and the nauseated feeling wouldn’t stop. Bile rose, and she barely managed to get the door open before hot liquid went spewing.
“What do you need?” Dimitri fussed as soon as he was in the driver’s side. “What can I do?”
She shook her head and closed the door, turning the AC on full blast and aiming it right at her face. She hugged herself, her nails biting into her arms to try to calm her shaking hands. It was a bad idea. She knew it before she walked in. Why had she thought she could do this?
Dimitri felt helpless watching her misery. He shouldn’t have asked her to do this, dammit. He’d seen what just the thought of it had done, but he’d stupidly thought since she’d handled the last couple places he’d taken them and seemed to be handling the small crowd in the event room, she’d be okay.
Wrong. All it took was getting cornered by three people while he’d stopped to chat with the author at the table beside them. He hadn’t seen the men until it was too late. Didn’t matter if she knew them; she didn’t trust them like she did him. That was why she freaked, and he’d had his back turned, thinking she would grab her purse and join him. He should have known better than to turn his back in a room full of people she knew better than he did.
He started the Jeep and pulled out, heading back to the hotel. She was in no shape to try a restaurant. He’d get her calmed down then go find food for them both.
“Where are we going?”
Her quiet voice startled him. “Back to the hotel.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shot a glance her way and saw her hunch in on herself. No way in hell was she going to blame herself for this.
“You don’t have a fucking thing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I do. I shouldn’t have asked you to come when I knew what might happen. I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t deserve you.”
“You deserve someone who can go to things with you, be in the spotlight. You love being the center of attention. You need someone who can share that with you.”
The sadness in her voice set off alarm bells. She was going to say no before he even had a chance to ask her to see where this could go. All because he’d pushed too hard, too fast. Fuck. He had to get her back to the hotel room where he could hold her, make her understand the only thing he cared about was her.
The fucker in the back of his head whispered, “What if you can’t be happy with someone who’d rather be at home instead of out doing things?”
Then he looked at her. His beautiful, sweet woman who would do anything for him. The least she deserved was someone who would do the same for her, and if that meant finding a way to work with her anxiety, then he’d damn well do it.
But how to convince her?
When he pulled up to the hotel, he got out and threw the keys at the valet attendant before opening Becca’s door. She sat huddled in the seat, her eyes wide, nostrils flared, and doing her best to get control of her anxiety. He didn’t even ask her to try to walk. He tossed her purse in her lap then scooped her up in his arms, ignoring the stares as he strode through the lobby and to the elevator. Much to the credit of the staff, one of the desk attendants ran to catch up and hit the elevator button.
“What floor, sir?” The young man looked at Becca, clearly concerned, but she refused to look at anyone. She’d buried her head under his chin the moment he’d picked her up.
Fuck if he could even remember.
“Third floor,” Becca whispered, her voice hoarse.
The attendant rode all the way up with them and used his key card to open the room door for Dimitri. The kid didn’t even wait for a tip, just closed the door. He’d have to remember to look him up later.
He sat on the bed, keeping her in his lap, his arms locked around her, and rocked her. He didn’t know if it would help, but he didn’t know what else to do. She hiccupped, and to his horror, he realized she’d started crying. What the hell was he supposed to do? Crying females usually sent him running in the other direction.