Screw that. More like she’d gotten stuck outside with him.
I stormed over to the door Martin had pointed out, turned the handle and pushed.
The door didn’t budge. That was weird. I tried again, putting more muscle into it. Nothing. Was the handle stuck? These old metal doors were solid, but moisture did a number on them. I jiggled the handle, lifted up and pressed down but couldn’t get a clicking noise. Pissed off, because I knew I’d seen the door open earlier, I raised my booted foot and kicked it.
It crashed open.
I expected to see daylight. Not darkness.
I peered into the opening. “Hello? Annika?”
That was when I heard sobbing.
It was so dark I didn’t just jump in. I pulled out my phone and flipped on the flashlight app.
Sitting at the bottom of the set of stairs, curled into herself, was Annika.
My heart raced and I took the stairs two at a time until I reached her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t move.
I sidestepped her and landed on the concrete in front of her. “Annika. Hey. It’s me.”
After lifting her head, she launched herself at me, babbling incoherently.
I staggered back a step and shifted her weight. “What happened?”
“Not now. Please get me out of here. Please.”
“Okay. We’re going. Hang on.”
I scaled the steps with her clinging to me like a monkey and didn’t stop until I reached the chair where she’d hung her purse. Even after I’d sat down, she didn’t let go of me.
Her body shook so hard I feared she was having some sort of a seizure.
Feeling helpless, I just ran my hand up and down her back and pressed my lips against the top of her head, murmuring, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Her grip on the back of my shirt loosened and she turned her head away from my neck, inhaling a deep breath and then exhaling. “Thank you for finding me.”
“I knew you wouldn’t just leave.”
“Seems like you’re the only one. I thought I’d be . . . locked down there in the dark all weekend and maybe . . .” She started sobbing again. “Sorry.”
I realized there was more to this. My hands slid around to frame her face.
She’d closed her eyes and bit her lip to try to keep from audibly sobbing. Her shoulders heaved.
That broke my damn heart. “Annika. Talk to me. I’m right here. We’ve talked about everything under the sun. You don’t have to hide anything from me, okay?” I brushed my lips across her mouth.
She looked at me. “Feeling your lips on my teeth was weird.”
I smiled at her. “I know. Now that I have your attention . . .”
“Asshat.”
“Tell me what’s going on. And how it pertains to what happened today.”
Annika dropped her gaze and began fiddling with the collar of my T-shirt. “Do you remember on our first date when you asked what was the scariest thing that ever happened to me?”
“Yes.”
“That thing with my brother was scary. But not as scary as when I got locked in the vault at my grandfather’s house when I was six.”
“Vault. Like . . . bank vault?”
She nodded. “The Lund mansion is one of the ostentatious landmarks of wealth in the Twin Cities. When it was built it had the best of everything—I can’t even begin to list all the features. But one of them was a home vault for cash and bonds and jewels and guns. Hidden away in a room, with a locking mechanism. I don’t even remember why I was at my grandfather’s house. I stumbled into his study and he had the vault open. The lights were on and it looked like an open invitation, especially to a snoopy little girl. So I snuck in and started checking out all the drawers. I don’t know how long I’d been in there when someone shut the vault door. The lights went out and I heard the locks click. I immediately started beating on the door, which sounds crazy now because it’s reinforced steel, but I thought someone might hear me.”
“How long were you trapped in there?”
“I think they said, like seven hours. Anyway, I developed claustrophobia after that. I’m fine in cars because there’s more than one way to get out. I hate elevators. And caves. And certain rooms just have that ‘you’re trapped’ vibe. I went on the Haunted House ride at Disneyland and we almost had to leave the entire amusement park because the elevator does actually close in on you.”
“I’m sorry.” I kissed her forehead. “Any idea who locked you in the vault?”
“Probably my grandfather. He could blame it on any number of issues besides the fact that he was a sadistic bastard who probably thought he was teaching me a lesson not to snoop.” She sighed. “Although it did work.”
“So, what happened today . . . how did you end up in the old boiler room?”
