Marco's chair screeched against the floor as he stood abruptly. The woman who had been perched on his lap was shoved away, hitting the ground with a loud thud. A sharp gasp of pain escaped her, her eyes flying wide not just with shock, but with a gut-wrenching terror as she stared up at him. My blood ran cold.
What did I just do?
The thought was a silent scream in my head. I had struck one of their men. Not just any man, but one who sat at their inner table, one who I was sure held importance. I held my breath, my thoughts racing with panic.
Why? Why did I do it? It was Isabella. She deserved it. She deserved everything they gave her after what she and her father did to me. So what compelled me? What made me—Christ, I could barely defend myself, so why now? Why for her? My hands, resting in my lap, began to tremble.
I stared as Marco loomed over me, a mountain of fury. I could feel the blood draining from my face. Shit. He was livid.
His blood trailed down his forehead, staining his white collar. His face reddened.
"You little fucking bit—"
Kaden's voice cut through before he could finish.
Maybe if he hadn't been a prick, I wouldn't have to act like one.
"The next words that leave your mouth, Marco," Kaden said, each syllable dipped in ice, "will be your last. Choose them with that in mind."
The entire table stilled, watching. I could feel an intense gaze burning into the side of my face. My eyes snapped toward it.
Ace.
He wasn't watching the confrontation between Kaden and Marco. His focus was entirely on me. His eyes were narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. He looked like he was restraining himself from reaching across the table and grabbing me.
Probably thinking about a thousand ways to punish me after the stunt I pulled.
Suddenly, Kaden felt like the safest person in the room. I shrank back into him, breaking my gaze from Ace's. The memory of his hand around my throat flashed through my mind.
Next time I won't be so nice.
His voice echoed in my skull like a screaming reminder that I was in trouble.
Marco's shoulders squared, his jaw clenched so tightly I could almost hear the grind of his teeth from across the table. He was holding himself back from punishing me for my disrespect, but he couldn't disobey his Don.
To disobey was a death sentence, and everyone in the room knew it.
With a growl of frustration, he spun on his heel and stormed out.
A shaky breath I didn't realize I'd been holding escaped my lips. Everyone went back to their conversations as if moments ago Marco wasn't about to rip me apart and Kaden wasn't about to—I didn't even want to think about what he was about to do. I just knew.
It would have been a bloodbath.
Kaden released his grip on my hair, the sudden absence of pressure a relief. He leaned in, his lips a breath away from my ear, his voice a low, cutting whisper that only I could hear. "Go to bed."
I flinched, twisting to look up at him, my throat tightening painfully. His sudden anger made my heart clench. I wanted to—I don't know what—but I wanted to fix it. I didn't mean it. I wanted—Gosh, I don't know what I wanted to do.
The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"I'm—I'm sorry, I just—"
His brown eyes darkened, making my words trail to a stop. I swallowed hard, the color draining from my face once more.
Shit. I messed up again.
"One more word," he murmured, his tone so soft one might think he was comforting me, "and you won't like what I do to you."
The threat slid down my back like ice. Saying nothing further, I scrambled off his lap.
Fine. Let him be angry. Him and his grumpy brother can go straight to…
I couldn't even curse him in my head. A scoff escaped me. Couldn't take the chance when it came to them. Who knew? They probably heard thoughts before they skinned you alive. I shot a narrow-eyed glare at his turned back.
I don't care.
So why did the absence of his hands on my waist feel like someone had sunk a knife into my chest—which was crazy, because I hadn't gotten a knife sunk in my chest now and then, so why would I feel like that for him, of all people? I shook my head.
I was fucking losing my mind.
My gaze drifted across the table and landed on Ace. He paid me no visible attention, his intense green eyes locked on his brother. The scar that carved down the side of his face seemed to pull his features into a more vicious scowl than usual. I wonder what he saw that had him scowling at his brother like that. Why was I surprised? In the little time I'd known Ace, he always carried that grim expression.
As if sensing my stare, his head turned slowly in my direction.
Shit.
Those green eyes pinned me in place. In the blink of an eye, a neutral expression settled on his face, as if he'd caught his own mask slipping.
"Go to the fucking room," his voice was low and final. He didn't need to yell. I mean, I don't think he needed to. Him just looking at you got you doing whatever he wanted.
Before I could take a step away from the table, a tattooed hand shot out, encircling my wrist. I knew that hand from anywhere. My gaze snapped to Kaden; he wasn't even looking at me, his focus still on the table.
"Watch your step," he muttered, his voice rough, and then released me. The brief contact sent a flutter through my stomach.
I picked my way carefully around the shards of glass on the floor, my heart pounding against my ribs. I reached Isabella, still crouched on the ground, breathing in ragged hitches as she cradled her bleeding hands to her chest. A painful tightness settled in my chest.
Her gaze traveled slowly from my heels up to my face, and when our eyes met, her skin stretched into a snarl promising pain. I quickly averted my eyes, moving hesitantly toward the stairway, my feet feeling heavy with every step.
