“Q…he was only being—”

“I don’t f**king care what he was being.”

Franco shrugged. “She’s my boss too, you know. Have to keep the employers happy.” Two very strong and opinionated male egos clashed. Lowering his head, Franco glared under his brow. “Keep your anger for those who deserve it, Mercer.”

Franco gave me a smile. “Like I said, you’re safe with him and I’m always there as back-up.”

Q coughed as if he couldn’t believe Franco’s nerve.

My emotions toward Q’s head of security were mixed. At the beginning I’d hated him, then I grew to care for him, seeing him as a loyal employee, but now…now I sensed he’d been initiated into Q’s world a bit too well. He seemed dangerous—wearing the same edginess and unpredictability that Q did. Whatever happened in their hunt to find me, Franco had adopted the darkness.

I doubted Suzette would be pleased. I always had a suspicion she had a little crush on Franco. I knew Suzette was madly in love with my husband to be, but it wasn’t sexual love, more like a saviour complex, kind of love.

“That’s comforting to know. Thank you.” I pressed against Q, trying to unwind the tightness in his body.

I wanted to ask what Q had done in Brazil, but a grisly still-warm heart leapt into my mind and suddenly I didn’t want to know—I had enough filth inside my brain.

Q bared his teeth. “Yes, very comforting. Now f**k off and flirt with someone else’s woman. I won’t need you for the rest of the night.”

Franco splayed his hands, brushing away the angst between them. “Book me a room, and I’ll stay out of your way. You know my number if something happens.” Giving me a small salute, he grinned. “Enjoy your evening. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about whom to fear.”

“Franco! As-tu perdu la tête, putain?” Have you lost your f**king mind? Q was absolutely livid. His eyes narrowed to slits, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.

I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye as Q grabbed my elbow, charging me toward the entrance. I looked over my shoulder, relieved to see Franco laughing, fully enjoying getting a rise out of Q. At least he hadn’t quit or aimed a gun at Q’s back.

“Q, it’s okay. He was only trying to—”

“I know what he was trying to do, and it damn well worked. Fucking idiot.” He nodded tersely at a man in a green suit who opened the large glass doors for us. “I have no right to be pissed off, yet I can’t stop it. Guess I’ll have to apologise.”

I shivered as we walked from island heat into freezing air-conditioning of a five star glitzy hotel. I wanted to say something—anything to have the Q who’d been so gentle and forthcoming come back.

There were many forms of pain, and right now my heart was suffering.

“Pain is your only option, puta. Hit her.”

I closed my eyes for a second, slapping the voices away.

Q stalked through the hotel lobby, dragging me in his terrible wake. Needing to find normal again, I asked, “Do you own this hotel, too?” I blinked, focusing on the imposing pillars, the ginormous potted plants, and grand piano with expensive looking cocktail bar to the right. The lobby spoke of island tranquillity and exoticness.

All this—this wealth—came with the package of being with Q. I still struggled to get used to it.

Q slammed to a halt, yanking me against him.

Instantly my heart clawed up my throat. The burning, searing awareness of his erection dug against my belly. His eyes looked too ferocious to be gentle.

He’s going to hit you. The minute you’re behind closed doors he’ll strike.

I wanted so much for the rush of wetness between my legs. The intoxication of lust in my blood.

“You wouldn’t like that would you, esclave? Yet another property; yet another possession.” He shook his head. “Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu détestes autant l’argent.” I don’t understand why you hate money so much.

My heart pumped harder as a few guests glanced over, their faces freezing in judgement. To anyone who didn’t know us, the way Q held me would look like a bad argument or worse, domestic violence.

“Q, don’t be so rough. You’ll have security asking questions.”

He growled, “I’d like to see them probe into affairs that aren’t any of their goddamn business.”

I couldn’t stop the knotting of my stomach or the slight queasiness of Q’s temper. Something else must’ve upset him. Franco couldn’t have riled him up this much. Could he?

Wishing I could force him to look at me instead of through me, I whispered, “Is everything alright?”

“Don’t speak to me,” Q muttered. His tone tightly controlled and ice cold.

I’ve done something wrong.

I was sure of it.

He’s guessed.

No, that couldn’t be possible. Please, don’t let that be possible. Only moments ago he’d been sweet and kind and very much together. Would I always suffer whiplash where his mercurial emotions were concerned?

Looking around at the milling guests, I hissed, “Stop making a spectacle, Q. People are looking.”

“They can look all they want. And to answer your question, no, I don’t own this hotel. If I did, I would’ve kicked everyone out by now so I could teach you a lesson right here.”

My eyes flared. “Teach me a lesson? What the hell did I do?” My lungs worked harder, saturating my blood with anger, ready to fight, ready to retaliate.

“You—you….Goddammit, I don’t know.” He sighed. The blazing fire in his gaze snuffed out, becoming human once again.

My own temper fizzled. Taking a risk, I rested a palm over his heart. “Take me to a room. Use me to forget whatever’s upsetting you.”

Use your chains. Use your scissors. Use whatever you want.

Before the image would’ve made me throb for a release. Now…now I vibrated to avoid it.

His shoulders tightened. “I’ve wanted you since you woke up screaming this morning.” His hand imprisoned mine, pressing my fingers harder against his chest. “I won’t hold back. I can’t hold back. Tell me now if that’s going to be an issue.”

Tears rushed my spine. Sadness filled my heart.

Yes, it’s an issue. But no, I won’t tell you.