Chapter 7 Frustration

Locking his car with one hand, he started towards the entrance to the broken-down looking building.

"Which floor, Morrison." It wasn't a question, but a demand. His voice against her ear made shivers run up and down her spine.

"Third floor, second door on your right. The elevator is out of order." She wanted to say sorry but bit her tongue. He swore under his breath, a word she has never heard anyone use except dock workers.

There were a lot of gangs about, fortunately she hasn't encountered one of them yet. There were times at night she heard fighting in the passages.

Guess tonight was not her lucky night. At the second floor a group of leather clad youngsters stood smoking weed. When they saw the man with the girl in his arms they started whistling and catcalling.

"Ooh! Hot mamma." one of the boys whistled.

"Hey, gimme some of that. Sharing is caring, Dude." another piped up, making lewd suggestions with his hips.

"Just ignore them, Mr. Ward." she implored, looking up at him, her eyes wide with fright.

She could feel his heart thumping against her ribs. He glared back at her, lips a thin white line. He kept moving like a machine, not saying a word, having a hard time keeping his anger in check. His grip on her became painful. She didn't dare complain.

At her door he put her down to unlock. She stood in the doorway, not wanting him to come in.

"Umm... Thank you very much, Mr. Ward I -"

He took her by the shoulders and moved her aside. He stood for a moment, taking up the small space. He could see the whole apartment at one glance. She hardly had any furniture.

"Mr. Ward Sir, it's not safe. Your car -"

He swiveled around. "How much do we pay you, Morrison?"

"Excuse me?" The nerve of him asking her that! Her anxiety is slowly turning to a boiling anger. She knows he must be used to better. Hell, even better than better. But he need not be so disdainful.

"I am sure you get a decent salary. Why the fuck are you living in this shithole?"

"Mr. Ward! My personal business has nothing to do with you. Thank you for bringing me. Now get out of my shithole, as you so aptly call it." She pointed at the open door. Her stomach tightened with an unknown emotion.

He slammed the door behind him. Christine shuffled away from him. The grip on her arm was a vice. Chase lifted her left arm's sleeve, inspecting her arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelped.

He did the same to the other arm. "Are you using?" Those stormy grey orbs pierced her soul.

"What?! No!" Christine yanked her arm free and almost fell at his feet.

"So, tell me, Morrison, what do you do with your money?" He said as if asking her what she did with her free time. He walked to her cupboards, opening them to reveal the meagre contents. "You hardly eat. You dress like a pauper. I haven't seen you in a new outfit since you started. Oh, and let's not forget your shoes."

"Enough!" Her face glowed, breath coming in harsh rasps. "Who the hell do you think you are? This is invasion of privacy Mr. Smart Attorney." Christine took a few steps towards him, hardly noticing the searing pain shooting up from her ankle. She poked him on the chest.

"You of all people should know not to make assumptions. God! The nerve of you! Yes, I work for you, but you don't own me."

Chase grabbed Christine and pulled her towards him. Her mouth opened in surprise, and he covered it with his own. It wasn't a gentle kiss. He devoured her mouth. Her lips clashed against his teeth; she could taste the bittersweet metallic taste of her blood. All the strength left her legs. She had to hold on to his muscled arms for dear life. And just as suddenly he released her. She staggered back against the wall.

Both of them were breathing hard. Christine couldn't find her voice. He turned around and left. She stared at the closed door like she has never seen it before.

The door opened. He poked his head around it. "Lock the goddamned door! Do you want to get raped?" He slammed it shut and she heard his footsteps receding down the passage.

Christine hopped on one leg to the door, locking it and setting the safety chain. She leaned her head against it.

What the hell just happened?

***

A red Ferrari sped through the night. Chase clenched his hands on the steering wheel.

"I am losing my mind. This girl is driving me insane," he told himself. "So much for not getting involved."

If he hadn't left when he did, he probably would have thrown her on her small bed and taken her right there.

