Beautifully Cruel

Chapter 16

JENNIE

A fleet of black SUVs awaits in the dark alley behind the restaurant, steam billowing from their tailpipes.

"Stay," he orders. Then he climbs in beside me and we pull away.

The bodyguard with the icy blue eyes who told me to be careful the night I got out of the hospital is behind the wheel. He glances at me in the rearview mirror. His expression is less hostile than last time. In fact, he almost looks worried for me.

It's small comfort.

I'm shaking all over. When we go over a bump in the road and I gasp, Taehyung reaches out and grasps my wrist. He holds it tightly, as if he's expecting me to leap out of the car the moment we pause at a stoplight.

I try to pick through a thousand chaotic thoughts to find something to say, but it's like trying to catch the wind.

Panicking, I try to catch my breath. Taking deep breaths doesn't help. Neither does Taehyung's grip on my wrist.

When we get into the heart of the city, the driver turns into the underground parking garage of a modern black glass high-rise. It stretches so far into the sky, I can't see the top.

I sit still, breathing raggedly, until he comes around to my side, opens the door, and unbuckles the seat belt.

He grasps my upper arm, helps me out, and strides to the elevators with his fingers curled possessively into my flesh. One of the suits pressed the call button when we pulled in, so the elevator doors are opening as we walk up.

When we're alone inside the elevator and the doors slide shut behind us, Taehyung turns to me and grabs me in a rough embrace. Then he crushes his mouth to mine.

He kisses me like his life depends on it. His mouth is hot and demanding, and I'm helpless to resist.

No—I'm not helpless.

I'm not a wilting flower, or a weakling, or a damn damsel in distress. I'm the daughter of an iron-willed Southern woman who turns grown men into frightened children when she gets angry. I've got her fire in my veins, her pride and self-respect, and I won't be carted off like a bag of groceries and turned to mindless mush by a bossy Irish mobster, no matter how much I like the way he kisses.

I push Taehyung away and slap him across the face.

He jerks back, breathing hard, and stares down at me with wild, glittering eyes.

I say, "Do you really think I'm going to fall into bed with you after you just crashed my  dinner, manhandled my friend, bragged about being some kind of mafia kingpin, and threw me into your car like a piece of luggage?"

"That's the plan."

"Not my plan."

He glowers at me. The elevator stops. The doors slide open. He says darkly, "We'll see."

Then he picks me up in his arms again and walks me inside his home.

Taehyung carries me through the apartment without a word. Automatic lights blink on, lighting the space in a muted glow. His footsteps echo off the marble floor as I cling to his shoulders, my pulse racing.

"Put me down, Taehyung."

"In a minute."

We enter a bedroom larger than my entire apartment. More lights flick on. The room is huge, with a fireplace at one end and a king size bed at the other. The space is masculine and sophisticated, and decorated entirely in shades of gray and black.