Ultimate Surrender Page 4

  Yet, despite how much she’d gotten, two years later, she was still pushing.

  And two years later, Lucian was still reacting to her, even more so than he had in the beginning. She had absolutely no trouble asking for what she wanted, not relenting until she got it.

  That persistence was enough to drive him insane, but it wasn’t the sole source of Lucian’s discomfort. No, that irritating desire for her that had gripped him from the first, and two years later still hadn’t let him go, was responsible for almost all of it, something that the steel-hard erection that tented his pants wouldn’t let him forget.

  4

  “You’re still here, Cassandra?” Sloan called late that evening.

  Cassandra looked up at the sound of her friend’s voice and saw the other woman hovering in the doorway of Cassandra’s office, eyes wide with curiosity and a bit of concern.

  “Yeah. Just finishing a few things up,” Cassandra said, gripping her pen a little tighter.

  “Seems to be happening a bit more often lately,” Sloan said, though Cassandra could see through the casual front.

  “The team keeps me busy,” Cassandra said in response, followed by a quick giggle.

  Sloan gave Cassandra a soft but knowing smile, and then looked at her watch, apparently choosing not to push the issue, though Cassandra knew this would not be overlooked. Still, she was grateful because having to convince Sloan would be difficult, if not impossible, and if her friend had pushed, Cassandra didn’t trust herself not to confess she’d been staying late trying to avoid Lucian.

  It was bad enough she had to admit it to herself, but those moments in the conference room had been playing on a continuous loop. Not the ones where Lucian had adamantly opposed her. It would be so much easier if that was the case. Instead, she was busily thinking about his gaze on her skin, how his eyes had lingered on her breasts, how she wished she’d had the nerve to cross the room and take him up on the offer he hadn’t made. And if she’d seen him again that day, she hadn’t been sure what she might do.

  “Make sure you get home in time to enjoy at least some of your evening,” Sloan said, final proof of her assent, at least for the moment.

  Cassandra smiled and nodded. “I will. Good night, Sloan,” she said.

  “Good night, Cassandra,” the other woman replied, and then she walked away.

  Cassandra listened to the sound of Sloan’s receding steps but made no move to leave as she considered.

  Lucian was probably gone for the day, and the halls were silent. It was the perfect time to make her escape. She’d done enough for the day, and though there were always things that needed to be taken care of, there was nothing that couldn’t wait. So she should leave, but still she lingered.

  And she knew why.

  While she told herself she’d hidden away in her office in hopes of avoiding Lucian, she really lingered with the hope she might see him again. Embarrassing but truthful. She wanted to see him again, even if they argued, that thrill of being near him would make it worth it.

  Ugh. Get up, Cassandra.

  Her voice in her head gave her the push she needed to finally stand and gather her things. She had a home she loved, and she would damn well enjoy it instead of sitting there desperate for a glimpse of a man who didn’t want or value her.

  Resolved, Cassandra stuffed a few papers in her briefcase and then grabbed her purse, moving briskly, hoping if she projected the air of carefree confidence she wanted to convey, she’d eventually begin to feel it.

  As she moved through the hall, her eyes sharp for a peek of Lucian, her hands didn’t shake, but that was because she gripped her briefcase so tightly. Her knees didn’t wobble, but that was because she put every ounce of her focus and energy into walking confidently, striding as though she had not a care in the world, like she wasn’t gripped by the ridiculous but powerful need to see him.

  And it worked too, her heart, which had started to speed, slowing, her grip on the briefcase handle loosening when the elevator doors began to slide closed.

  When the elevator stopped in the garage and the doors opened, Cassandra stepped out of the car, the clack of her heels on the concrete soothingly familiar as she made her way to her vehicle. She’d been later than usual this morning, which had meant she was relegated to one of the farthest spots in the lot, and as she took the long trek, she noticed, and not for the first time, how dark the garage was.

  Cassandra was pretty levelheaded, but she’d never been a fan of the parking garage late at night. She wasn’t worried, not really, but there was a certain amount of uneasiness that came with being in the deserted place all alone. Still, she was more than capable of walking the three hundred feet to her car and began to do so, albeit a little more quickly than she would have ordinarily.

  When she finally reached her car, she breathed a sigh of relief and unlocked the car door. She deposited her purse and briefcase on the backseat and headed to the driver’s side when her eyes landed on the front tire.

  The very obviously flat front tire.

  “Shit!” she said, barely holding back the urge to kick the stupid tire.

  She looked at the car and noticed how dusty her vehicle looked under the dim lights in the garage. Maybe she would get it detailed on Sunday. Not that thinking about detailing would get her any closer to driving home.

  “Ugh!” she said, knowing she sounded insane and not caring.

  She rounded to the back of her car to the trunk, deciding she’d change the tire herself. She didn’t relish the thought of being on the filthy garage floor, but she could change the tire and doing so would save her a ton of time. She reached for the trunk, but something stilled her hand and sent her mind racing.

  Had she unlocked the door?

  She must have. She tried to think back, her mind conjuring the satisfying click of the door unlocking, but Cassandra couldn’t say for sure she had unlocked the door. And if she hadn’t, why was it open?