"God, I am no better than my father. Well, at least I'm not married."

He laughed a bitter, harsh bark. She could nail his ass for sexual harassment. His father would just love that.

How she could live in that shithole, is beyond him. He had to get to the bottom of this.

Mason Pritchard. He just had to see them, looking like they did – him with his shirt half open and Christine barefoot and rumpled. He remembered the smug smile on the bastard's face. The face he would love to smash to pieces. It's like history wanting to repeat itself.

Try as he might, he couldn't get the taste of Christine's lips out of his mind, the way her soft body molded against his.

The red Ferrari pulled in at a bar. Chase let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. His hands ached from clutching the wheel.

He needed a drink. And he needed to get laid. To get her out of his head.

Chase strolled into the bar. A smoky haze filled the interior and in one corner a worn jukebox played an old Elvis tune. He ordered a double malt on the rocks. Scanning the room for a familiar face or just somebody worth looking at, he threw back the comforting liquor. The familiar burn felt good.

A light touch on his shoulder made him turn around. His eyes met a gorgeous dark-haired woman. She smiled at him, revealing perfect teeth.

"Hi, handsome. Buy me a drink?" Her voice silky and seductive sent a tremor to his core.

"Sure. What will you have?" He liked the way her dark eyes caressed him with the promise of what he could have later.

She laughed, a throaty sound. "Martini, make it a very dirty one, please."

The bartender gave him a knowing smirk as he placed the order.

"So, I haven't seen you before in this place?" asked Chase, scanning her from head to toe. She was a real fox. Curves in all the right places, her red dress revealing just the right amount of cleavage to make your mouth water for more.

"Oh, I needed a change of scenery. Looks like you need a friend?" She touched his arm, lightly.

He scoffed. "I don't think friendship is what I'm looking for, honey."

He saw the way her eyes roved over his body. She slid her hand between the buttons on his shirt. His body reacted to it immediately. Her tongue slicked over her ruby red lips.

"I agree. I have enough friends already. Would you like to come back to my place so we can do something that is not altogether friendly?" She moved closer to him.

Chase smiled. Maybe he needed this to get Christine out of his head. No strings attached. He normally wouldn't do this, but Christine got him so worked up. The way her eyes burned when she got mad. He was angry and frustrated when he kissed her. If she had kissed him back then, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Sure." Chase said, paid the bartender, taking the girl by the hand they left to his car.

"This is yours?" She stroked the sleek lines of the Ferrari. "Beautiful machine."

He pulled her into his embrace. "So, sue me, I like beautiful things. Like you."

They shared a heated kiss. She held onto him like a drowning woman, desperate for salvation.

"Are we going to make it back to my place?" Her breathy voice sent shivers right to his cock.

"I have condoms in my car."

"Let's go, Loverboy."

Chase thanked the stars he had the windows tinted. She was all over him, straddling him, licking his neck, sucking his nipples. He thought he would explode right there in his pants.

"You are a tiger, aren't you?" he breathed.

"Oh Sweetie, I can be anything you want."

But you can't be Christine. Shit.

And just like that he couldn't go through with it. He pushed her away from him.

"What's wrong?" A frown appeared between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

"I can't do this." He peeled her hands from his chest.

"What the fuck?!"

"I'm sorry." He was definitely losing his mind.

"Are you married? I won't tell if you don't." She tried getting back on his lap, but he stopped her.

"I'm really sorry. You are beautiful. I just can't."

"Hey, you are so hard, you are going to burst." she said, her voice raspy with passion, "Let me help you. You a virgin or something?" she touched the bulge in his pants, stroking it with her long nails.

He shoved her hand away. "Or something. Look, just get out. I need to go." He opened the door and helped her out.

"Asshole!" She shouted; her gorgeous face now locked in a snarl.

"Yeah, I wholly agree." he said as the Ferrari roared into life. "I am a fucking idiot." He reversed out of the parking lot, sending dust and gravel spinning into the night sky.