to run, to flee, pulled at my already-taut nerves. With my hand on the door, I contemplated closing and locking it, keeping him out, but reason took over. This wasn’t my mystery man approaching. The new footsteps were Patrick’s.

“Ma’am, your car is ready. Your plane is leaving soon.”