  Cassandra took a step back from the car, not really noticing that she moved until she was several paces away. A creeping unease began to crawl along her skin, set off a tingling sensation at the base of her neck, and set her heart to beating. She turned and began backing away from the car, determined to go back to the elevator. Roadside service it was.

  When she reached the elevator, she anxiously pounded at the Up button. The panic seemed to intensify at once, her reaction so strong, her gaze wildly bounced around the garage. She pushed the button again. If the elevator didn’t come soon, she was going to ditch waiting and take the stairs because she needed out of this garage.

  She pushed the Up button again, mercifully relieved when she heard the ding and then the doors began to open.

  She kept her eyes on her vehicle as she quickly shuffled backward.

  Directly into a human wall.

  ••••

  “Argh!”

  Cassandra’s choked-out, muffled scream as she barreled into the elevator and into Lucian’s arms was only slightly less surprising than the shock of her warm body pressed against his, her curves a perfect fit as he’d known they would be. But, choosing not to focus on how right Cassandra felt in his arms, against his body, Lucian instead reached for her quickly, closing his arms around hers, trapping her against his chest.

  She went still and then an instant later she started thrashing.

  “Let me go!” she yelled, rocking against him, twisting and stepping on his foot, trying everything to get away.

  He paused a moment, grateful he wore boots, and then Lucian tightened his hold instinctively, which only seemed to make her twist harder and yell louder.

  “Cassie! It’s me,” he said, trying to keep his voice urgent but not further scare her.

  She redoubled her efforts, frantically trying to break his grasp, but he held her tighter, his alarm rising with each passing second.

  “Let me go!” she screamed.

  He held her tighter and then quickly surveyed the garage. Cassandra hadn’t fully
entered the elevator, so the doors started to close and then popped back open, giving Lucian a view of the place. Everything looked in order, and Lucian, who was trained to spot threats, saw nothing.

  Which left the question of what she was afraid of, one he knew she wouldn’t answer yet, couldn’t, not when she was as terrified as she seemed now.

  He pulled her back into the elevator, finally letting the doors close and earning him another foot stomp. He ignored it and held her even tighter, then leaned close and pressed his lips against her ear. Lucian had never been this close to her, felt the satin skin behind her ear or smelled her sweetness so fully, but while this moment was one he had no doubt he would replay, he focused on calming her.

  “Cassandra, it’s me. It’s Lucian,” he said, though this time his voice was a near whisper, so quiet that it was nearly lost in her screams and the sound of her ineffective thrashing against his arms.

  But the whisper seemed to work. She stopped thrashing and twisted her head to look at him.

  When Lucian glimpsed her eyes, it was like a kick in the gut. Her eyes were unlike he’d ever seen them, wide, shiny, almost liquid with fear.

  That kick intensified. This terrified creature wasn’t Cassandra, not in any way he’d ever seen her.

  “What happened?” he said, his training taking over even though his mind was still reeling from the sheer terror he’d seen on her face, from the overwhelming need to protect her.

  “Cassandra,” he said, his voice still a whisper but edged with an order now.

  She shook her head. Looked at him and then toward the still-closed elevator doors.

  Lucian had been so preoccupied, he hadn’t even noticed the elevator had gone up, but as the doors opened, the building’s lobby was revealed, empty and dark, yes, but not threatening at all. When Cassandra looked out into the lobby, her eyes were sharp as she seemed to take in every square inch of it.

  By increments she relaxed, her body, which had been tense, melting into his as she sighed in what could only be called relief. She stayed against him for long moments, moments that tested Lucian’s ability not to respond to the warm woman in his arms, suppress the desire to tighten his arms around her.

  But the moment was short-lived. She blinked once, twice, and then she stood a little straighter, the first sign that she was getting back to herself. When she twisted again, he dropped his arms and kept his features schooled to hide his disappointment at no longer having her near.

  She took two steps back, practically hugging the elevator wall, and though she stood tall, had recovered her usually controlled expression, Lucian could still see the haunted look in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing hard.

  Lucian couldn’t recall Cassandra having ever said those words to him, but the moment didn’t have nearly the impact it would have normally. Couldn’t have the same impact because Lucian was only concerned with a single thing, and that was what had shaken his unshakable Cassandra so thoroughly.

  He almost asked her as much but he stopped himself before he revealed the depth of his own emotion. The words almost came out, but they didn’t, and instead he asked the other question that plagued his mind.

  “Cassie, I don’t want to hear how sorry you are. I want to know what happened.” His voice grated out of his throat, more revealing than he wanted it to be but only barely touching the depth of his feeling for her.

  A robust shake of her head and the way she tilted her body, standing even straighter, told him she had no intention of answering his question and also made her look almost like her usual stubborn self.

  Almost but not quite.

  Cassandra was not a quitter, though, so she said, “I’m sorry. I just—I just had a little fright. My tire’s flat, but I’m too tired to wait for roadside. I was just going to call a cab.”

  His rage was instant, so hot and intense, he could no longer stand still. He shifted, the elevator car larger than most others but feeling far more confining than he could handle at the moment. After quickly punching the Open Door button, he moved closer to her, eyes locked on hers.

