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Mine to Hold


Noah didn’t plan to let this guy anywhere near Claire. “I’ll be sure and pass that along to her.”


Austin’s jaw hardened. “I’m not like them. I want to make this right.”


“Then walk away from her and never look back.”


Austin blew out a hard breath. Then he turned and stormed for the door. His hand curled around the knob. His shoulders stiffened. “I think it’s my fault.”


Noah slowly uncrossed his arms. “What’s your fault?”


Austin spun back toward him. “Before he died, Ethan said…he told me that I was the one who saw her first. I’d forgotten about that. It was so long ago. Another life.”


Noah advanced on him.


“I must’ve made some comment. Said I was going to ask her out. Ethan was always so competitive with me. I said I liked her, so he had to cut me out. He went after her first.” He gave a miserable shake of his head. “I brought Claire to his attention. He wanted to one up me, and he did it—”


“By taking the girl you wanted.”


“Ethan hated me.” His hands were shaking. “I realized just how much…at the end.”


“The dead can’t hate anymore. They can’t do anything.”


Austin nodded but his shoulders slumped. “I want to tell her myself. Just say how sorry I am.”


“No.”


“Look, I—”


“No one in the Harrison family ever needs to see Claire Kramer again. You say you’re sorry? Then prove it. Stay the hell out of her life. Claire doesn’t need you and she doesn’t need your apologies.”


Austin’s lips pressed into a thin line.


Noah stood toe-to-toe with the man. “Claire isn’t your concern anymore.”


“How do you fit into this?” Austin’s shoulders straightened. “You and Claire are lovers, okay, fine but—”


“Claire is mine.” That was all that needed to be said. “Now, Harrison, seeing as how your business isn’t in New York, I’d advise you to get out of my town.”


Austin held his gaze.


Noah waited. This guy would be leaving town, one way of another.


Then Austin sighed. “Right. No business in New York, and no one left in Alabama. Maybe it’s time for me to try something new.”


“Maybe.” Noah yanked open the door. “But stay away from Claire.”


Austin stepped into the hallway. But he lingered. Lingered. “I guess I had this wrong.”


He sure as fuck had.


“If…if someone is after you and Claire—you protect her, got it?”


A warning, from that jerk?


“I figure she’s been through enough,” Austin whispered, and then he finally walked away.


Noah stared after the guy. Yes, she has. It was time for Claire to know more than just blood and death.


***


Noah York would be a problem.


The man’s guard was up. It wouldn’t be so easy to lure him into another attack.


And Noah would have men watching Claire. Making sure she didn’t slip away.


He thinks Claire is his.


Noah was dead wrong.


An attack would come again. He just had to be careful. Had to wait and plan. Had to draw out his enemy.


And I know just how to do it.


Noah had left loose ends in D.C. Those ends would come back…and bite the guy in the ass.


Chapter Ten


“We’re going out tonight,” Noah said as he strode into Claire’s office.


Claire smoothed her hand over the faint ridge near her hair-line. The stitches had come out yesterday. The doctors had given her the all-clear.


It had been eight days since the bombing.


Eight days during which Noah had treated her as if she were going to shatter if he touched her too hard.


He made love to her each night. Slow, tender sex. His control was always in place. He made sure she came, and then, he found his pleasure.


He held her during the night.


And he had a giant wall between them during the day.


Something had changed. Something was off between them. His stare was too guarded when he looked at her. His voice was too careful.


His touch was too careful.


Is he already finished with me? And he just doesn’t know how to tell me? Maybe her time with him was up.


“There’s a big party tonight in the hotel’s main ballroom—”


“I know,” Claire told him, slightly annoyed. “I’ve been working on details for it most of the week.” Only he hadn’t exactly been around to see that. The guys from Weston Securities weren’t camped out by Noah’s suite any longer, but Claire still had a guard. Drake was the one who tailed her like a shadow during the day. While Noah—she wasn’t sure where he went.


Or what he had been doing.


The party that night was to celebrate the one year anniversary of the opening of the New York branch of York Towers. It was supposed to be an epic event, with all the local power brokers in attendance. Claire had figured she’d be working behind the scenes, and she already had a to-do list that stretched a mile long for—


“You’ll be my date,” Noah said.


Her brows climbed. “Thanks for the invitation.” Yes, her voice had bite. Something is so wrong. He was barely looking at her.


But at her snapped words, his gaze did shoot to her. “I’ll have a dress sent up for you.”


“You already did that, remember?” Claire pushed to her feet. “The first day. You bought me a whole wardrobe. I don’t need anything else.”


“You’ll need this.” He turned away. “Head upstairs. It will be there within the hour.”


What? “Noah, stop.”


Surprisingly, he did. Noah glanced back at her, and, of course, his gaze was guarded. No expression was on his face. She felt like screaming. Instead, Claire managed to semi-calmly ask, “What’s happening?”


“We’re getting ready for a party.”


Her teeth snapped together. “You know what I mean. Things are different between us.” Was it because she’d pushed him to reveal more of his past? Was he trying to shut her out now?


“Nothing has changed.” He turned back for the door.


Liar, liar.


“Are we finished?” The question slipped from her. She’d more than passed his one night limit, so maybe it was time for her to go and he just didn’t know how to tell her because of the train wreck that was her life. But there’d been no more attacks. No more—


“No, Claire,” the words were growled and Noah didn’t look back at her, “we’re far from finished.”


***


When Noah entered his suite, he found Drake lounging on the couch. Drake glanced over at him, brows raised. “Don’t you look fancy?”


