Read The Submission of Alistair Ingram for Free Online Page B

me.”
    “Trust
is new for you. Putting yourself in someone else’s hands. Isn’t it?” He brushed
her cheek with the back of his fingers.
    Bethany
grasped his wrist. “Don’t mistake attraction for trust. I don’t know you. I
don’t trust you. You shouldn’t trust me.”
    Alistair
let go of her hair and held both hands up in front of him. “Fine.” He grabbed
her bag and hoisted it off the bed. “Grab your stuff. Let’s go.”
    Bethany
watched him stride out of her bedroom, heard her duffel bag clank against the
wall as he darted down the stairs. She sighed. She hadn’t meant to piss him
off. Of course she didn’t trust him. They just met! What did he expect?
    As
for Alistair trusting her… He’d be an idiot to trust her. She’d never let him
make that mistake.
    Her
condo door opened, and she heard him take her duffel bag outside and drop it on
the porch. “Coming?” he called. “Shit! Bethany, the paparazzi are here! Get
your ass moving!”
    A
jolt of panic surged through her. “They’re here ?” She ran into her
bathroom, gathered her toothbrush, razor and everything else she could grab, shoved
them in her suitcase and zipped it up.
    Damn,
damn, damn. If they knew where she lived, she’d never get away. Alistair
Fucking Ingram just had to tie his fate to hers last night, didn’t he? He
ruined her life.
    Bethany
jogged down the stairs, gave her apartment a glance wishing she had more time
to prepare. Everything in her refrigerator would be rotten. There were a few
dirty dishes in her sink. The mail would pile up in the mailbox.
    Why
did this have to happen? She’d been doing so well, for so long, then along
comes Mr. Movie Star and screws everything up. Now what was she going to do?
    Her
ex knew where she worked now, and if pictures of her and Alistair leaving her
condo were printed or put online, he’d find out where she lived, too.
    Fuck.
    “Come
on!” Alistair yelled, storming back inside and grabbing her suitcase. “How much
of a show do you want to give them? Want to tie me up on your porch before we
go? Give them a few good shots?”
    Bethany
shrunk under his rage-filled gaze. His tan face turned a dark, reddish-bronze
with anger, eyes narrow and drawn. For an instant, she pictured him standing
over her with a cane as she begged him to stop.
    His
eyes went wide, and he stepped back from her. “Whoa,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
    She
realized she was pressed against the wall in her foyer, shaking and cowering.
The nightmare would never leave her. The imaginings of a crazy, broken woman.
He’d probably drive her to an institution instead of his house.
    “Nothing,”
she said, trying to sound convincing, but her voice wavered.
    Alistair
closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I’m in over my head here. Every time
I turn around, I’m doing something that scares you. Why is that?”
    “Long
story,” she said, wheeling her suitcase around him. “I thought we had to go.”
    He
let out a sharp exhale and grabbed her doorknob, checking to make sure it was
locked. “Do you have an alarm?”
    “No.
Just pull it shut, and we’re good to go.” Bethany stepped out onto the porch to
a blur of flashing cameras and jeers from photographers.
    “How
long have you been with Alistair?” one of them shouted. “Did you plan to steal
him away from Heather Winston?” another chimed in.
    Bethany
was frozen to her porch. Her feet wouldn’t budge, and she couldn’t tear her
eyes away.
    “Ignore
them and move,” Alistair said, taking her by the elbow and grabbing the handle
of her suitcase. “Don’t look at them.”
    “I
can’t look away,” she whispered.
    “I
know. I know,” he said, guiding her to the back driver’s side door in the
S.U.V., “It’s like a train wreck. You can’t help but stop and stare at first.”
    She
slid in the backseat, and he closed her in. “Okay?” the driver asked, looking
at her in the rearview mirror.
    She
nodded and pressed her palms together in