Chapter 8: He’s mine

NILAH

The heavy mahogany doors clicked shut, and the loud buzzing from the ballroom died instantly. But my lips were still burning. That kiss out there in front of the cameras… it didn't feel like a show. It felt like a claim. My heart was hammering so hard against my ribs I thought he could hear it in the quiet room.

Darien didn't say anything for a long minute. He pulled off his tuxedo jacket and threw it onto a chair, looking completely exhausted. He walked over to the corner, his jaw tight, and pointed at a small leather sofa.

“Sit down, Nilah,” he muttered.

“Are we just going to hide in here?” I asked, crossing my arms. My feet were throbbing from those stupid high heels, but I didn't want to look weak in front of him. “My father is probably looking for us. Marcus too.”

“Let them look,” Darien said, his voice flat. “Sit down before you fall over.”

I didn't argue with him this time. I collapsed onto the leather and let out a shaky breath, rubbing my temples.

Before I could even ask what our next move was, Darien dropped to one knee right in front of me.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat as his big hands reached out. His long fingers wrapped around my right ankle, his skin so warm it sent a shock straight up my leg.

“Darien… what are you doing?” I whispered. My face went hot instantly.

“Shut up and let me look,” he said. He didn't ask for permission. He just unbuckled the thin strap of my shoe, pulled the heavy heel off, and dropped it on the floor. Then he did the exact same thing to the left one.

His large thumbs pressed hard into the bottom of my foot, rubbing the sore muscle in a slow, heavy circle. The relief was so sudden I almost groaned out loud, but I bit my lip. Having his calloused hands on my bare skin made my head spin in a completely new way. He moved his hands up, his fingers sliding slowly over the sensitive skin of my ankles, his thumbs pressing deep into the tight tendons.

He didn't just rub them. He lingered there, his palms sliding up just a fraction higher against my bare skin, his touch heavy and deliberately slow.

“You’re shaking,” Darien murmured. His grey eyes finally flicked up to meet mine. There was no corporate look on his face now. It was dark. Intense. “Is this from Marcus, or is it from me?”

“It’s not from anyone,” I lied, trying to pull my foot back from his grip. “I’m just tired.”

He didn't let go. His grip tightened around my ankle just enough to keep me completely still, his thumb stroking a slow, teasing line over the bone. “If you’re going to play the part of my fiancée, you can't jump every time I come near you, Nilah. People will notice if you flinch when I touch you like this.”

“I don't jump,” I snapped, my cheeks burning as I looked down at his large hands on my skin. “And you didn't have to call me your fiancée out there. A fake date was enough to annoy Marcus.”

“A fake date wouldn't stop your father from destroying my stock tomorrow morning,” Darien said. He stopped rubbing my feet but he didn't move away. He stood up slowly, towering over me, leaning right over the sofa until his shadow completely blocked out the light. He smelled like expensive cologne, whiskey, and fresh rain.

“Marcus was going to call it a stunt. I had to make it real.”

“It’s not real,” I reminded him, my voice dropping to a whisper as his chest practically brushed against my knees.

“Then make it look real,” he whispered. He leaned down further, his hands coming down on the back of the sofa on either side of my head, trapping me completely. His face was just inches from mine, his eyes dropping down to my lips.

“You need to learn how to be kissed without looking like a startled rabbit every single time.”

“I don't look like—”

He cut me off. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine again.

This kiss wasn't like the one for the cameras. It was slow. Heavy. Deep. His mouth moved against mine with a fierce, quiet certainty that left me completely breathless.

My heart raced, a wild drumming in my chest. My fingers automatically reached up, bunching the fabric of his white shirt in my fists just to hold onto something, pulling him even closer until my chest was pressed flat against his heat. I felt totally uncomfortable with how much control he had over me in this room, my mind telling me to push him back, but the heat in my stomach was too intense. I was blushing furiously, my face on fire against his skin as his tongue slid against my bottom lip, demanding more.

He didn't let go until I let out a soft, defeated sigh against his mouth, my hands losing their grip on his shirt as my body went completely soft under his.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed slowly over my wet bottom lip, his eyes darker than I had ever seen them. He looked down at me, a tiny, dark smirk touching his lips because he knew exactly how flustered and breathless he had left me.

“We definitely need to practice more,” he muttered, his voice rough and low. “You’re far too easy to read, Nilah Mariel.”

“I hate you,” I whispered, looking away because I couldn't handle the intense way he was staring right through me.

“No, you don't,” Darien said. He stepped back, and the warmth disappeared instantly, making me feel freezing cold in the big dress.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his face going totally blank and businesslike again. The corporate mask was right back in place, and his shoulders went rigid as he read the screen.

“I have things to sort out tonight,” he said, his tone turning flat. He picked up his tuxedo jacket from the chair.

“The board is already flooding my cell with messages. I need to handle the press release before the morning papers hit the stands. Stay here. Don't go back out there alone.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” I asked, looking down at my bare feet, my skin still tingling from where he had been holding me.

“My driver will get you through the back service exit in ten minutes,” Darien said, walking toward the door.

“He’ll take you wherever you want. Just don't go back to the ballroom.”

He turned the handle and walked out, slamming the heavy door behind him.

I leaned my head back against the leather sofa, trying to get my breathing under control. My skin still felt hot where his fingers had touched my ankles. My heart wouldn't slow down, no matter how hard I tried to force it to.

Suddenly, my purse buzzed on the cushion next to me.

I reached over and pulled my phone out, expecting a text from my bookstore manager about the schedule. Instead, my eyes went wide when I saw a message from an unknown number.

“This is Vivian. I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing with the Mariel name, Nilah, but you need to stay the hell away from Marcus. He belongs to me now, and your family's money won't change that.”