“Fuck off, Drake.” He was already wearing his tux. He’d changed earlier, before Claire had made it up to the suite. He’d slipped in long enough to see the dress that he’d ordered for her. Then he’d headed back downstairs to make sure the staff was set on security guidelines for the night. When he’d left the suite, Drake hadn’t been there.


“In the last thirty minutes, you’re the second person to tell me that I should fuck off.” Drake gestured toward the closed bedroom door. “Claire told me the same thing when I asked why she had tears in her eyes.”


Noah’s fingers tightened around the small, discrete box in his hands. “Claire was crying?”


“No.” Drake rose, slowly unfurling from the couch. “Claire doesn’t cry. She had tears in her eyes, but they never fell.” He approached Noah and the guy’s face held a hard flash of…anger? “But I think you probably know why they were there.”


Are we finished? He’d hated that question. “Thanks for watching her this week. Trace went to D.C. to chase down some leads, and—”


“Why were you trying so hard to stay away from her?” Drake asked him.


He looked down at the box. “She was hurt.”


“And you were busy hunting.”


Noah’s gaze rose once more.


Drake laughed softly. “That’s it, right? When you ran off each day, you were looking for the jerk-off who set that bomb. And you wanted me here because you knew I’d take a bullet for your lady.”


“I haven’t found him.” He was turning up jackshit everywhere he turned. “Sloan Hall’s crime scene was swept clean. There wasn’t anything there. And at the Claymire Hotel bomb scene—”


“Nothing was left but rubble,” Drake finished.


Unfortunately. “This guy isn’t just going to vanish. Another attack is coming, and I have to be ready.”


The bedroom door opened.


“Are you ready for her?” Drake whispered as he backed away.


Noah’s gaze locked on Claire. So beautiful.


Her dress was the same blue shade as her eyes. It hugged her breasts, revealing the sexy curves of her body so perfectly. There was a long slit in the dress, one that flashed her gorgeous legs as she walked.


She looked sophisticated. Sexy.


Mine.


She’d tied ribbon around her wrists again, and, as he stared at her, Claire tucked her hands behind her back. “The dress wasn’t necessary,” she said quietly. “I had plenty of things to wear—”


“It was necessary for me.” Because tonight, he had plans. Big plans.


I’m not going to wait for an attack. I want the asshole to bring it on. Noah had never been the type to hide from a fight.


“I figure you got things now,” Drake murmured as he gave Noah a little salute. “See you at the party.” He made his way to the door.


When Drake was gone, Claire’s gaze dropped to Noah’s hands. “What’s that?”


“A present.” He had to clear his throat because the words came out too rough and hard. “For you.”


Her lips quirked a little at that. “Well, I was hoping you hadn’t bought jewelry for yourself.” She walked toward him. The slit in her dress parted, his cock jerked, and he had to remember—


Control.


“Stop that.” Claire’s voice held a surge of heat that surprised him.


“Stop what?” Now he was confused. “Getting you presents? Most women don’t usually complain about gifts.”


Claire gave a hard, negative shake of her head. “Stop shutting yourself off from me. I could actually see you doing it just then.” She didn’t reach for the jewelry box. “And I’m not most woman.”


He knew that fact too well.


He opened the jewelry box. Offered the diamond bracelets to her.


Claire’s breath caught. “Those are beautiful.”


The diamonds caught the light, shining even more. Very rare, the natural blue diamonds had cost him a fortune—and they were worth every penny that he’d spent.


They were the same shade of blue as her dress.


The same shade to match her eyes.


“I had the bracelets specially made for you. I’d hoped they would be here sooner.” He put the jewelry box down on the table. Reached for her right hand. His fingers slid over her wrist as he pulled the ribbon away. “You won’t need this anymore.” He took out one of the bracelets. The diamonds were surrounded by gold, a tight band that would slide over her wrist and hold easily in place.


He slid the first bracelet around her wrist. It fit her perfectly.


Then he removed the second ribbon from her skin. He eased the other bracelet into position around her wrist.


The bracelets were savage in their beauty. The blue diamonds gleamed, and the gold cuff design of the bracelets gave the jewelry a harder, sensual edge.


“Noah…”


His head lifted. He stared into Claire’s eyes. “I don’t want you to ever feel self-conscious again. Those scars don’t define you.” They just prove you’re stronger than death. He stepped back. “We need to hurry downstairs. I should—”


“Thank you.”


I don’t want your thanks. I just want you. He straightened his tux. “There will be a large number of photographers and reporters in the hotel tonight, so you need to prepare for their questions.”


Her fingers slid over the bracelet on her left wrist. “Am I supposed to be your assistant tonight? Or your lover?”


The question caught him off-guard. “You’re both. I thought I made that clear.”


Her fingers kept stroking the bracelet.


I want to see her in those bracelets and nothing else.


By the end of the night, he would.


“You don’t fuck your employees, remember?”


“You’re more than an employee.” Soon, everyone would know that.


He offered her his arm. “Time to go.” There would be no going back after this.


She touched him lightly. Her body pressed against his. The woman smelled delicious.


Her fingers curled around his arm. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’m worried.”


“You shouldn’t be.” He caught her hand. Lifted it to his lips. Pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I want you to trust me.”


“I do.”


The instant words seemed to slam into him. Noah forced a smile. “Then you have nothing to fear.”


***


The packed hotel ballroom had Claire’s knees knocking together. Energy filled the air. Laughter and drinks were flowing freely.


And it sure seemed like reporters were everywhere.


Claire and Noah had barely gotten past the gleaming, marble steps in the ballroom when the first set of reporters closed in.

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