“Why are you being like this?” Suddenly I felt like crying again. I was struggling to hold back tears, the same as when he’d told me about my father having his brother murdered.
My words seemed to honestly confuse him. “Like what?”
He leaned against the porch railing, watching me as intently as any cat. I suddenly realized we were standing quite close together. Very close together…but I didn’t try and move farther apart.
“Like you’re a normal person,” I snapped. “As if you haven’t scared me to death, kidnapped me, tied me up—”
“Brought you to meet my mother?” he interrupted.
I was gritting my teeth. “I refuse to believe that kind woman is genetically related to you. She found you at the pound and pity-adopted you.”
He grinned. “And that’s why I’m not afraid of what you’ll tell them.”
“Because of your mother?”
“Yeah. And you’re right. I didn’t know you when I kidnapped you. I made a split-second choice from a bunch of bad options. But I know you better now. I don’t believe you would do anything to hurt my family.”
His eyes told a more elaborate story:You know my family has been hurt enough.
“I don’t understand why you’re giving me a choice,” I shot back. “If you don’t need me as a hostage anymore or if you suddenly ‘trust’ me, why ask me to go with you to that safe house or whatever it is?”
“Because I’m worried about you.”
That stopped me cold. I realized I was gaping at him and shut my mouth with a snap. Was he expecting me to melt after he said something like that?
“I’ve been taking care of myself perfectly fine without your help or your concern. I don’t need someone like you worrying about me.”
“You’re right.” His stare hardened. His jaw set. His expression suddenly darkened as he leaned even closer. “It’s taking every bit of my self-control to even offer you a choice. Every instinct tells me that I shouldn’t give you back to a man I hate, a guy I’d never trust, and a bastard who’d hide a nice, juicy target like a hundred million in cryptocurrency inside his daughter’s luggage without even telling her.”
I opened my mouth to protest that there was no proof that my father was involved in any of this. But I couldn’t say it. It was heartbreaking, but I no longer had enough faith to defend my own father.
Leon leaned even closer to me. My stomach filled with butterflies, and my heart began beating fast. “I want to protect you, Sofia.”
“Because I’m your problem?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Because you’remyproblem, Princess. And I don’t like to share.”
Leon slipped his arms around me and drew me into his embrace gently but irresistibly. A gasp slipped through my parted lips, then his mouth was on mine in a kiss that had my head spinning. His lips were so warm. His eyes were cold, but his lips were warm.
For a moment, I was so stunned that I didn’t push him away. My body pressed against his, his mouth pressed against mine, and all my coherent thoughts seemed to fly out the window in favor of the sensations in my nerve endings. My hands tightened on his chest, clutching his coat desperately. His kiss stirred an ache deep inside me, desire and need so intertwined that I couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.
Finally, he drew back, ending a kiss that left me reeling. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with heat in his gorgeous green eyes and a self-satisfied smile on his face.
My hand flashed out, and I slapped him hard enough to turn his head and leave a bright red mark on his cheek. I wrenched myself away from him.
He let me go without protest and without trying to stop me.
“You don’t get to kidnap me and then kiss me,” I spat at him, my hand tingling from slapping him so hard.
I was shocked that I’d hit him. I don’t think I’d ever hit anyone in anger in my entire life. But Leon MacCarrick had me tangled up in hopelessly unsolvable knots.
“I don’t regret it,” he admitted with that same cocky grin and the same desire in his gaze.
The bastard. That bright red mark on his fair skin seemed so accusatory, making me feel truly terrible. God, I hoped his mother hadn’t seen me slap him. I didn’t want her to hate me too.
No, what was I saying? Why was this all so confusing now?
“You should apologize to me.” My words were a little breathless, betraying me.
