Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (4 page)

Caroline drops down into the chair opposite my desk and frowns. “You still won’t tell me what this is all about?”

I sigh and run my hands back through my hair, which only reminds me of a hair-pulling Savage fantasy I had earlier this afternoon.
Shit.
I release my hair and let out a deep breath. Caroline is my best friend, and I would love to be able to share my Abello story with her, but I refuse to spill anything until I have the story wrapped up with a pretty bow around it—it’s just too dangerous.

“No, Caroline, but it has nothing to do with you, or me not trusting you. It’s just better if no one else knows this information. It’s safer that way.”

She gives me a leery look. “You know, when you talk that way, it makes me hella nervous, girl.”

I wave her off and bend to grab my purse and briefcase. I toss them over my shoulder, and she follows me out of my office. “You don’t have to worry about me, Caroline. My dad taught me how to take care of myself.”

Before he died, Dad ensured his girls knew basic self-defense skills—as much as you can teach that to a five and a twelve year old. Thankfully, I’ve never needed to use them. But, getting on the wrong side of a guy like Abello was probably not what my father contemplated when instructing me.

Still, I refuse to back down because of some potential perceived danger. That wouldn’t be doing my job, and I would feel like utter shit if I let my suspicions go. Maybe it’s because my dad was a cop and spent his whole life trying to put douchebags like Abello away, or maybe I have some innate moral compass compelling me, but either way, I can’t just let this get buried. If I did, I feel like I’d be letting myself, and my father, down. Dad died protecting people from Abello’s type of scum, and I’m not about to let him continue his control over this city.

“Your bravado is exactly what concerns me, Danika.”

I smile at her, grabbing her arm and tugging her toward the elevator with me. I definitely need to get some drinks tonight, and I know Caroline is always up for whatever, so I try to steer the conversation away from her unfounded fears. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

Mostly.

After three days of agonizing Savage fantasies and frustrating non-movement on my story, I walk into my office and immediately see an over-the-top bouquet of at least a dozen white roses occupying the center of my desk. Glancing up and down the hallway, I check to see if the person who left them might be lingering nearby, but the entire office is empty. I’m almost always the first person in, and it’s barely seven a.m.

How did these even get delivered?

My bags slide down my arm and onto my chair. I don’t know why, but finding this in the middle of my desk in the deserted office is making me more than a little nervous. I refuse to acknowledge it might be related to my current investigation; that means admitting Abello can get to me.

A small, white envelope is nestled in the petals and I reach in and pull it out. I slip my finger under the seal and open it. I’m half-expecting it to be from my sister, as an apology for all the shit she put me through in the last couple weeks. She knows I love white roses, and there aren’t really any other possible senders.

Except maybe Max.

I met him the same day I met Savage. Caroline and I went out for drinks, and it wasn’t like I was looking—okay, maybe a little bit—but he was there, and so damn hot with his dark hair and flashing blue eyes. He reminded me of Savage, a little too much. We had amazing sex that night, but I just couldn’t get there. I’ve never
not
been able to orgasm. Talk about fucking frustration!

I would have stayed with him longer and continued to try, but I kind of ruined the mood by accidentally whimpering Savage’s damn name when Max had me pinned against the wall, his cock buried deep inside me.

Smooth, Dani, real smooth.
Just remembering the look on his face and the tensing of his body makes me cringe.

Pulling the card from the envelope, my heart races when I see the elegant, sloping scrawl of the writing in the note, certainly
not
Nora’s handwriting.

Ms. Eriksson –

Dinner.

Friday.

Angelo’s.

8:00 p.m.

Savage (504) 202-5555

That pompous bastard!

I throw the card onto my desk and, knocking my bags down to the floor, drop into my chair in a huff.

That arrogant prick!

Who the hell does he think he is? What makes him think I would ever even consider going to dinner with him? He didn’t even ask. He just demands with a goddamn four-word note?

Presumptuous fuck!

A litany of curses spew from my mouth as I stare at the beautiful flowers taking up the majority of my desk. As if it isn’t bad enough I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him since I met him, now he’s demanding my presence at dinner?

I won’t go. He can sit there, alone, waiting for me. That will teach him a lesson about how he treats women—damn pussy peddler.

And Nora defended him! Thinking back to my conversation with her earlier this week, I find it hard to believe we were talking about the same man.

“He’s not as bad as you think,” she’d insisted.

“Yeah, right. He pays women to shake their asses and tits for pervs. I’m sure he’s an angel.”

She’d sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “Really, Dani, he’s not a perv, at least, not with us. He’s really a good boss and doesn’t ever cross the professional line with anyone.”

The way she told it, he’s some kind of fucking saint, acting like an overprotective big brother to all the girls working for him and taking care of them whenever they get into any kind of trouble. If she had her way, he would win a fucking Nobel Peace Prize.

