Chapter 4 TO FLEE

Leah

His eyes dragged down my body as though he was stripping away every piece of clothing with his eyes. When our eyes locked again, the hunger in them was unmistakable.

"I almost missed you." He grinned.

"Are you stalking me?" My voice tried for tough, but my grip on my purse strap betrayed the tremor in my hands.

"Maybe." He stepped forward.

I took two backwards, my back hitting the wall of the elevator. I was right where he wanted me, trapped between the wall and his body.

"I could be one for you, doll."

"You're insane."

I pressed myself harder against the wall as though it was going to save me from him.

"I am," he muttered more to himself than to me. He reached out to touch my face, and I caught his hand, stopping him.

"That's a bad habit. Touching me without permission."

He smirked, his eyes drifting to my lips. "Like I said, it is hard to resist when something beautiful catches my eye."

"Again, I'm not a thing." I squeezed his wrist harder.

"No. You are not," he agreed.

His fingers caressed my cheek, despite my small hand trying to stop his.

"I want it."

"My cheek?"

He chuckled. "No, silly. Your hair tie."

I blinked, wondering what type of creep would ask a woman he had just met for her hair tie. "Why?"

"To tie my hair."

Is he for real?

"Fuck off." I pushed against his chest.

But he tugged the hair tie free, letting my hair tumble down my shoulders.

"The hell!" I yelled, brushing the strands that fell on my face aside.

He twirled the hair tie around his finger. "Thank you."

"Give it back!" I reached up to snatch it back, but he raised his hand higher. I stood on my tiptoe, trying to reach it, when suddenly, he leaned down, pressing his lips against mine.

My mind went blank for a second while his hand moved to the back of my head, deepening the kiss.

The kiss became rougher, stealing the air from my lungs. My fists pounded weakly against his chest, but he didn't stop until I tasted blood. My knees buckled, and I clung to his coat, growing weaker with every second.

When he pulled away, I gasped for air, my lips stinging.

A smirk played on his lips as his fingers traced along my swollen lips, clearly pleased with himself.

Without a second thought, I raised my hand, ready to slap off that stupid smirk that irritated me. He gripped my wrist before I could make contact with his face.

The playful smirk on his face faded. His eyes went cold, staring down at me with an unsettling emptiness.

Dread washed over me.

He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my palm tenderly, his eyes holding mine. My skin crawled from the kisses he trailed up my arm.

"Do you know what happened to the last person who slapped me?" He asked, and without waiting for an answer, I didn't have he continued, "He lost both his arms."

A shudder ran through me, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. I tried to pull back, but his grip tightened.

"Do you want to lose your arms, doll?"

I shook my head, pressing my lips together to keep myself from screaming.

He chuckled, the darkest I had heard from him. "Relax. I wouldn't harm a single part of your beautiful body."

If he was trying to convince me that I was safe with him, then he failed. If anything, his words sounded like a threat I should take seriously.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against mine, and then he whispered, "Are you scared of me?"

I didn't reply. I couldn't even if I wanted to.

Who asks someone that after they threaten to cut their arms off?

"You shouldn't be, doll."

The elevator doors finally opened. He stepped away, tying his hair up in a bun, his eyes still on me.

I stumbled out, my legs shaking, hand catching the wall to steady myself.

"Do you need help?" He teased.

I straightened quickly, forcing my legs to move and put as much distance between myself and the crazy man behind me.

"Mrs. Walsh," the CEO called down the hallway.

"Good morning, Mr. Martinez," I greeted, with a forced smile.

"Are you alright?" He asked concerned.

"Yeah," I lied.

He didn't seem convinced as he opened his mouth to speak, but the footsteps behind me caught his attention. "Mr. Kingston, you made it today."

"Yes," he chuckled.

"You should have called. The chairman waited yesterday."

"My bad," he chuckled again. "I didn't think you were hiding such a beauty in your company, though."

"Ah," the CEO let out an awkward laugh. "We shouldn't keep the chairman waiting, Mr. Kingston."

When I heard their footsteps fading, I turned and caught him looking at me.

He winked.

I think I got myself in trouble without knowing.

**********************************

The week flew by, and before I knew it, it was Friday.

"Did we come for a family dinner or to watch those two flirt?" Ivy muttered, eyeing our parents.

I followed her gaze. Across the table, my mother giggled at something my father said, her hand resting on his arm.

I smiled and turned back to my sister, who wore a look of pure disgust. "Let them be, Ivy. They barely see each other."

She raised her eyebrow, folding her arms. "Barely? Is that what you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"I came home last month to a scene that will traumatise me for life... right in the living room! Buck naked. Both of them!"

"I can't unsee it, Leah."

"The fuck." My eyes widened in shock.

"Yeah, these two old geezers are fucking each other behind our backs!"

I glared across the table. "Dad!"

They jerked like they had been caught doing something they shouldn't. I narrowed my eyes at my father, feeling betrayed. He was hooking up with his ex-wife behind my back while acting like he needed help. I thought we were a team.

Un-fucking-believable

"What's the problem, sweetheart?" He asked.

"Don't," Ivy whispered. "He got me my new car to keep it a secret."

"You..."

She placed her hand on my thigh and squeezed it hard. "They are adults, Leah. They don't need their kids telling 'em what to do."

It's more like I should help you keep your new car.

The waiter arrived, serving the food just in time. I kept my eyes on my father, my glare unwavering, even as my plate was placed in front of me. He cleared his throat awkwardly, picking up his cutlery to eat.

"Eat your food, Leah," my mother said, coming to her man's defence.

"Sure, Mrs. Carter." I turned my glare at her.

"What is wrong with your sister?" She asked Ivy, who merely shrugged.

I was lifting a forkful of pasta to my lips when I felt a finger graze my bare arm, the scent of his cologne announcing his arrival before he spoke.

"Good evening, Mr. Carter," he greeted.

The colour drained from my face.

"Aiden Kingston," my father said, his voice tinged with barely concealed anger.