CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE MOLLY
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MOLLY
If Ashton Walden actually thought I was going to go and take a nap, he was—well, I was being positive here. The exception was my father. I would always allow myself to be negative with him, but back to what I was currently doing.
He was doing Mafia stuff. I was snooping.
Ashton or one of his guys must’ve scooped up my purse after the explosion because I found it next to my bed. I’d been elated, grabbing for my phone, only to find no reception.
So carrying my purse, my phone in hand, I was tiptoeing around the place.
At one point, I was in the east wing. Yes.
They literally had a north tower, south tower, west, east, and it looked like there was a whole middle section where the kitchen was set at.
The place looked more like a spaceship than a house.
Ashton did say it was a compound, so kudos to whoever paid for all of this.
It was a bit overkill in my opinion, but then again, I’m not the head of a Mafia empire.
And anyways, I was in the east wing when I heard voices, and looking out, I saw Avery leaving the main building and heading into the distance.
There was a road that led in the same direction, so I was guessing Ashton was back there, being Ashton.
First thing, or second, since the first was to call Pialto or Sophie and check in.
I couldn’t do that, so the second item got bumped up, and that was being the normal nosy person anyone would be in a place like this: get the lay of the land.
I was doing that, and also oohing and aahing at some seriously and ridiculously amazing pieces of furniture, art, sculptures, even the mugs in one of the guest kitchenette areas.
They were ceramic and adorable. They probably cost a fortune, but now I was in the last of the wings.
Um ... gah. I didn’t know what to do. If I kept nosing around, I’d get myself in trouble. It was my switch. It was a problem. I needed a distraction. I could call Pialto or Sophie from the phone on the desk.
I tried Pialto first.
“This is who you’re trying to get ahold of. Leave a message and I’ll text you back—beep!”
Crap. I wasn’t sure if I should leave a message or not. That’d be one benefit, knowing what situation I was currently in. I’d be more committed to an escape plan, if that’s what was called for.
I sighed and tried Sophie instead.
“Hello?”
“Soph!”
“Wha— Mollyomgwhereareyou?Whathappenedtoyourapartment?andyourcousinwon’ttellusanything! ”
Oh, whoa. I had to unpack that a bit.
Oh my god! She knew about the apartment! “You were at my apartment?”
“Yes! Where are you?!”
“I’m okay!” Why was I yelling? “I’m okay. I’m safe, I think.”
“What do you mean, you think? Where are you?”
“How do you know about my apartment? Did the police go to Easter Lanes, looking for me?” I mean, of course they would. That would be common sense.
“Glen is working, again, and not to be negative about your cousin, but he’s not that great at watching over the place. He told Pialto and I we could take the week off, but he wouldn’t tell us why, so we went to your place, and what do you mean the police?”
“The police? Because of my door.”
“Your door? Well, it is gone, but all your stuff is gone ! Where are you?”
I frowned and pulled back to look at the phone. I was talking to the right person, wasn’t I? “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about? Your apartment—”
“—there was a bomb on the door—”
“—everything was gone! It was clean— there was a bomb on your door?! ”
I was so confused. “Wait. All my stuff is gone?” My throat gagged. I must’ve heard that wrong.
“Yes! That’s why I’ve been calling and calling. Pialto was fed up, and he went to find your cop friend. Jess. He’s terrified of her, but he said he needed answers. Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Who’s there with you? And where’s your stuff?”
My head was ringing, again. I was having a bad acid trip of déjà vu. “I’m with—” Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t know if I could tell her or not. Wait. She knew everything else. “I’m with Ashton Walden.”
“Oh, Madre de Dios. What are you doing with him? And again ? Though, he is so gorgeous.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “I know, and he shielded me from the bomb.”
“He did?”
“He did.”
We were sighing together.
“I can’t believe there was a bomb.”
“Same,” I quipped.
“You don’t know where you are?”
“I can’t say. I don’t think he want—” The line went dead. I looked at the phone again, checked the cord, made sure it was plugged into the wall, and it was. But the line was just gone.