She frowned. “I needed more plastic bags and Rausch said that’s where Dallas had been getting them. The door was ajar and the lights were on. At the bottom of the steps, I knew there wasn’t anything down there except for cobwebs and dust. When I started back up the stairs, the door slammed shut and the lights went out.”
“Jensen or Dallas wouldn’t have played a joke on you, because they know about your claustrophobia issues.”
“No one in my family knows I still suffer from it.”
“Why haven’t you told them?”
“Because it’s embarrassing, all right? They knew I had closed-space issues when I was a kid. They assumed—I led them to believe—I outgrew it. So I didn’t dare admit that phobia has just gotten worse over the years. I’m a grown woman. I should be able to handle it, not turn into a basket case.” She shuddered.
That left that fucker Rausch as the person who’d slammed the door. So obvious after he was the one who’d sent her down there in the first place. Did the dickhead have delusions of somehow rescuing her? Proving to me—and to her—that he knew her fears better than I did?
My phone buzzing in my pocket yanked me out of the fantasy of my strong hands wrapped around his scrawny neck.
Annika tried to scramble off my lap. “Sorry. You’d better get that.”
I held her in place. “It’ll keep. What are you sorry for?”
“That you had to find me a blubbering mess and then calm me down. I appreciate it. Even when we don’t have an audience to witness how devoted we are to each other.”
“Because that’s all I was concerned with when I couldn’t find you—making sure everyone knew how worried I was about you? God fucking forbid I actually care about you, Annika.”
“Do you?”
I got right in her face, close enough she could see the mix of emotions in my eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s getting harder to separate the PR couple from the real couple.”
“Then maybe we should reassess why it’s not working. Why it’s never really worked.”
Her back snapped straight. “Like we ought to throw caution to the wind and be puck buddies for real.”
I went still. “Was that sarcastic?”
“Gee, do ya think?” She jabbed her finger into my chest. “You have been all over me this week with the excessive PDA. Acting the part of the possessive boyfriend today in front of Rausch and your friends. I think even you’ve started to believe it. Then all that touchy-feely, ass-grabbing, kissing stuff reminds you that you’ve been celibate longer than you’ve ever had to be in your adult life. You’re horny. I’m convenient. And everyone already thinks we’re boinking like puck bunnies anyway, so why not make it real, right?”
So tempting to do a slow clap after that indignant speech.
Too bad it was all bullshit.
Annika hated that I’d witnessed her vulnerability and I knew she had a dark moment from her past that put a deep chink in her Iron Princess armor.
No surprise she’d come out swinging at the first person she’d opened up to about it. I snorted. It’d practically taken a damn crowbar to get h
er to open up. Then she’d turned it on me and hit me in the spot where I was most vulnerable, where she knew I’d strike back at her with equal ferocity if she poked at it. Then I’d leave angry and she’d reset the distance between us.
Not happening.
“Was that necessary? Taking a shot at me? Where you knew it’d cut the deepest?” I asked her.
She blinked at me as if she couldn’t believe I’d taken that tack and not attacked her. Then contrition distorted her face and she started to cry again. “I’m sorry. God. That was such a bitchy thing to say.”
“Yes, it was.”
After she’d stopped crying, she buried her face in my neck. “Don’t hate me, Axl. I couldn’t stand it if I kept pushing you away and you actually left.”
“Give me a little credit. We Swedes are made of sterner stuff than that.”
“See? You’re so calm and understanding and I’m just a hot and cold pain in the ass.”
That was the first time in my life anyone had ever called me “calm and understanding.” Sort of pathetic, really. “You’re wrong about something. That ‘hello, hot stuff’ kiss today was for no one’s benefit but mine.”
“So you weren’t jealous when you saw Rausch touching me?”
I sighed. “Okay. I was jealous. Maybe I was showing off a little for my buddies that such a beautiful woman was into me.”
Annika smiled against my chest. “The truth comes out.”
“It always does.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I knew you’d react that way if I kissed you. It’s always explosive between us, especially if we haven’t seen each other for a couple of days.” I brushed my mouth across the top of her head. “So you are going to forgive me for the excessive PDA.”
“Cocky much?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Because I know you enjoyed the hell out of it.
“Axl. I can’t even think straight when your hands are kneading my ass like that.”
