What He Demands (What He Wants, Book Three) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) by Hannah Ford Page B

mean?” I shifted on the booth,
uncomfortable.   Somehow he had
already turned the tables, and now he was questioning me, instead of the other
way around.  
    “I mean did you come here tonight because
you wanted to accuse me of murder?”
    I thought about it.   “Haven’t you already been accused of
murder?” I shot back.
    “Have I?”
    “You’re talking in circles.”
    “Why did you come here tonight,
Charlotte?” he pressed.  
    He was making me nervous.   He was looking at me like he wanted to
fuck me, his gaze smoldering, his eyes full of want.   But he’d taken his hand off my knee and now he was leaning
back against the booth.   He was
wearing a soft-looking black sweater and the sleeves were pushed up, showing
muscular forearms.
    I didn’t like that he’d moved away from
me.   Now that I was here, I wanted
him close to me.   I hated that he
had this power over me, hated that I’d come here to confront him about
something, and now he was the one in control.
    But why had I come here? I wondered.   Was it that I wanted an
explanation?   If I did, then why
didn’t I just come out and ask him for it?  
    Because you’re afraid of the answer.
    “I came here because you invited
me.”   My hands twisted in my lap,
and I wished I had a drink to keep me busy.   I looked around for a waitress and spotted a beautiful
blonde in a gold minidress setting a round of glasses down on a table a few
booths down.  
    “Look at me when I’m talking to you,
Charlotte,” Noah demanded.
    It was like a reflex.   I turned my attention back to him, my
eyes snapping back onto his.
    “Good girl,” he said, like it pleased him
that I could follow directions.   He’d said the same thing when I was sucking his cock.   That I was pleasing him turned me on—then
and now.   “Now answer my
question.   Why did you come here?”
    “I came here because you invited me,” I
repeated.   “And because I wanted to
get to know you better, like you said.”   It sounded lame and cliché and such a girl thing to say, but I didn’t
care.   I did come here because I
wanted to get to know him better.   I wanted to know something about him, anything.   If he had brothers and sisters, if he
liked his job, what his favorite color was.   Right now he was like a completely closed door, and the lock
was proving impossible to open.
    “And you thought you could get to know me
better by accusing me of murder?”
    “No.”   I shook my head.   “I wasn’t accusing you of murder.”
    “You came here and showed me a picture of
two dead girls, which by the way, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be doing in
such a public place, and then you compared the marks on their wrists to the
marks on yours.   Marks that I put
there.”
    “I wanted an explanation.”   I kept my eyes on his, daring him to
contradict me.   I didn’t care how
devastatingly sexy he was, or how successful, or how much he turned me on.   I deserved an answer.
    “For what?”
    “For the fact that two dead women have
marks on their wrists identical to the ones you put on mine.”
    “So what you’re saying is that you
believe I am the only person capable of putting marks on someone’s wrists, is
that correct?”
    “Don’t talk to me like a lawyer.”
    “Then don’t make me feel like I need
one.”
    He took another sip of his drink.   I wanted to look away from him, because
he still had that look on his face, the conceited look of a man who is
completely in control of a situation and knows it.
    “Fine,” I said.   “Yes, I think it’s a little suspect that you happened to
leave marks on my wrists that are identical to two murder victims who also have
a connection to you.   And while in
theory, yes, there could conceivably more than one person going around leaving
marks on women’s wrists, I doubt it’s that prevalent.”
    I stared at him, satisfied.   I expected him to give me a look of
appreciation.   I felt like I’d just
won my