He glances around and his shoulders stiffen slightly. “Come with me.”
I stumble behind him as he leads me away from the information desk. We weave through the crowd, moving briskly.
“What are we running from?” I ask, panting as I keep up.
“Our tail.” He grunts.
“Did your dad send someone to spy on me? How long have they been watching?” My face pales.
“It’s not just my dad.” He shakes his head. Messy blond hair curls under his ears, damp with rain. “It’s a long story.”
We fast-walk through the airport. His grip on me is like granite. Everything about him is hard-concrete, from head to toe. From skin to soul.
Did he really declare his love for me over the airport PA?
Dutch Cross?
Ruler of Redwood Prep?
More cheesy than heroes at the end of a romantic comedy?
My lips curl up.
He glances over his shoulder and his eyebrows furrow. “What’s so funny?”
“Everything with you has to be intense, doesn’t it?”
His nose scrunches. He doesn’t understand.
I don’t either.
A light, bubbling feeling is spreading through my body. Whatever danger Dutch is sensing, the sensation inside me is ten times more lethal. It’s consuming. Blinding. The kind of resolution that made Romeo and Juliette choose a tragic ending.
A kind of violent, all-or-nothing, take me to hell and back kind of commitment.
The curse of love.
Now, it’s settling around me.
A tight hug.
No resistance.
Dutch leads me to the entrance of the VIP section.
“Mr. Cross.” Someone unclips a velvet rope.
He drags me inside without acknowledging him.
Once the door closes, I step around in a slow circle, my eyes wide.
“Is there a hotel in the airport?” I gawk, temporarily distracted by the sofas, counters lined with snacks, and massage chairs.
“It’s a private lounge.” He sweeps the curtains closed and locks the door.
I watch him prowl the room and shivers run down my spine. Love didn’t soften him the way it softened me. He’s still moving darkness. Hard edges. Shadows shifting through his eyes. He’s still the cruel leader of The Kings.
But he’s also…