14. Vin

The moment Hannah returns from the deli with lunch, I can tell something is wrong. She's withdrawn, quiet and uncommunicative. She's just not her usual cheerful self and I wonder why. Is it because of what happened between us earlier? Does she regret it? I hope not because as much as I'm trying to keep the physical stuff separate from the emotional crap, it hurts me to see her upset.

You can't fall for her,I tell myself. You absolutely cannot lose your heart to another woman.

Not after what happened the last time.

After my brothers leave, Hannah and I start to work on a new project together, and the scorching heat between us earlier that nearly set us on fire is completely gone. It's as though her mind is a million miles away.

At one point, I flat-out ask her what's wrong. She shrugs my question off, says nothing and changes the subject. But, I can read her too well. Something is definitely bothering her and I vow to find out what.

I quickly find out that Hannah is stubborn as hell when she wants to be. She clams up and closes off, making it clear that the conversation is over. Maybe for now, I reluctantly concede, but I will find out what's going on in that pretty, little head of hers.

The rest of the day flies by because we're so busy and I realize how much I love working with Hannah. Having her by my side, listening to her opinions and suggestions is exciting because she has such a fresh, original and youthful outlook. She's also passionate about the brand and her job. And, God help me, I'm passionate about her.

I want her so damn badly. On a deep, primitive level that's starting to make me a little—okay, a lot—crazy for her. So nuts, in fact, that after she says a quick goodbye and races out the door, I follow her.

I have never followed a woman before in my life.

But, I'm extremely concerned and suspicious about her sudden mood swing when she returned with lunch. Her normally cheerful demeanor had completely evaporated. Something had happened while she was out and, dammit, I'm going to find out what.

And if I have to kick someone's ass, I will. Because nobody is allowed to upset my angel like that. Fucking no one.

Keeping my distance and making sure to stay out of view, I follow her down to the lobby, watch her walk outside and head straight over to a BMW. Squinting, I try to see through the glass and get a glimpse of the driver, but the windows are tinted and the car is parked at an angle. I can't make out shit other than it's a flashy, red sports model.

No thanks. I much prefer my Mercedes to that "hey, look at me" car. Pathetic.

When Hannah pulls the door open and gets inside, my heart freezes up because I get a glimpse of the driver. Fucking Caleb Durant. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to storm over there and yank Hannah back out of that car.

My heart sinks. Why is she going with him? What don't I know? What kind of game is she playing? Why in the hell would she willingly go with that asshole? My hands clench into fists and I bite down so hard, I'm surprised that I don't crack a tooth. Immediately, my first response is anger; then, my fractured heart fills so heavy with doubts that it sinks like a brick in my chest.

I've been cheated on before and it's what damaged me so thoroughly that I've avoided serious relationships for years. Cynda fucking broke me. Now, seeing Hannah go off with another man infuses me with jealousy, confusion and fury.

But, after a minute, I begin to think more logically. She called me half-scared to death after her last run-in with Durant. Why would she not be afraid of him now? What the hell is going on? And, above all, why didn't she confide in me if something is going on?

As the car pulls away from the curb, I bolt outside and head straight to my Mercedes. Luckily, it's still parked at the curb where Enzo dropped it off earlier after borrowing it. His car is in the shop and after our lunch, he needed to run an errand. Like the good brother I am, I said okay. Of course, in typical Enzo fashion, he left it out front with the valet who said I'd get it later. That was hours ago. Luckily, the valet isn't going to allow the president's car to be towed.

Pulling out into traffic, I keep my eyes on the BMW. The bright red car stands out in traffic, so it's easy to spot, and I make my way closer, weaving in and out of the other cars, taxis and buses. It's rush hour, so the streets are jam-packed and I pay close attention to where Durant is taking Hannah.

Taking my Hannah.

The idea of them together makes me sick. Something has to be going on. But what? Determined to figure it out, I follow them all the way to Valentino's, some swank, little restaurant near the docks. While Durant pulls up to the valet, I park illegally and wait, growing more pissed with every passing second. Something isn't adding up. Maybe I should just walk away, but the protector in me needs to know that Hannah is alright. When she gets out of the car, there's no missing the miserable look on her face. She doesn't want to be there and my wobbly heart steadies.