A hand reached around me, taking the phone from me, and I turned, already gulping because the whole room got chilled. Ashton was glaring at me, his eyes seething and his jaw clenched to where I thought he might’ve been close to grinding his teeth.
I winced, thinking about that.
“Are you goddamn kidding me?”
Yep. He was furious.
“What?”
“What?” His eyes widened a fraction, and he stepped to me, his head coming down. “Are you joking with ‘what’?”
“Uh ...”
He threw the phone against the floor, breaking it into pieces.
I was gulping again. “You need to tell me what I did wrong if I’m going to answer your question.”
“You called your friend?” Another step my way. His eyes were glittering from his rage. “You told her you were with me? Do you want to die? Did you actually comprehend anything that happened at your apartment?”
I raised a finger, but still using the timid approach, I kept my voice light. “About the apartment. Soph said all my stuff was gone—”
“Fuck the apartment! There was a bomb that could’ve killed you. Why are you not comprehending that?”
“I—I wasn’t sure.”
“About what?” Still snarling from him.
“About the whole protection we have going on here?” I made two circling motions with my hands.
“What the fuck did you think we were doing here?”
“Uh. I wasn’t sure. Think of all the craziness that’s happened to me lately. I’m a little flustered. That’s all. I called my friends. I wasn’t going to tell them where I am. I don’t even know where I am.”
His eyes were back to slits, but he didn’t comment.
“Why are you so upset? I don’t get this.
” Okay. I was going on the offense. That felt good.
A better plan here. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d just told me what we were doing here.
” I poked at his chest, and yeah, that felt good.
It felt great. I did it again. “It’s called communication. ” Another poke.
I was trying for some intimidation here, so I approached as I poked, but he wasn’t moving.
I tried it again. “I woke up from passing out and you were all like, ‘Here’s my chef. Want an omelet?’ There was nothing about that we’re here for your protection or—”
“You freaked the fuck out about almost being killed, and then bam, you’re talking about appreciating the simple things in life.”
“I mean, yeah. There’s no point in letting the negative weigh you down. It’s evolution. Move on.”
Ashton’s neck and shoulders were getting tighter and tighter, and he started eyeing my neck like he might be considering wrapping his hands around it. Maybe I shouldn’t have been poking him.
I edged back a step, and immediately knew that hadn’t been the right move.
A whole different air came through the room, circling us, and I tensed.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
I was getting the whole vibe that I was in the room with a predator, a very beautiful and sleek-looking predator, but one that was a killer nonetheless.
What had I been doing? Poking him. Talking back to him. Forgetting he was dangerous, because I wasn’t right now. Ashton was very much glaring at me as if he could snap my neck right now and then just step over my dead body on his way to the bathroom.
A cold shiver went to my toes.
“Ashton.”
He lowered his head, his eyes still on me, and his voice came out low and soft.
“Do you have any idea what you just did? That I brought you somewhere no one knew about for your safety? That you didn’t think the person who tried to kill you might also be watching your ‘besties’ on the off chance you might contact one of them?
That you might tell them where you were?
If their phones were tapped, if you were on long enough for a location trace? ”
Right. Crap. I did all of that. I was aware that I had a problem. I hadn’t thought about that stuff. “I’m new to this Mafia stuff. I’m sorry, but next time give me some lessons.”
His nostrils flared. “Lessons?”
His tone was sending a whole new set of chills down my spine.
I wrung my hands together. “I said what I said. I’m sor—”
“Do not .” He leaned in, his head moving so he was a breath away, and he placed a hand behind me against the wall.
“It’s not my life that’s going to be snuffed out if they find you.
It’s yours.” He looked down, seeing my cell in one hand and my purse in the other.
“You said you were going to take a nap. Were you planning to sneak out instead?”
That sounded really foolish when he said it.
“I was snoo—”
His hand moved in a flash to the side of my throat.
I gasped, straightening up, but he didn’t tighten it.
His hand spread out, smoothing over my skin until he had a firm grip on me.
It was just there, resting against my skin.
