Protecting it All (The Punishment Pit #6) - Livia Grant Page 0,2

of this handsome, successful man's attention. It felt even better to think of Jake helping her professionally and, if she was honest with herself, personally as well.

Jake was good at reading body language and must have known how close she was to finally agreeing to take the next step with him. He upped the ante. "Why don't you give me one night? Let me take you to my home office where you can see where you'd be working most often. We can take the next step to making you mine, and you can decide if you like where things are headed before you close the door. Can't you give me a chance?"

She was unprepared for Jake to sound vulnerable, yet that was the word that came to mind. She knew in that minute that the ball was in her court, and she suspected the dominant man sitting across from her didn't allow that to happen often. He was asking for her to trust him. Surely, she could give him one chance, right?

"Okay. One night. I'd like to learn more about the work if I could," she said.

"You've made me a happy man, Hannah. Let's get out of here and go back to my place to iron out the details of your employment contract."

Hannah

Thirty minutes later, Hannah was zooming along the Pacific Coast Highway in Jake Davenport's Corvette Stingray. The plush leather interior of the sports car felt luxurious against her bare thighs, her short skirt exposing more skin than she should have allowed. The night was clear. The light of the full moon reflected off the ocean, bringing an eerie calm to the silent drive.

She'd tried to convince Jake to let her drive herself, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"You've had several drinks, Hannah. It's not safe for you to drink and drive. You'll ride with me. I'll bring you back for your car another day."

It was an order, not a suggestion, making her uneasy. She had of course noticed Jake's tendency to take control and, in some ways, it was a relief. As he had astutely pointed out at dinner, she was weary of having to plan ahead, of being the responsible one. Would it hurt to just let him take care of her for a bit? He'd been pursuing her for weeks and he'd succeeded at wearing her down, quieting that inner voice that had been shouting he wasn't what he portrayed himself as.

She had let herself be led to the car and buckled in by Jake, and before she knew it, they were pulling up in front of a large, brick, ranch-style home that somehow seemed too domesticated for Jake Davenport. It looked like the kind of house a family with 2.5 kids and a dog would live in. Maybe she had read him wrong and he was more than a playboy bachelor? Hope blossomed.

When she reached for the latch to the car door, Jake corrected her. "Ladies don't open their own doors. Sit."

Another order, albeit encompassing a polite gesture.

She watched him exit and walk around the front of the car to open her door, reaching in to assist her out like a gentleman. The walk up the front path was quiet, yet her sixth sense was getting louder with each step she took, shouting at her not to go inside. It was so strong, she dragged Jake to a stop a few feet before they reached the front door.

"I... think... I need more time. I'd like to go home now and think about the offer some more," she said.

Jake's left hand squeezed her arm just above her elbow, pulling her close to his body. Impatience and anger threaded through his words. "There is no backing out now, Hannah. We've come all this way. We're going inside."

The pinch of his fingers kept tightening until it hurt so badly she cried out, turning her eyes to his to question how far he would take this. She met a brick wall. A full-body shiver thundered through her, giving Jake the chance to pull her along towards the front door.

She was flustered and only partly aware of the elaborate security measures he used to get inside the middle-class home in suburban Palo Alto. Alarm bells continued to go off as she recognized the retinal identification followed by the pin-pad, where Jake punched in a long entry code. It felt like they had been thrown into the plot of a spy movie.

Only after passing through several layers of high-tech security did