Escalation - Tessa Teevan Page 0,10

looking at me as if I’m a complete stranger, I’m not giving up on her or us. As long as I have my way, Gabriella Latham won’t leave my sight. Not any time soon. Hell, preferably not ever.

I know how that sounds—almost exactly like how Morningstar was with her. But in this case, I want to protect her, not keep her cooped up for my own pleasure by isolating her and making her solely dependent on me. All I have to do is make her understand that I did what I did for a reason and I was as honest with her as I could have been without directly affecting my job. Not that it’s going to be easy, but I’ll do whatever it takes, for however long it takes.

Eight weeks of patience and caution around Brie—of fighting my natural instincts to protect her by any means necessary—has been brutal. The urge to scoop her up, throw her over my shoulder, and haul her ass out of his house was nearly unbearable the longer she remained there. And still, I kept my cool, knowing I couldn’t treat her that way. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t be that guy. I wouldn’t be that guy. She needed to make her own decisions, to decide I was who she wanted. And in the end, she did—with no prompting from me. For the first, I wanted to be better, to be what a woman needed.

Still, it wasn’t easy, and if the way she’s looking at me now is any indication, this next interaction isn’t going to be, either. But, fuck, I’m prepared. This time, I’m putting up one hell of a fight, and in the end, she will be with me—whether she likes it or not.

Rafe’s blue eyes are a swirling mixture of sheer relief and unadulterated pain. Their penetrating gaze nearly causes me to gasp. My natural instinct has me reaching out for him, but I stop myself as soon as those eyes light up. When I pull my hand back, the light dissipates and I break our gaze, taking a moment to study Rafe.

Or Agent Phillips, as Agent Howard called him.

He’s wearing the same suit he had on the first weekend we spent at his apartment. My eyes widen as it dawns on me that he must’ve been lying about meeting a potential client. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. As I study him, the realization that I know nothing about this man sinks in. What else did he lie to me about?

Oh, right. His freaking name.

“Who the hell are you?” I blurt out, coughing at the force at which I asked the question.

His cheeks redden slightly before he tears his eyes away from me, having the decency to look ashamed as he places his hands in his pockets. His shoulders sag and he opens his mouth as if to speak then closes it, apparently having no words for me.

I hold my hands up, shaking my head. His gaze comes back to mine, and I have to force myself not to melt into the beautiful blue irises that gained my trust and then broke it. “You know what? I don’t actually care. I have nothing to say to you. Leave. Now.”

Even as I say the words, I instantly want to take them back. I’m torn between wanting him to hold me and wanting to push him away. More than anything, I want answers. But the sight of him is overwhelming and I’m too mentally drained to deal with this—with him—at the moment. All I want is to curl up and go back to sleep. I hate that my first thought is that he’s the one I want curling up with me.

“Brie,” he whispers, his blue eyes stormy and swirling with regret.

I swallow hard, not wanting to look at them, fully aware that my desire for him still runs deep. Yet again, I’m the weak woman blindly believing in a man, and yet again, I’ve crashed and burned. Self-loathing reigns supreme over me, and I wonder if I will ever learn.

Gabriella.

Brie.

Apparently, it’s all the same. But unlike Adrian, Rafe took a nickname that meant something to me and made it dirty. Just like that, fury rises up, and I can no longer stand to look at the face of the man who’s lied to me since the moment we met. My fists tighten into balls, and I study the sheet covering my legs, trying to calm down. When