Chapter 1 #2
“So, nothing new.” Ace finally looks at me. “Your father called. He said that you stormed out.”
“I expressed my displeasure.”
“You threw a tantrum.”
“I’m twenty-three, Ace. I don’t throw tantrums; I make a dramatic exit.”
A quiet presence appears in the hallway, and my heart does the stupid flutter it always does when Vander is nearby.
He leans against the wall with his arms crossed, while his sheer size fills the space.
He is taller than both Ace and Rhodes, with a broad, muscular frame that could snap someone in half without breaking a sweat.
His blonde hair is shaved short, but it’s his eyes that get me every time.
They are intense, a piercing blue that sees right through me whenever he looks in my direction.
“Hey, Vander. Did you know about this ambush?”
He doesn’t answer—he never does—but his jaw tightens slightly. In Vander speak that means: Yes, and I don’t like that you’re upset about it.
“That’s what I thought.” I head toward my bedroom. “Well, you can all have a nice meeting about me while I get ready to go out.”
“Out? Where?” Ace asks.
“Riley’s picking me up.”
“There is no way you are going to the sex club.”
I smirk at Ace. Riley’s fiancés own a sex club, one they would never let her step foot in without them.
“We’re going to Blackcard.”
“The club?” Rhodes asks.
“No, the bingo hall . . . of course, the club.” I pause in the doorway. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“You know how I feel about nightclubs,” Ace says. He hates it when I spring an outing on him, though I was nice and chose Blackcard because he knows the owner.
“Which is why I didn’t ask for permission.” I smile sweetly.
I disappear into my room before Ace can argue and pull out my phone to text Riley.
Me
Still on for tonight?
Riley
Is that even a question? I already have the perfect dress picked out. You’re wearing the black one, right?
Me
The one with the straps?
Riley
Yes. The one that makes grown men go crazy over you.
Me
They hired another bodyguard.
Riley
Oooh. Is he hot?
Me
Irrelevant.
Riley
That’s a yes. Pics or it didn’t happen.
Me
Absolutely not. You have three smoking-hot men.
Riley
You’re no fun. See you at 10.
I pull the black dress out of my closet. It’s the one with thin straps and is dangerously short—I bought it specifically because Ace hated it. If I’m going to be followed everywhere I go, I might as well look good doing it.
The shower helps ease some of my frustration, and by the time I’m done I have almost convinced myself to give Rhodes a break, almost.
I do my makeup—smoky eyes, dark lips, the whole shebang. If Rhodes can survive the night, maybe I can learn to at least appreciate the view like I do with Ace and Vander.
The dress slides on like a second skin, and I turn to check myself in the mirror.
Riley was right; this dress is my secret weapon.
I grab my heels from my closet. They’re strappy black stilettos that added four inches and approximately ten million degrees of difficulty to walking, and I am sitting on the edge of my bed attempting to put them on when there’s a knock on my door.
“What?” I call out.
Rhodes pokes his head in, and his eyes widen slightly before he says, “One of Riley’s men just texted the group chat to say that she’s ten minutes out.”
“There’s a group chat?”
“Ace created it. Named it Maddie and Riley Watch.”
“Of course he did.” I hold up one shoe. “I’ll be ready in five.”
“Need help?”
I raise an eyebrow. “With my shoes?”
“They look complicated.”
They are, actually, as the straps wind up and around my ankle in a way that requires patience I currently don’t have.
“I’ve got it.”
Rhodes leans against the doorframe, watching me struggle with the tiny buckle. After thirty seconds of me fumbling, he pushes off the frame. “Here.” He kneels in front of me without asking, taking the shoe from my hands.
“I said I’ve got it.”
“And I’m saying let me help.” He looks up at me, and my mind goes straight to the gutter. “It’s my job to assist you.”
“I don’t think strapping on my heels is in your job description.”
“Sure it is. It falls under whatever it takes to keep the client happy and safe.” His fingers brush my ankle as he positions the shoe, and I stop breathing. “Besides, I have five sisters. I’m an expert in complicated footwear.”
He works the straps easily. When his fingers wrap around my ankle to hold it steady, I feel his touch everywhere.
This is bad. This is very, very bad.
He fastens the tiny buckle and runs his fingers along the strap to make sure it is secure. “Too tight?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to talk.
He picks up the second shoe, and I let him. My brain has apparently exited the conversation, and my pussy is taking over. His hand on my other ankle is just as gentle, and when he looks up at me through his lashes to ask if it’s comfortable, I have forgotten every reason I wanted him gone.
“Good?” he asks.
“Yep,” I manage to squeak out.
He runs his thumb along the inside of my ankle, and something lingers between us. It definitely violates professional boundaries.
A throat clears from the doorway, and Rhodes jerks back like he has been electrocuted as I look up to find Ace standing there.
“Riley’s here,” he says.
“Great.” I stand and test the heels. They are perfect, damn him. “Let’s go.”
Rhodes stands, too, and I don’t miss the slight flush on his cheeks or the way Ace’s eyes track between us.
Yeah. This is definitely not going to end well. Yet as I grab my clutch and head for the door, I can’t quite bring myself to care.