And, if she doesn't want to be here then I'm going in to rescue her. Even if I have to plow through Caleb Durant and forcefully remove Hannah from the situation. I don't give a fuck. Right now I'm feeling edgy and supremely pissed off. No one—and I mean fucking no one—takes my angel away from me and makes her do something she doesn't want to do.

Flashbacks from the White Auction fill my head and I remember how Durant looked at Hannah that night. Like he wanted to fuck every orifice of her body and then swallow her whole. It makes me sick.

Once they're inside, I pull up to the valet, get out and hand the guy a crisp one-hundred dollar bill. "Watch my car. I won't be long."

He pockets the money fast. "Sure thing, sir."

With a nod, I march up the steps and, right before I enter the restaurant, doubts punch me in the gut and heart. What if they're on a date? What if I just imagined she looked miserable? What if the jealousy burning through my veins right now is making me lose my damn mind?

It's hard for me to draw in a breath much less think clearly and I storm by the hostess podium and scan the restaurant. The lighting is dim and the atmosphere is romantic Which, of course, only angers me further. By the time I see them sitting beside each other at a corner table, my blood pressure is skyrocketing and everything in my vision is a hazy red.

Not thinking clearly, fueled by rage, I stalk up to their table. "What the fuck is going on here?" I demand. I don't even try to keep my voice low or mask my anger. It's already hit the boiling point and there's no holding back. Pretending to be civil is beyond me and, at this point, impossible. I'm fucking livid.

Caleb's eyes go wide then narrow into tiny slits while Hannah blows out a breath that can only be described as relief. She also looks shocked as hell to see me.

"Not that it's any of your damn business, Rossi, but Hannah and I are on a date," Caleb states in a superior tone that makes me want to punch him in the face.

I turn my attention to Hannha. "Is this true?" I ask.

Her face pales at my question and she's fumbling with the napkin on the table. When she doesn't answer me right away, my suspicions return. This morning my fingers were knuckle-deep inside her pussy as I made her come hard on the conference room table. And now she's out on a date with this scum? Nothing is adding up and my head is spinning.

Why isn't she answering me? Why isn't she begging me to take her far away from this asshole? I don't understand what's going on. All I know is I'm not about to let these two finish their so-called date.

It's fucking over.

"C'mon, Hannah. We're leaving."

"No, Rossi, she's not," Caleb says in a low, smug voice.

Again, she hesitates and my heart twists in my chest. Why isn't she jumping across the table and leaping into my arms?

"Yeah, she is," I state firmly, "and if you try to stop her, I'm going to kick your fucking ass all over this restaurant."

"You wouldn't dare." The bastard leans back in his seat, drapes his arm across the back of Hannah's chair and has the audacity to smile at me. Durant is so sure of himself, so damn cocky, and I've had enough. Then he really pushes me over the edge when he says, "Make yourself scarce, Rossi. The lady isn't interested."

All of my anger focuses on Durant and I reach across the table, grab him by the lapels of his suit and drag him forward. Dishes and glasses clatter to the floor and Hannah gasps, jumping up and out of the way. I pull my fist back and slam it into his face. Durant goes flying backwards, hits the wall and drops like a sack of potatoes.

But, he doesn't stay down. Instead, he jumps back up and charges, hitting me in a low tackle in the knees, and knocking me flat on my ass. We roll around, throwing punches, and I can hear the diners around us getting upset.

But, I don't stop. I can't. It's like something possesses me and all I can do is fight. Durant is surprisingly strong and he gives as good as he gets. I manage to get some well-placed hits in, but so does he. Eventually, someone yanks me backwards, away from Durant. At the same time, a waiter is pulling him off me, too.

Now that we've been broken apart, I'm done. Getting out of here is my first priority and I shrug off the man holding my arm, stalk forward and wrap my fingers around Hannah's upper arm, pulling her toward the exit. I pass the manager who I know and grunt, "Send me a bill for any damage."

Once we're outside, I practically drag Hannah over to my car, open the door and push her inside. Then I walk around, get in and squeal away from the curb. I need my anger to die down before I ask her for an explanation. Hannah, on the other hand, is ready to talk. And, to my utter surprise, she blasts me.