As I climbed, the murmurs across the room faded until I caught whispers.
"Did you see that?" a woman whispered. I froze, my foot lifted on the bottom stair.
"I saw, crazy bitch," another hissed. I moved, trying to shake off their voices, but with every step they got obnoxiously loud; at this point they might as well drill my head open.
"If I were Marco, I'd have taught her a lesson," a man snapped. As I reached the top stair, I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath, focusing on the stairs, trying to block them out. Gosh, did no one mind their own business around here?
"Keep it down! If the Don hears, you're gonna be the dog's next meal," another whisper-yelled.
I walked quickly down the hallway, my thoughts spiraling. I was so done with this stupid situation.
Ahead, three maids carrying trays of food froze as they saw me, then split immediately, pressing themselves against the wall, making a wide space for me to pass. I stared in confusion.
The heck?
They stared at me wide-eyed, freezing in place like deer caught in headlights. The sight made my heart sink. I wasn't like them. I wasn't Isabella. I wasn't Francisco; definitely not those pricks downstairs. Why were they treating me like…
Them.
I took a half-step toward them to tell them to chill out, reaching a hand out. They scattered away from me, bowing their heads as they hurried past.
"Sorry, Miss," one murmured, her gaze lowered.
It happened so fast I was left with my hand hanging in the empty air. "Whatever," I murmured to myself, shaking my head as I continued toward the room.
It was a small miracle I remembered the way, given the panic I'd been in when Kaden carried me out. I reached the large, black door. Two guards stepped aside without a word to let me pass. Strange—there had been no guards before.
I pushed the door open. The room was as I'd left it. The sight of the fireplace and large window reminded me of what I had attempted to do hours ago. Rose petals were still scattered across the bed; the candles still flickered. The guard cleared his throat, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Shall I close the door, Miss?"
The way he spoke to me was so different, so much respect—a kind I had never known, never thought I would get. In all my twenty-one years of living, everyone had regarded me as less than dirt beneath their feet and treated me as such. Until today. I swallowed hard, nodding.
The door clicked shut. I took in a heavy breath. This was all too much.
I need sleep, need to act like this never happened, like it was all a bad dream and I would wake up any minute now.
Back to my simple life.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my breath finally slowing down. I reached down, removed my heels, and let out a long, shuddering sigh.
God, those hurt.
Bringing my feet onto the soft mattress, I kneaded them, my eyes fluttering shut at the relief. The duvet was soft beneath me. I fell back onto the bed, my hair fanning out around me, and stared blankly at the golden chandelier above.
The door clicked open.
I shot upright, my heart leaping into my throat. Standing in the doorway, his form filling the frame, was Malcolm.
He stood perfectly still, his expression blank. His black hair was tied back in a man bun, and his grey suit strained over his broad shoulders. He was so tall he had to dip his head slightly to enter the doorway—that's how freaking tall this guy was. I hadn't seen him since the wedding, and just like before, his presence seemed to make chills run down my spine.
He tilted his head to the side, rubbing his temples with two fingers as if physically pushing back a headache he already associated with me.
Well, ouch.
"You," he stated, his voice so flat he sounded robotic, like there was nothing there.
Like nothing at all.
Adrenaline shot through my system. I tried to scramble off the bed.
"Don't move."
The command was quiet, but it had the force of a physical blow. I froze mid-motion, my body obeying before my mind could process it. I was freaking acting like a no-brained zombie.
A flicker of understanding crossed his hard features. "Fucking hilarious," he muttered, the words holding no humor. His cold, grey eyes swept over the room, taking everything in.
I sat there frozen, waiting for him to do something, anything, probably manhandle me since that's all they seemed to do. He walked to the window, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He gripped the edge of the small table. I bounced my knee.
Oh, yeah. I put that there.
He shoved it back into its proper place with a harsh screech of wood on the floor. I chewed on my bottom lip.
So I guess this was his room. Wait a minute.
Is this where I sleep now?
My stomach dropped.
With him?
I tracked his movements as he retrieved a stack of papers from a drawer and sat in a high-backed chair. The faint scent of gun oil and cedar filled the space between us. He removed his suit jacket, then rolled up his sleeves, revealing dark tattoos that covered his arms and knuckles. His attention fell to his work.
It was like I wasn't there. Like I wasn't disrupting his life the way he'd disrupted mine. It left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I might as well just be a piece of furniture.
He turned his head, and his gaze landed on me. My eyes immediately dropped to my lap, my breath catching. His earlier warning echoed in my mind—he didn't like being stared at. So I wouldn't.
Anyway, I didn't want to.
"Go to sleep." The command was a soft whisper, yet it carried the sharp edge of a threat, like he held a trigger to my head.
I did as I was told, sliding under the heavy blanket, turning my back to him.
I peeked in his direction.
I guess that's tomorrow's problem.
My eyes grew heavy as sleep took me.
*****
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