Bound for Me (Be for Me #4)(36)

But he had other unfinished business to see to first.





Chapter Ten



Savannah bristled and slammed the door. She didn’t want to be checked on later like some problem child. She’d wanted him to step inside and press her against the wall. Kiss her. Touch her. Take her.

And for a moment, he’d looked like he was about to. And he’d looked as pissed off as she felt. She’d wanted to vent her anger and frustration on him. Use him again to find those moments of mindlessness and release. That relief.

Stupid, stupid body.

Snatches of the night’s dreams flashed in her mind. Connor had featured in every one. But he’d walked away without a second glance.

Unfinished business?

It wasn’t sex he was talking about. It was her threats. Empty threats.

What did she think she could really say about his father? She had no real dirt on him. Nothing other than the poor taste of dishing out share tips like he was tossing after dinner mints to beggars outside a banquet. But the arrogance of it galled her.

She’d spent the night wondering about Connor. The icicle? Was he really a workaholic?

It didn’t fit with the idea she had of him as being a spoilt playboy. Hadn’t he been born into an empire? He’d never had to go a day wondering where the next rent check was coming from because he owned the whole freaking town… he wasn’t that driven, was he?

When she went into work Luca smiled at her. “Thanks so much, last night was a record for us.”

“Great.” What with the entertainment she and Connor had provided and all, everyone had been extra thirsty. She readied the bar, gave Dante another lesson. Tried to keep as busy as possible.

But there was the door-checking thing.

Every. Single. Time… that freaking door opened she looked up—her heart seizing.

Every. Single. Time… it wasn’t him, she breathed again.

Connor didn’t show for the entire shift. She was not disappointed. It wasn’t like she’d been mentally sparring with him all day. Thinking up come-backs to imaginary accusations and flirts. Nope. None of that.

She worked hard, glaring at Luca when he dared ask if she was feeling alright. If she was okay for a ride home.

“I’ll be fine.” Back on her own. Just the way she liked it.

And the sooner she got the bar tidied, the sooner she’d be walking swiftly home alone again.

Two minutes past closing, Connor walked in. Damn doorman must’ve thought he was on staff or something.

“You serve him,” she told Luca.

“I don’t think that’s what he wants.”

“I don’t care if that’s not what he wants,” she snapped.

But Luca was already walking out to the kitchen.

“Traitor,” she called after him.

Connor stepped up to the bar. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Late?” She pressed her hands on the wood. “What are you late for?”

“A really cold reception.” He smiled. “I’ll take a beer.”

She turned and pulled one from the fridge.

But when she put the bottle on the bar she saw the swollen, bruised knuckles on his left hand. Her heart skidded as her blood turned to icy slush. “What did you do to yourself?”

He stretched out his fingers with a wince, then curled them round the bottle. “What do you think I did?”

She didn’t want to think. “I’m not a fan of violence.”

“Nor am I.”

She hesitated. “Was it...”

“The jerk who put that crap in your drink? Yes. It was.”

“Did you go after him?”

“Yes.”

Appalled, Savannah’s head spun. What had he been thinking? Those guys were psychopaths.

He really thought he was King of the Mountain, didn’t he? Like it was his freaking duty to take care of each of his subjects? “I didn’t need you going off to protect my honor.”

His lips twisted. “But I was honor bound to help you.”

Bound by what? “You can take your honor and shove it in a small, dark place.” She shook her head. “Violence doesn’t make it better.”

“I didn’t go for vengeance.” Connor took a sip of his beer and then sighed. “He jumped me. Got a few shots in before I laid him out.”

She stared disbelievingly at his perfect face. “Oh yeah, because that’s some black eye you’ve got there.”

“You want to see what I got?” He challenged her.

Suddenly she was nervous. But she couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“Come ‘round here and see.” He dared her to deny him.

But she couldn’t. She wanted to know.

Slowly she walked around the bar and over to the stool where he perched awkwardly.

He lifted the bottom of his tee. Shadows darkened the skin around his ribs, large purplish bruises. So many. She winced at the raw graze streaking down his side.

“He came at me from behind. Like the coward he is. Got a few kicks in before I could get to my feet and take him out.” He let go of the shirt and it dropped down.

But the bruises were imprinted on her brain.

“Where is he now?” It was pathetic, but she whispered. Her blood had run cold at the sight of the purple contusions covering his skin.