  Were it not for the shadows that still shrouded her eyes, the tiny hint of vulnerability he saw and knew she so desperately wanted to hide, he would have yelled his anger and frustration. “A little fright?” She’d been in a complete panic, and now she was trying to hide it, didn’t trust him enough to admit it or ask for his help.

  Lucian decided to call her bluff.

  “No need to call a cab, Cassie. I’ll drive you,” he said.

  There was no way she’d accept. He knew that her pride, her stubbornness, her absolute insistence on never allowing him in would keep her from it. So he waited for her to protest, knew it would come. And when he saw the slight flicker in her eye, he prepared himself for her rebuke.

  “Thank you,” she said in a voice that was eerily like Cassandra’s but not.

  The concern he’d felt before was nothing like the worry that wormed through him in that moment.

  Cassandra never gave up without a fight.

  Ever.

  Which meant she’d been even more afraid than he’d first thought, a fact that pushed his protective instincts into overdrive.

  Lucian looked down, watched as Cassandra pursed her lips and then swiped her hands down her skirt, the nervous gesture jarringly unusual for her. When he met her eyes again, he saw more of the Cassandra he knew, saw that stubborn streak he knew meant she would not answer any question he might ask, particularly what had her so shaken up. If he pressed, she’d change her mind and reject his offer.

  “I’m parked out front,” he said, and Lucian frowned when he saw her body tremble with her exhaled sigh of relief.

  He settled his hand at the center of her back, and she didn’t protest when he guided her out to his vehicle. They made the walk in silence, but this conversation was far from over.

  Cassandra would tell him what he needed to know, whether she wanted to or not.

  5

  As Lucian drove away from Silver Industries, it occurred to Cassandra that she’d never been so happy to leave the building if only to get away from the embarrassment of her own silly overreaction.

  She sneaked a glance at Lucian, allowing herself to hope he hadn’t noticed, though she was sure he had. The relief that one sideways glance at him gave only intensified her emotions. She was embarrassed, deeply, that he’d seen her in such a state, embarrassed he might now think of her as weak, a possibility that made her heart squeeze.

  Yet…

  She couldn’t pretend that being here with him didn’t make her feel better, calmer. Safe.

  Cassandra began worrying her thumb against her forefinger, something she did when she was nervous, a habit that she hadn’t been able to kick no matter how hard she tried. She and Lucian didn’t often see eye to eye on much, but what Cassandra never doubted was his respect for her, a respect that was now in jeopardy.

  Cassandra didn’t pay the scenery that passed any attention until Lucian turned and guided the SUV down her street. She looked over at him again, this time not trying to be surreptitious.

  “Should I be surprised that you know where I live?” she asked, unable to stop the tiny play of a smile on her lips.

  He turned into her cobblestone driveway. “Nope,” he said as he threw his vehicle into Park.

  The ride was over, and almost instantly, the embarrassment that had slackened a little and the last little tendrils of fear that remained intensified. Cassandra gave a mental headshake, determined to ignore both, and then she turned her body toward Lucian, met his eyes.

  “Thank you for the ride, Lucian. Have a nice evening,” she said in her most distant and professional voice, falling back on her old trick of projecting what she wanted to feel despite what she might actually be feeling, which, at the moment, was anything but distant and professional.

  “No thanks are necessary, Cassie,” he said.

  She started to object to his use of that grating nickna
me, but before she could speak, he had unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door. He stepped out lightly and, moving with that lithe gracefulness that still surprised her in a man of his size, he rounded to the passenger door and pulled it open.

  She clumsily unbuckled her own seat belt and then got out. When her feet touched the driveway, she met his eyes again.

  “You’re walking me to the door? That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice a little more high-pitched than usual, her hope that Lucian would leave giving her words more urgency than she wanted to reveal.

  “Where’s the key?” he asked, voice completely even-keeled, but the intensity in his eyes as they fell on her made her look away.

  Gaze glued to her purse as though it contained the secrets of the universe, she rooted around in search of her keys. She always put them in the same place, so that she wasn’t able to immediately retrieve them was yet another sign of how shaken she was.

  When she finally found the keyring, she pulled it out, gripping it tight in her hand like it would settle her, which seemed an impossibility in the face of Lucian Silver’s intensity focused on her. She kept her eyes averted and then, after a deep and not remotely calming breath, she lifted her gaze back to his.

  “Lucian, thank you,” she said, extending her hand.

  It was patently ridiculous, her offering her hand to shake as though she hadn’t known him for years, as though she hadn’t just told herself how safe she felt with him.

  So, yes, this distant reserve was ridiculous, but she needed to do something to help her regain her bearings, and polite reserve seemed like the best option.

  “Give me the key, Cassandra,” he said, his eyes still intense but darkening more as he watched her.

  She scoffed, the sound high-pitched, almost frantic. “The keys? I’m more than capable of opening—hey!”

  Her fingers grasped for the keys but closed around air because Lucian had taken them from her fingers and was now standing in front of her door. Once he’d unlocked the door, he pushed it open and then stepped inside. A second later, he looked at her, tilted his head in question.