I squeezed her firm flesh from side to side. “Have I mentioned a benefit of me being your real boyfriend is I give killer massages?”
“That must’ve slipped your mind because you were too busy slipping your tongue into my mouth.”
“Clever girl.”
A few beats passed before she said, “Tell me something.”
“Is this another one of your quirky getting-to-know-you questions?”
“No, but it is random.”
“Ask me.”
“Would you have expected to spend the night with me after your exhibition win if the press conference hadn’t happened?”
That was definitely random. But I wouldn’t complain that her thoughts had veered toward us and sex. “I didn’t expect anything. I would’ve asked you again. Or maybe I would’ve had better luck if I’d tried to convince you.”
Annika angled back to rest her forearms on my shoulders. “Have I acted like that’s all it’d take for me to get naked with you? A few hot make-out sessions?”
“No. But here’s a question for you. Would you have made me work for it?” I tilted my head and started pressing openmouthed kisses to her throat. Even after working in a dusty building all day, she smelled like honey and oranges.
“Of course. That’s part of the appeal, isn’t it?”
With her? Absolutely. I wouldn’t have bothered with anyone else. “You sure that making me work to convince you that I’m worth the risk wouldn’t have been punishment for me?”
“Why would I want to punish you, Axl?”
“Because you believe I’ve never had to work very hard to talk a woman out of her clothes and you wanted to prove you’re special and worth the extra effort?”
“Oh, I don’t think there was much talking done at all with your track record.”
I paused, half afraid that my reputation was about to come between us again.
But she surprised me, tilting her head, nudging me to get back to kissing her neck. “Besides, you didn’t speak the language, remember?”
I chuckled with relief because maybe this would finally be a nonissue between us. “Body language is international. No translator required.”
“Now who’s being clever?”
“And my quick comebacks aren’t even the best thing I can do with my mouth,” I whispered in her ear.
She shivered.
I continued to taste the delicate skin of her neck and slide my hands up and down her back. Slowly. Letting my thumbs graze the sides of her upper body, from the curve of her hips, to the contours of her waist and rib cage, stopping to caress the underswells of her breasts. For the first time . . . ever I wasn’t in any hurry. I wanted to savor her reaction to my every touch. To my every kiss. For the first time . . . ever I wanted to focus on giving pleasure rather than receiving it.
But what I wanted didn’t matter, because I had to go.
“So, are we okay?” she asked.
“We’re better than okay, because we’re finally admitting we can’t control this thing between us.”
Then Annika kissed me. It was a sweet, soul-sustaining kiss that guaranteed I’d be back for more.
“Thank you for being here for me today.”
“You’re welcome. Can we set aside time to talk about this next week?”
“Yes. I’ve got a crazy schedule at work, so can we be fluid with the day and time?”
“Sure. Just keep in touch with me.”
“I’ll text you. Good luck, Ax-hell.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
I could tell she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.
There was the sign I’d been looking for that things between us really had changed.
• • •
Wednesday night Annika and I met for a cocktail, since she had to work late.
I wasn’t sure if Peter had chosen the venue or if she had, but this was one of the trendier places in the Twin Cities. Annika fit the surroundings with her sexy, yet business casual attire and the fact that she turned every damn head when she sauntered in.
Two guys in particular needed their heads snapped off their necks for leering at her tits as if there’d be a test later on her bra cup size.
Annika smoothed her hand across my chest. “Stand down, Thor.”
“Thor?”
“Now that I know there is no Santa connection, linking ‘The Hammer’ and Thor was next.” She paused. “Dude, you had to see that one coming.”
“I’d expected something less obvious from my clever girl.” I directed her to the two stools at the far end of the bar by the windows.
“It is an obvious comparison when you are a supersized version of the actor who plays him.” She tilted her head back, and her gaze roamed my face. “Say something sexy with an Aussie accent.”
I kissed her nose. “No.”
“For future reference, I hate being kissed on the nose.”
“For future reference, I hate being called Thor.”
“Then it looks like you’re stuck with Ax-hell, Ax-hole and asshat,” she retorted.
“You’re in a mood.” I handed her the drink menu.