His Passion (By His Command #4) Read Online Free Page A

really need to be murdered? Was
death a necessity in that situation?
    Perhaps.
    Jonathan turned his head and looked at me.
He looked as powerful as ever, his head slightly tilted back, his
eyes staring straight at me. He made me feel like nothing else in
the world existed or mattered.
    “Tell my driver to stop,” he said.
    “What…”
    “Tell the driver to stop the fucking
car.”
    His voice was smooth and yet cold. His hand
was still between my legs. I shivered.
    I looked at the driver and said, “Excuse me,
we need to stop. Here.”
    The driver ignored me. His hands were tight
on the steering wheel.
    “He didn’t stop,” Jonathan said.
    “Excuse me, sir?” I called out.
    “That won’t work.”
    I looked at Jonathan then back to the
driver. When I glanced out the windshield I realized two things.
First, there were no lights around us. None at all. Second, the
headlights on the car weren’t turned on. The driver drove into
pitch black. Into nothing… but everything could be waiting.
    “Stop the car,” I said.
    “Come on, Isabella Grace,” Jonathan said.
“Where’s your voice?”
    Seeing nothing but now we were moving
started to scare me. I reached out and touched the man’s
shoulder.
    “Hey! Stop the car.”
    It was the meanest voice I could manage.
    The man looked into the rearview mirror and
half smiled.
    Jonathan leaned towards me and using his
other hand, he took my right hand and started to make a fist. His
lips were at my ear, teasing me, making me melt.
    “Isabella, I want you to hit him. In the
face. As hard as you can.”
    I swallowed and tried to look at Jonathan
but he was too close for me to do that. I knew by his tone – and
the words themselves – he was serious.
    “Hit him,” Jonathan said with a growl. “Hit
him in his fucking face for not listening to you, to me, to
us.”
    “Yes, Mr. Black,” I said.
    His hand left my fist and I blinked a few
times. I couldn’t remember if I had ever actually hit someone
before. I know I had catfights in school, just as any girl would
have, but this was me being commanded to punch someone driving. He
was driving us away from a crime scene that we caused.
    And I had to punch him.
    The driver continued to ignore me and
Jonathan backed away a little, but remained close enough so I could
sense and smell him.
    He really wanted me to do this.
    “You have to stop,” I said, hoping to give a
warning. “If not, I’m going to hit you.”
    The driver didn’t respond or flinch.
    Fine. I had to do this, right now.
    My hand started to shake but I began to
think about the circumstances around us. Where would we be right
now if it wasn’t for Oliver Rush? The touching. The murder. The way
my life changed in a second. With the stare of Jonathan Black’s
eyes. With the stab of his hand.
    I swung.
    My fist connected with the side of the
driver’s cheek. My hand instantly exploded into pain. I cried out
but kept my eyes on the driver, watching as his head snapped to the
side but then right back in place.
    The car came to a screeching halt and he
turned to look at me with the rage of a true killer in his eyes. He
looked so angry and so mean, I felt – even for a second – that
Jonathan couldn’t protect me.
    “Are we here?” Jonathan asked in his calm
voice.
    “Yes,” the driver said.
    His cheek was red and his eyes didn’t leave
me. He flicked the switch for the headlights and when they
illuminated I saw we were just feet away from an airplane.
    I gasped and looked at Jonathan.
    “What…”
    “Here, let me see,” Jonathan said. He
reached for my hand. He held it in his hand, his thumb rubbing
along my now red knuckles. He looked into my eyes. “You did so
great. So beautiful. Perfect.”
    “You need me to punch someone else?” I asked
with a flirty smile.
    “Probably,” he replied.
    Jonathan pulled my hand to his lips and
kissed it.
    He then opened the door to the car and
ushered me out. We walked towards the private jet and the feeling
of