"What is wrong with you?" she exclaims, turning to face me in her seat. "Do you have any idea what kind of scene you just caused?"

I shrug a dismissive shoulder, not caring in the least.

"Someone could've been hurt or worse," she scolds me.

I try to reel my temper in, but my fingers tighten around the steering wheel and, for the first time, I notice my bloody knuckles. My cheekbone hurts, too, and I glance in the rear view mirror to see it already looks like it's swelling and bruised. Fucker. Seeing that just makes me madder. Hannah is still talking, but I've tuned her out. That is until I hear her say, "I'm not yours!"

That one statement pulls me back into the argument I was trying to avoid. I really didn't want to say something I might later regret, but it's too late now. Beyond pissed, I spin the wheel and turn the car into a nearby alley. I shouldn't be driving while I'm feeling this emotional and upset, anyway. Slamming the car into park, I turn my full attention to Hannah.

"What're you saying? Your his? You belong to him?" I seethe.

"What? No!"

I throw my hands up in absolute frustration. "You're driving me so goddamn crazy I can't think straight!"

"You don't understand," she tells me.

"Tell me then, Hannah. What don't I understand? Because all I know is you didn't look like you wanted to leave him."

"Of course, I did!" she shouts. "But…I couldn't."

"That doesn't make any goddamn sense!"

"Neither do you! One minute you're hot and the next you're cold. I can't read you, I don't know what you want from me anymore. You want sex and then push me away and turn cool," she accuses.

My eyes narrow and I'm one step away from showing her exactly what I want.

"Maybe you're just playing games. Or, I'm imagining things and whatever happened between us...." Her voice trails off. "It didn't mean anything. All I know is I don't belong to you any more than I belong to Caleb Durant."

That does it. I grab her arm, pulling her closer. "If I remember correctly, your blood was on my sheets. Or have you forgotten?"

Her blue eyes widen in shock then narrow. "You're such a jerk."

"You're mine, Hannah," I growl, yanking her onto my lap. "Whether you like it or not."

The last of my control snaps and I slam my mouth against hers, claiming her. She makes a frustrated sound before melting against me. The kiss is wild, out of control and feral. I'm marking her as mine and making sure she knows it. My patience is long gone and all I know is I am desperate for her. Dying to sink inside her hot, wet pussy and take what's mine. What's always been mine since the night she gave me her virginity.

Scorching need drives us together and she's writhing against me. There isn't much room to maneuver, but I shove the seat back to give us a couple of more inches. Grabbing her skirt, I yank it up to her waist and rip her silky panties right off, tossing them into the backseat. Hannah gasps then makes a sexy mewling sound as I release my rigid cock. She grinds against me and my hips slam up, sinking deep into her soaking wet pussy.

We both let out a long groan then she begins to move, drawing me deeper, as I pump into her. Our mating is out of control and fierce. I've never had sex like this before. I have zero control over my body, over my emotions, over what's happening between us. All I can do is thrust into her, desperate to be one with her.

I yank my mouth free from hers and suck in a deep, shaky breath. My fingers drop, find her clit and begin massaging hard. "Say you're mine, Hannah," I hiss, pumping furiously, bouncing her up and down on my lap. "Tell me."

"Oh, God!" She squeezes my dick hard and has it in a chokehold as she rides me. "Vin…"

"Say it!" I order, my voice a harsh rasp.

"I'm yours!"

"Fuck yes, you are." I increase the pressure on her swollen clit and she arches back against the steering wheel, hitting the horn. We both ignore the beep, though, as our orgasms come crashing down around us, propelling us into pure, radiant bliss. "And don't you fucking forget it."

My entire frame shudders hard and my release empties into her tight, little body. It belatedly occurs to me that we just had wild, unprotected sex, but I can't think too hard about that right now. My cock is still spurting deep inside her core and I dig my fingers into her fleshy ass, my hips still pumping.

Fuck.

I think I'm falling in love with Hannah and that scares the shit out of me. Because it can't happen. I won't let it. Despite what my stupid heart wants.