Free Breaching the Billionaire: Alethea's Redemption (Book 6) (Legacy Collection) by Ruth Cardello

swaying slightly, wondering why he looked unhappy when she’d offered him a night of pleasure.
    He walked around her apartment, studying the bare walls and sparse décor. “Why don’t you have better security?” he demanded.
    What is he angry about? “I offered to let you spend the night and you’re worried about what kind of alarm I do or don’t have?”
    He walked over and scowled down at her. “I imagined you’d have fifty bolts on your door and a high-tech security system.”
    She waved at the door and its basic lock and bolt. “I protect what’s important. My computer is practically set to self-destruct if tampered with.”
    “You don’t care if anything happens to you, do you?”
    Those blue eyes looked right through her bravado and into her soul. Huskily, she admitted, “I haven’t since that day.”
    His face tightened with anger. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
    The idea had held appeal earlier, but now the room spun and Alethea’s mouth suddenly dried. “I don’t think it’s a good idea anymore . . .”
    A faint smile curled one side of his luscious, delicious lips. “I’d love to join you, but not like this.”
    “Excuse me,” she said in a rush, stumbled for the bathroom, dropped to her knees, and threw up into the toilet. She felt his hands in her hair, holding it back from her face as she retched again. Yep, I know how to turn a man on. When she sat back on her heels, shaking and dizzy, he handed her a cool, wet towel for her face. “Just go, Marc.”
    He squatted down next to her, pushing some of her hair back behind her ears and said, “You need water, aspirin, and to sleep this off. Are you going to throw up again?”
    Vomit again? No. Die of embarrassment—well, that was still a definite possibility.
    “No.” She stood up quickly. Her legs were like jelly beneath her now and the room tilted. “Probably not,” she said with less certainty.
    Marc swung her up in his arms. She closed her eyes and, despite her churning stomach, let herself enjoy the moment. There it was—that feeling of being cared for again. Even if it wasn’t real, even if he would have done the same for anyone in her condition—it still felt unbearably good. He carried her to her bedroom and set her gently on the edge of her bed, then hunted through her bureau and returned with the ridiculous flowered cotton nightgown with the high neckline that her mother had sent as a present and which she hadn’t had the heart to throw away. That was all their relationship was now: holiday and birthday gifts that revealed how little they knew each other. I’ve worn gym shorts and T-shirts my whole adult life , but since I never see her, I guess she wouldn’t know that.
    “Stand up, turn around, and strip,” Marc said roughly.
    She stood, narrowed her eyes, and wagged a finger at him. “Shouldn’t you turn around?”
    He shook his head and said, “I have to make sure you don’t fall on your face.”
    Just how drunk does he think I am? In an act of defiance, she faced him and reached for the zipper of her dress. I’m not ashamed of how I look. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper and it snagged a few inches down.
    He watched her with a combination of desire and amusement. “Let me help you.”
    She smacked his hand away. “I can do it myself.” She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, forgetting how snug the material was. She gave it an angry yank upward and found her arms wedged tightly over her head while the cool air teased her exposed breasts and midriff.
    With a growl he said, “Why are you so stubborn? There is no shame in needing help now and then.”
    She tried to pull away from him and almost fell forward, still trapped in the dress that was half up over her head. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
    With one strong move, he hauled her back against him, held her struggling body with an arm around her waist, and pulled the dress over her head and off. In a flash, he replaced