You Have To Be Mine(The Possessive Billionaires Book 1)(6)

By: Heather C. Adams

“Why are you doing this?" Shit, she didn't mean to sound ungrateful. "I mean, it's just a bump on the head; I can take care of it and get out of your hair.”

A scowl washed over his face again, “I told you, you got hurt on my watch, and that's not satisfactory. I owe you.”

“It wasn't your fault; you couldn't have known.”

“That’s not good enough.” His fists clenched beside his legs.

“You said on your watch? What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, taking a big breath in, biting his lip, quiet, deep in thought. "I've been watching you walk to your car for the past six months, Veronica. I should have seen something had Curtis do a sweep of your car before you came out. Something. Anything.”

Her mouth dropped as she stared at her sandwich. Okay, this guy was definitely crazy. Watching her walk to her car…for months? She didn’t know if she should be scared to death that he’d been watching her or jump on him right then and there.

But then again, she should have suspected it. She knew something was different with this man from the moment she met him. Certainly, he wasn’t trying to hurt her by doing it. He was the one who saved her after all. When her blue eyes rose, they clashed with his dark solid oceans that were waiting for hers to arrive.

“You shouldn’t have been looking at your damn phone anyways while you were walking. That’s not safe. You need to be aware of your surroundings.”

Dammit, this man was so hot and cold; still, the slickness between her legs increased every time he spoke.

She blinked widely at him, swallowing hard, “I’m sorry I didn’t-“

He met her lips with his stiff finger again, stopping them, “Eh! I don’t want to hear it. Just do better. If something were to happen to you-“

He bit his lip and threw his hand through his short black hair. He sucked his teeth and jerked the tray of food up, leaving the half-eaten sandwich in her hand and the glass of water on the table next to her. He barreled out the door, stopping before walking through, and looked over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, and she winced, not knowing if she'd be getting thoughtfulness or anger.

He groaned and stormed out the door shutting it behind him.

Veronica's chest waned as she let out a sigh of relief that he was gone. Trying to read him was getting exhausting, and she was so tired. Mr. Devonshire might be grouchy, but he had apparently appointed himself her guard of some sort.

Actually, now that she thought about it, she was so sleepy. This whole thing had gotten more confusing than she could ever imagine. This was information overload for today. She wanted to be home, but she didn’t want to lose her job either, and she was in a beautiful, comfortable bed. She might as well take advantage of it.

Just sleep, Veronica.

She slid down deeper in the large bed, pulling the comforter to her chin, and closed her eyes.

Chapter 3

Darkness surrounded her as her eyes jolted open.

Where am I?

The pillow that was fluffier than hers and the down comforter quickly reminded her this bed was not her own. She dug her head deeper in the plush pillow, closing her eyes. Flashes of the evening before pushed to the front of her thoughts. The man in black. Her landing on the cold cement floor, until she wasn’t…she was in the backseat of another car. Then the voices from the front seat guided her through blurred vision. A warm voice, husky, caring. The doctor. This bed. Mr. Devonshire's bed. Oh God, was she really in her boss’s house? In his bed? She hadn’t realized it last night, but it appeared that she was in his room. Where did he sleep last night then?

How embarrassing.

Her stomach twisted as she pulled her knees up towards her chest. Reaching up to rub the sleep from her eye, she was reminded of the terrible dreams that woke her up more than once in a sweaty mess. It wasn’t until about 3 am that she finally fell soundly asleep. Her skin felt disgusting. She needed a shower. As she grabbed her phone off the table next to the bed and turned off her daily alarms for work, the room lit up from the screen. Thank goodness one of her bags made it from her apartment, just as Mr. Devonshire promised.

She glided her toes through the soft fluffy carpet until she reached the bathroom door in the far corner. She peeked in and saw a large shower and tub with plenty of room to spare. Her tiny apartment had a plenty sufficient tub but nothing like this decadent specimen. How many women had Mr. Devonshire had in that tub? Shaking it off, she made her way to the shower, peeling off her clothes at a puddle by her feet.