“Professional? You call parading naked women across a stage for men to gawk at professional?”

She glowered at me, and I knew I said something I shouldn’t have. “Look, Dani, I get that you don’t approve of me dancing, but it’s my decision, not yours. I’m happy doing it, so why can’t you just leave it alone? Savage is a good boss who takes care of us. He always thinks about the girls’ well-being. I’ll be okay.”

Well, she may have full confidence in her boss’ motives and glowing character, but my experience with Savage couldn’t have been more different. The man is self-centered, arrogant, holier-than-thou…and fucking beautiful. How the women at the club are immune to his good looks and radiating sexuality is beyond me.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since the second I saw him sitting regally behind his desk, the master of his pussy universe. He doesn’t belong in an office. He belongs in the movies, preferably a porno, where I can see what he has under those clothes. His broad shoulders and the fabric straining across his biceps had me practically begging to touch him.

I shake my head.

No, fuck him. He can sit and wait for me, forever. I am not giving in to his arrogant demand.

The card goes into the garbage can under my desk and I turn to my computer and pull up my email. I barely have time to read the first one when I hear a familiar squeal from behind me and drop my face into my hands, letting out a groan.

I should have trashed the flowers, too.

“Ho. Ly. Shit! Who the hell sent you roses? Have you been holding out on me, girl?” Caroline grabs the back of my chair and spins me around to face her. She glares at me momentarily before she begins digging around in the flowers.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Looking for a card so I can find out who sent these, since you have obviously been keeping important information, like the fact that you have a new fuck buddy, to yourself. Oh, my God, is it that guy from the bar the other night? Max?”

I surreptitiously push the garbage can further under my desk with my foot while Caroline is still nose-deep in the long stems. The last thing I need is her finding the card and asking all sorts of unanswerable questions.

“There isn’t a card. There isn’t a fuck buddy. They’re from my sister.” The lie slips out so quickly and so easily, I’m confident she’ll buy it.

Turning to face me, she props her fists on her hips and gives me the “you have got to be fucking kidding me” look. “Your sister? Nora, broke college student, Nora, sent you two dozen white roses that probably cost over a hundred bucks?”

Shit. Maybe I should have thought out that great lie a little better.

Caroline doesn’t know about Nora stripping yet.  I hate keeping things from her, but Nora asked me not to say anything, and I can’t rat out my own sister, even to my best friend.

“Yeah, she got a job and wanted to thank me for all of the support I’ve given her recently.”

Caroline laughs and sits on the edge of my desk. “Girl, I don’t know why you don’t want me to know who really sent these, but you can drop the act. You’re a terrible liar.”

She’s right.

I know any other attempts at deception will be pointless, but that doesn’t mean I have to give her the whole story. I let out a sigh of resignation before dropping my head down onto my desk. “Ugh, fine, they’re from this guy I met the other day, and no, before you ask, we haven’t fucked. He’s my sister’s new boss.”

I don’t have to be able to see Caroline to know her mouth is agape and her green eyes are bulging out of their sockets at the prospect of a new man in my life.

“And just how did you come to meet Nora’s new boss?” she asks, the sing-song tone in her voice making me curl my fists at my sides.

There isn’t any point in continuing to keep it from her. She knows me too well, and she’s the queen of poking and prodding until she gets what she wants. The only thing she
hasn’t
been able to get out of me is the subject of my big story.

“I went to make sure she was being treated right.”

“Ha! I bet you a million dollars you went there to give this poor guy a hard time.”

I lift my head and throw my best death glare at her. If I didn’t love her so much, she might be the recipient of a cunt punch.

“You telling me you didn’t?”

Crap. I did.
I push back from my desk, stand and pace around my office, glancing quickly between the flowers and Caroline.

“Okay, so I kinda gave him a hard time. To be honest, I have no fucking clue why he sent these.” Maybe actually talking about it with Caroline will help me work through my strange obsession with him.

“Was there a card?” She smirks, and I know she knows there was one and that I probably disposed of it.

“In the garbage, under my desk.”

She leans down, grabs the can, and pulls the small, white card from the top. As she reads it over quickly, I watch her eyebrows rise. “Holy shit, he’s asking you on a date!”

“No, no, he isn’t. He’s demanding my presence at a certain place at a certain time. He isn’t
asking
me anything.”

Fucking beautiful arrogant asshole…

“Aaand that’s a problem because…?” she asks, circling her hand in front of her in an incredibly condescending gesture.

“Because, I am not one to let a man dictate when, or if, I do something.”

Caroline doubles over in laughter, tosses the card on my desk, and makes her way toward the door. “That’s a good one, Dani. Just remember, I know all about you and what you let men dictate.” She disappears around the corner and I collapse back into my chair, the offending card mocking me from the desk.

Fuck. What now?