Gentleman Sinner(9)
I frown down at the deep red carpet. ‘What about me?’
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, his voice still low but getting louder. He’s coming closer.
I step back, retreating without thought. ‘I really need to go.’ I’m not at all comfortable with the reactions I’m having to this man, least of all because I’ve already seen he carries a gun, and I watched one of his men virtually strangle someone before my eyes, before having him hauled off to . . . where? Where did they take him? And, more importantly, what did they do to him? Is he dead? I flinch, trying not to go there. I shake my wondering away. It shouldn’t matter to me, anyway. What matters is that this man is a perfect stranger, and a dark one at that. There are so many signs that are screaming at me that he’s bad news. Yet there’s a sense of ease that is unfamiliar to me, and I’m not at all comfortable with how much I like it. He saved Penny tonight. Took her away from the danger. There was no man to save me when I needed it. No strapping beast of a male to rain holy hell on my tormentor.
I don’t realize that I’ve taken more than one backward step until my back hits the door. The contact startles me, and I look up without thought, finding Theo only a metre away. He could reach me with his hand if he were to extend it. ‘Who are you?’ The question tumbles past my lips before I can stop it.
He ignores me, his eyes dropping to my neck. His hand lifts and reaches up. I press myself into the wood, silently begging him not to touch me. His fingers skim the black waves around my neck for a fleeting moment before he pushes them away, tilting his head. ‘What’s this?’ he asks, his fingertip meeting my flesh and tracing down one of the scratch marks. I freeze, forcing air from my mouth as he makes a point of feeling every line on my neck. My skin flames, my heart galloping uncontrollably. I can’t speak, and after a few tense but pleasurable seconds of him grazing my neck with his touch, he goes on. ‘Who did this to you?’
‘A patient,’ I say quietly, convincing my hand to lift and replace his at my neck – not that I’m trying to hide the marks, more trying to free myself of his touch so I can move away from him. He’s not holding me in place. Not physically. Yet when he’s touching me, I find myself incapable of movement. But a microsecond before my hand reaches his to detach it, he jerks away, saving me the trouble.
He steps back, a slight scowl on his face. ‘A patient?’
‘He’s old. Senile.’ I find myself rushing to explain, not liking his reaction. There’s no softness anywhere to be found now. ‘Perks of the job,’ I joke, feeling the need to break the tension. He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even crack a smile. Yikes, he looks furious. ‘I should be going now.’ I thumb over my shoulder blindly.
Theo flinches, shaking his head mildly. ‘Certainly.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card, handing it to me. ‘I’ll have a car waiting for you outside. Callum will take you home. This is my card, should you need to contact me.’
My eyes drop to the black card held lightly between his fingers, with red type in one single line across the middle. His name. And a mobile number. ‘Why would I need to contact you?’ I ask, not bothering to point out that I can’t, because my phone is in a million pieces down an alleyway, and I’m not likely to be able to replace it until I’m paid on Friday. But that’s irrelevant. I should never contact him again. He’s definitely a man who should be avoided.
He comes forward and slips the card into the top of my bag. ‘Don’t ever walk home alone in the dark again,’ he warns, glancing away for a second. It’s only a second, but his craned neck reveals a sliver of ink peeking up over the collar of his shirt. Black ink, shaded subtly at the edges. I find myself straining to get a better look, silently begging for him to turn his neck farther and reveal more of the art. But he doesn’t, looking back at me instead.
‘Are you asking me or telling me?’ I say.
‘I’m telling you. No woman should roam the streets of London at night alone.’
It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone to worry about me, to care for my well-being. Well, Jess worries all the time. But it’s different when the worry is from family. The fact that a huge, mean-looking mountain of a man like this is concerned about a perfect stranger like me softens my heart to him. ‘I can take care of myself,’ I say anyway, prompting him to glare at me.
‘You shouldn’t need to.’
‘I really do need to,’ I assure him, catching sight of his tattoo again, more undistinguishable shadows and lines. Before I embarrass myself and reach up to pull the collar of his shirt down, I quickly scoot past him, frowning when he quickly moves from my path, putting a good few feet between us.
‘Why?’ he asks. ‘Why do you really need to?’
I realize I’ve unintentionally given him another hint of something I didn’t want him to know. Something I don’t want anyone to know. ‘Because I don’t have a huge man like you to spring out of nowhere and save me.’ I flip him a cheeky smile, and his lips quirk through his small frown. He loses so much hardness from his face when he’s amused. It’s riveting.
He clears his throat, as if he’s just realized that, too, and wants to uphold this iron front. The hardness returns. ‘Don’t walk anywhere alone,’ he reiterates, his intense stare burning away my smile.