Passing His Guard

“Good evening, Ms. Andrews.”

That voice . . . Oh, God help her, it was him. Instant dawning registered, the co

If she could just get to it . . .

A few steps from the top stair, a beefy hand clamped around her ankle and the man jerked her feet out from under her. A terrified scream tore from her throat as Rya

CHAPTER

26

Welcome home, Mr. Kruze.”

Aiden froze. The delay in translation from English to understanding left him standing there a moment, staring at the doorman like a complete idiot. God, he was a wreck. Unable to get his mind off Rya

“Thank you, Fredrick,” Aiden mumbled in passing. “Wish I could say it was nice to be back.”

Forcing one foot in front of the other, he felt like he was walking toward a prison cell instead of approaching his four-million-dollar pad. Stopping in front of the elevator, he hit the Up button, and when the doors slid open he shuffled inside. Turning to the keypad, he entered the six-digit code to his penthouse and stood there numbly waiting for the elevator to take him to the thirty-second floor.

He should call Rya

“Fuck . . .” he groaned, dragging his hand through his hair and looking up at the ceiling. His gaze caught the red light of the camera in the corner. “Hey, that you, Roz?”

“Good evening, Mr. Kruze,” the feminine voice called over the intercom. “Is everything all right?”

“Just peachy.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, sir, I hardly recognized you. I see you’ve done some redecorating.”

He grunted a humorless laugh and subconsciously tongued the hoop through his bottom lip. No doubt he was a sight: piercings through his brow, his lip, his ears, and sleeved in tattoos exposed by an ill-fitting, grungy V-neck. His reflection in the steel doors proved his hair was a wild mess after he’d dragged his hand through it a hundred fucking times since dropping Rya

“Is this not working for you, Roz?”

“I umm . . . Well, it’s just . . .”

Aiden chuckled, a half-hearted rumble in his chest at the woman’s shock and obvious discomfort. The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. “See ya later, sweetheart.” He gave the camera a saluting wave and stepped into the hall.

“Good evening, Mr. Kruze,” she responded stiffly. “It’s good to have you back.”

He wasn’t back—well, not for long, anyway. Aiden entered the code to his front door and stepped inside. Kicking off his shoes, he walked into the dining room and emptied his pockets into the decorative bowl in the center of the table—keys, wallet, cell phone . . . Shit, he should really call Rya

Pristine white walls with an occasional abstract painting placed here and there by his interior designer, adding a splash of color to the otherwise cool and impersonal dwelling. He wouldn’t call it a home. There were no family pictures lining the mantel of his fireplace, no personal effects lying scattered around. Aiden stopped as he passed the glass wall in the living room, pausing a moment to take in the Manhattan skyline.

It was one of the few things he loved about this place, and it was the sole reason he’d purchased it three years ago. It was an impressive sight to behold, and one that resonated someplace deep inside him. It was times like this, late at night, where he would stare out the window at the towering buildings, the lighted bridge stretching across the water, and imagine how easy it would be to just disappear. This beautiful view was the one thing he would miss . . .

The phone rang, fracturing the first moment of blessed peace he’d had in days. Muttering a nasty curse, he turned from the window and crossed over to the couch and dropped into a lazy sprawl before lifting the receiver from the docking station on the end table. Caller ID confirmed what he already knew. “Hi, Mom.”

“Aiden, you’re home. So nice of you to let me know you’d arrived.”

Ignoring the barb, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn, he was tired. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Rya

“I just got back. Whatever you want, can it wait until tomorrow?”

“I was calling to let you know the reservation for Pret was moved to ten a.m. Your father has an early meeting—”

“Of course he does.” Good to know some things never changed.

“Well then, I’ll see you at ten.”

“Yep.”

She hesitated a moment, giving him the sense she wanted to say something more. She must have thought better of it, because after a long pause, she said, “Good-bye, Aiden.” And the line went dead before he could respond.

When Aiden’s alarm went off the next morning, he glared at the piece of shit and sandwiched his head in between two pillows. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours all night, and at this point, he felt like he was ru