Burn (Breathless #3)(28)

“I’m taking you to my apartment,” he said firmly. “You’re moving in with me.”

“Wait. What? Ash, I can’t—”

“This isn’t negotiable, Josie.” His eye glittered with purpose and his stance was rigid, brooking no compromise. “You’re coming with me. Now let’s go into your bedroom. You’re going to sit on the bed and tell me what you need packed for tonight. Tomorrow we can go over what you have to have or want moved to my place and I’ll arrange for someone to come in and have everything brought over. But when we have this conversation about that son of a bitch—and we are having that conversation—it’s going to be in a place where you feel absolutely safe. A place where you know no harm will come to you. That’s in stone.”

Her mouth dropped open even farther, but even amid the utter shock of his proclamation came . . . relief. Comfort. But mostly overwhelming relief. The decision had been wrested from her hands, and at the moment she embraced that. Her worries—fears—surrounding Ash seemed silly now. That she’d even entertained that he might be like Michael or that she would be entering an even worse situation than the one she’d just come from seemed absurd.

“I can pack my own things,” she whispered.

There was a sudden fire in his eyes. Satisfaction over her capitulation. Maybe he’d expected her to fight it more or even to outright refuse, though she could see he had no intention of backing down.

“Didn’t say you couldn’t pack. What I said was that you’re going to sit on your bed while I do this for you. All I need from you is to tell me what you want for tonight and maybe tomorrow. The rest will be taken care of after you and I have talked later tonight.”

Wow. Okay. This was moving at supersonic speed. She felt like she’d just gotten off an insane roller-coaster ride and was still trying to gain her bearings.

He held out his hand to her, not moving to her or taking it on his own. He simply held it out, waiting. Waiting for her to accept. To take his hand and to enter his world.

Taking a deep breath, she reached out, sliding her palm over his upturned one. He gathered her fingers gently in his hand and then squeezed, holding firmly. Like he was forging an unbreakable bond between them.

Then he pulled her gently toward her bedroom, and she followed, allowing him to lead her inside where he sat her on the edge of the bed as if she were incredibly fragile. Something precious and breakable.

He backed away and did a quick survey.

“Do you have an overnight bag?”

“In the closet,” she said huskily.

She watched in stupefaction as he briskly began to pack under her quiet direction. Didn’t they have it all turned around? He was doing everything for her. What had she done for him? But then, he had said he’d give a lot. But he’d take everything.

She shivered lightly, wondering just how much he’d take, and if she’d have anything left when he’d taken his fill.

Chapter eleven

Ash wasn’t a stupid man. He knew he’d pressured Josie, given her no time to breathe, analyze or react to his arrogant demand. And it had been the height of arrogance to sweep into her apartment and order her to move into his.

So it was with brisk efficiency that he hurried about his task, because the longer she sat on that bed looking overwhelmed and befuddled, the more time she’d have to reconsider her quiet agreement. Which meant he risked her not coming home with him.

And that was not an option.

He packed an overnight bag, called his driver to make sure he’d be waiting outside Josie’s apartment, and then he hustled her toward the door, not giving her any further time to process the whirlwind event.

After urging Josie into the car, he closed her door and paused only a moment to call his doorman and ask him to go up to Ash’s apartment and take down the painting of Josie from his bedroom and store it, along with the others in his living room, until Ash retrieved them. He didn’t want Josie to know he was the one who’d bought her work. Not yet.

When he got into the car next to her, he relaxed and then glanced sideways, taking in her pale, shaken face. The bruises pissed him off. Enraged him. The split at the corner of her mouth stood out, a reminder that another man had put his hands on what Ash already considered his. That the man would have put his hands on any woman in such a manner. Not just Ash’s woman, but any woman. But most especially his woman.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Ash,” she said quietly, speaking for the first time since she’d given him hesitant instructions on what to pack for her.

“It’s a very good idea,” he said firmly. “You would have already come to me if it weren’t for that ass**le. You know it and I know it. Now, we still have to address the matter of Michael, and we’ll do it when we’re in a place you feel safe and secure, and you’ll do it in my arms, where you know nothing bad is going to touch you. But know this. What he did doesn’t change one thing about you and me. We’re inevitable, Josie. From that first day in the park, we were inevitable. Fighting is a waste of time and mental energy. I’m not fighting it and I don’t want you fighting it either.”

Her mouth parted in surprise. Her eyes flashed, not in anger, but in recognition. Good. They were getting somewhere because she was starting to see what he saw. What he knew.

“Not happy that you kept this from me,” he continued. “That you didn’t come to me the minute this happened. But we’ll work on that. You weren’t mine yet even if I knew you were. But you are now. And you’ll come to me any time you have a problem.”