Chapter 48
Decker
“I need to speak with Josephine. Alone,” I demand, shooting hard looks at Kendrick and Locke, then at Misty.
Both guys wait for Josephine to nod, effectively dismissing them. Locke pecks her on one cheek as Kendrick leans in on the other side and says something that makes her cheeks flush. Then they’re gone, heading back toward the kitchen.
In that moment, I’ve never been more jealous of any of my brothers.
When Misty doesn’t move, I pin her with a seething glare. “Excuse us,” I repeat.
Misty is staring wide-eyed over my shoulder, watching Kendrick and Locke saunter away. It isn’t until they’re out of sight that she focuses on me and finally snaps back to it.
“Right. Okay.” Smoothing a hand over her fitted black dress, she gracefully links arms with Callie, the production assistant we were just showing around the house. “Let’s head outside to go over the exterior angles. We’ll meet you out there in five?” she asks me.
I inhale through my nose and crush my molars together, but I nod.
I have contractual obligations to uphold.
I watch Misty and Callie head deeper into the house, waiting until they’ve disappeared completely before turning back to my girl.
My agitation doubles as I take her in.
Her hair’s a mess. Her clothing is askew, even wet in some places, if I’m not mistaken. She looks well and thoroughly fucked, which would irritate me on its own. But it’s the attitude that sends me.
Arms crossed over her chest and one foot planted on the wall behind her, she leans back and assesses me with a sneer like she can’t wait to dish out the sassy remark she’s surely come up with.
“You requested a private audience, your highness?” she mocks.
My teeth are clenched so tight my jaw aches as I hover closer. The boys didn’t fuck her well enough if she’s still this brazen afterward. There isn’t enough patience in my body—maybe in the world—to deal with her haughty, bratty attitude right now.
But the clock is ticking. And this isn’t a laughing matter.
“Siren,” I rhapsodize, hoping the juxtaposition to her teasing is enough to catch her attention.
“That woman with Misty is a production assistant. She’s here for a tour so she can get a feel for the mansion—and its inhabitants—before she comes back with her camera crew to start setting up on Sunday. ”
She wilts right there in front of me. Dammit. My words—this situation, my obligations—are responsible for it, and that kills me.
We all know the practical aspects of what’s coming for us next week: the cameras and monitoring, a total lack of privacy. We’re all anxious to get it over with. The SportsZone crew is not only going to disrupt our routine, but they will intrude on what should be private moments in our home.
Cameras and media coverage are a fact of life for Kendrick and me, but a dense fog of guilt wraps around me when I think of exposing Josephine in this way.
I offered to put her and the other guys up somewhere else for the week. A rental house on the lake or a condo close to campus. They unanimously and vehemently refused.
Stepping closer, I catch her under the chin with two fingers and tilt her head back.
“I need you to behave and keep your boys in line for the rest of the afternoon. After the tour, we have a meeting to confirm the final schedule, so I suspect they’ll be here a bit longer.”
Understanding registers in her eyes, and she gives a quick nod—thank god—but then a smirk creeps in, because apparently, she can’t resist the opportunity to rile me up.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she muses, tilting her face and nuzzling against my hand until I’m cupping her jaw.
“Josephine.” It doesn’t hold the bite it did just two minutes ago. At least we’ve reached an understanding. “I’m serious.”
She turns her head quickly and nips at my thumb—brat. “You’re always serious, Cap.”
I’m done fighting her, though. At least for today. It’s time I return to the hell of my own making I’m trapped in, the torture I didn’t see coming because I’ve been too distracted to pay attention to the little details of my schedule as of late.
For one more minute, I allow myself to linger, soaking in the depth and fortitude in her blue-gray eyes and homing in on that perfect, pouty mouth.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she breathes.
Because I want to. Because I need a reason to get through the rest of this day.
“Come out on the boat with me on Saturday night, Siren.”
Her expression morphs from wanton right back to sassy. “You have a game on Saturday night, Cap.”
“Afterward, then,” I demand. I’m running out of time. And patience.
“What about the party?”
A thrill surges through me before I even say the words. Caressing her cheek with my thumb, I remain silent for a moment, teasing her the way she likes to tease me. “I canceled the party.”
Shock washes over her. She pushes off the wall and drops her arms to her sides. “Again? Why would you do that?” Her voice is a whisper. With a long inhale, she scans the hallway, peering from one end to the other to make sure we’re alone and our conversation is still truly private.
Good girl.
Double-checking that we’re in the clear, I step forward, then lower my head until our mouths are close enough that we’re sharing breath.
This. Her. This is what I did it for.
“Because I want to win the damn game, come home, and spend the night out on the lake with my girl.”
I plant a featherlight kiss on the pulse point below her ear.
“Your girl, huh?” But her smile is softer now. And I know she’ll be in my arms soon. “Are you going to let me drive the boat?” she taunts.
My phone rings in my pocket. I don’t even have to pull it out to know it’s Misty.
“Saturday,” I repeat, walking backward down the hall so I can keep my eye on the prize.
Soft moments. Private moments. More moments with her. This is what I’m doing it for.