Toxic - Zoe Blake Page 0,27
threw my arms wide, dropping the scarf I had wrapped around me. “You mean the dead bird you left for me to find? Yes, I know about it!”
Richard ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath. He paced a few steps away, then turned and swiftly approached me. “Why would you even think I would do such a petty thing?”
Now that he was asking the question, it suddenly made sense. The dead bird was a petty gesture. Richard was a man of dramatic, all-consuming gestures. He didn’t do petty. Still, I was in too deep to turn back now.
“I saw you! I saw you walking away from the car on Bond Street right before I found it.”
Richard rubbed his jaw as he listened to me. Shaking his head, he responded, “Whoever you think you saw, it wasn’t me. I was across town, stuck in an endless board meeting.”
Crossing my arms over my stomach, I shook. “What about that conversation I overheard with Harris?”
“You mean the conversation where Harris informed me of the threat against you, that I should have heard about from you the very moment it happened? You mean that conversation?” he barked.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I had gotten this all wrong.
Fuck!
Grasping at my last straw, I pointed to my Jimmy Choo purse lying next to my abandoned train seat. “The bloody feather! What about that?”
Richard stretched his arm over the seat and snatched up the small gold clutch. Opening the metal clasp, he dumped the contents on the seat. The bloodied grey and white feather floated down to rest on top of my brooch and lotion.
“Goddamn it,” he rasped as he stared at the bloody threat before returning his gaze to me. His dark eyes glittered with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me with this, Elizabeth?” he roared as he started toward me. “Do you have any idea how much you put your life at risk by keeping this from me?”
Stumbling backwards, the narrow aisle gave me no room for escape. My back slammed against the frosty glass and metal door that separated the train cars. Richard raised his arms to cage me in.
His breathing was as labored as my own. Resting his forehead against mine, he asked, “Do you enjoy torturing me like this, my love?”
Leaning back, I scanned his face to see any sign he was joking. His jaw remained rigid, his gaze steady. He was serious. “Torturing you? How am I torturing you?”
His hand wrapped around the top of my neck, under my jaw. “You like playing these games, don’t you?”
His body pressed into mine. I could feel the hard ridge of his cock against my stomach. Almost without thought, I shifted my feet wider, opening myself to him, already feeling the familiar warm rush of arousal.
His lips trailed along my cheek to my ear. “You like making me chase you. The drama and adrenaline rush of bringing a man like me to his knees.”
Oh, my God.
His other hand moved to palm my breast through my dress as he rasped, “How often have I told you how much I love you… how I would do anything for you? And how many times have you dared to test me on that?”
His mouth moved to my neck. I moaned as my fingernails dug into his upper arms. “Admit it, baby girl. Not once, when you’ve said it was over, did you really mean it. Not once have you run without expecting me to give chase.”
Desperately, I tried to block out the truth of his words. Was it possible all the games I thought he was playing were actually my own?
The kaleidoscope I was caught in spun.
Hadn’t I liked it when he had gotten jealous over the professor? I hadn’t even put up much of a fight when he had told me to leave school. I actually preferred the classes and internships he was setting up for me. Hadn’t I practically begged to get caught going to that play audition? Both Richard and Jane have told me the Victorian game was my idea. I knew for certain I had tried to escape at least twice… but were those all just power plays by me? Attempts to get Richard’s attention and force him to once again prove I was his everything by making him chase me?
Didn’t I relish his possessive, controlling demands? Oh, God!
From the beginning, I’ve questioned why a man as handsome, rich, and intelligent as Richard would want a girl like me. Had I been seeking