One of his fingers could feel my pulse racing, which was pounding like a stampede right now, but his thumb began stroking up and down, just slightly.
A soft graze. I wondered if he knew he was doing that.
“Ashton,” I murmured.
He looked down at my throat and moved in closer so his chest was almost touching mine. “Do you know how many times I’ve considered being done with you over the years? Knowing what you stood for, what your mother stood for. Do you know how much that haunted me growing up?”
I frowned. “What?”
He moved all the way now, his hips touching mine, and I whimpered, flattening against the wall. His back was arched over me as his head was bent, his forehead almost resting against mine. His thumb kept caressing, growing bolder and firmer with each stroke.
My pulse was almost skyrocketing out of my chest. I had no idea what was happening here, but a part of me liked this, and that part of me was even more confused by it.
“I hated my mother. Loathed her, and I despised that my grandfather accepted your father’s offer.
It’s not normal for a son to want everyone to know their mother is a monster, but I did.
I fucking yearned for that to happen, and it didn’t.
She was a goddamn saint for the rest of her life, and you—so innocent.
I watched you, too, hating you. Hating you because you had the mother I wished I had and it was all so unbelievably fucked up and here I am, holding your neck in the palm of my hand, so exasperated with you because you put yourself in danger when I—” He cut himself off, a darkness emanating from his gaze.
I was riveted, holding my breath, needing to know what else he’d been about to say. I had to know. “When you what? What were you going to say?”
Why did he hate his mother so much?
“Why aren’t you angry about your mother? I told you the truth, and you’ve not said a thing about it. You should be enraged, and nothing . You don’t feel anything about what I told you?” His thumb went back to moving over my throat.
Warmth was flooding me. A need for him was starting to grow deep inside of me.
“I grew up not wanting to know my mom, and what you said kinda ... I’ve just not had time to digest. One crisis at a time right now.”
He frowned at me, his eyebrows dipping down. “What do you need to process? She was your mother.”
“I grew up mostly hating my dad except on the occasions that I realized I might actually love him despite him being the worst ever. The whole mom factor seemed so far away. I was surviving. That’s all I focused on back then. Surviving. Nothing else mattered.”
My heart began beating faster.
The need. The ache. It only grew.
His hand. It was right there. He was stroking me, gazing down at me, but he wasn’t fully seeing me. He was seeing—I reached out, placing my hands on his chest, and he froze at the touch, looking down at them. “Ashton.”
His eyes refocused, seeing me again.
Pain flooded there. It was raw and real and visceral, and I gasped. A surge of need to take it away flooded me.
Anything. I had to help.
“Ashton. Your mother—”
“Hated me,” he clipped out.
“What?” I froze. “What did you say?” I reached up, catching him with both of my hands, but he blinked, and it was gone.
That small window, so fleeting. It closed up, though he remained where he was.
He stood, holding me, touching me, as I was framing his face—he could’ve been on the other side of the room.
I slid a hand down to his chest, tamping down on the throb that filled the inside of my entire chest cavity for him.
“Not that I’m really complaining, but the whole hand on my neck, and your thumb doing these magical things to me, and you know, feeling your hips down here and being backed against a wall .
.. I mean, a girl can have so many fantasies before one is needing to come true.
So could you, um, could you either do something or step back? ”
“ Do something?” His eyes went back to mine, holding me in place.
My throat swelled up. “Right. Or step back.” But I pressed against him, ignoring the emotional distance, because he was locked back in. He was seeing me, not her. He was feeling me, not her.
“Step back?” He frowned, his thumb moving over my mouth again. His eyebrows pinched together, and he began to bend down, folding over me even more.
Oh man. I was feeling him between my legs, and I said, a faint plea, though I wasn’t feeling it in a faint way, “Please.”
His eyes flared, and I tensed because I had no idea what he was going to do, but then a whole new intensity exploded from him, and he was reaching for me. “Ashton!”
A female’s voice began shrieking from inside the house.
He went rigid over me.
A door crashed open behind us, and that same voice shrieked again: “Ashton!”
I—fuck it.
I reached up and stood up, and I fused my mouth to his .