Chapter 12 Cade
CADE
When Ansel wakes up the next morning, I run us a bath and instruct Dalton to serve us food while we steep in it. I request a nice charcuterie with the finest wine. One from Wylder’s cellar.
Ansel protests that it’s too much, but I ignore him. I won’t have our first date outside of the cabin be anything less than perfect.
And honestly, who doesn’t love a bottle of wine in the morning?
Dalton doesn’t question my request, just does it without complaint. He knows he was wrong to lay his hands on my fragile butterfly, injuring his wings. Ansel has a concussion because of him, and he will pay for it.
The punch will come later when I have a moment of time to land it. Until then, Dalton can grovel a bit. Serves him right.
Once Dr. Ramsey has checked Ansel over and given his approval of his progress, we slide into the warm bath.
Now, my legs are wrapped around Ansel’s, his chin almost entirely under the bubbly water.
Both of us are sleepy—Ansel thanks to his concussion, and me because I had to wake him during the night to check on him.
To be honest, I don’t think I would’ve slept even if the doctor hadn’t insisted on it.
I was so worried about him that sleep was the last thing on my mind.
It’s a good thing that there’s nothing on the agenda today except relaxing. That, and hopefully getting Ansel to open up about who exactly he’s gotten himself into trouble with.
So they can get into trouble with me instead. I’ll be far more fun to play with.
Well, it’ll be fun for me, at least.
I’m sure he has questions for me, too. About The Firm, and what being a part of it involves. But, like me, he seems content to wait until later.
We’re just living in a bubble bath, pretending the outside world doesn’t exist.
I reach over and grab a grape and a slice of cheese, leaning close and pushing it between his lips. He takes it eagerly, and I find my cock perking up at the sight. That mouth, his tongue. Everything about him makes me needy.
But I’ll refrain from engaging. He needs to rest. My dick can wait.
“This is an awesome tub,” he says after he swallows. “You could fit another whole person in here.”
“I had it custom-made. Specifically for threesomes.”
Ansel’s eyes narrow at that, and I quickly amend. “Not that I’m asking you to invite a third into our relationship. Just to be clear, I’m not sharing you. At all. Ever.”
“We aren’t in a relationship.”
I nuzzle his neck. “What else would you call it? A hostageship? Or maybe a hostage-with-benefits situationship? Neither of those really roll off the tongue. Relationship is just easier.”
His lips twitch, and he shakes his head. “God, you’re impossible. I don’t even know what to say.”
“No need to say anything. Just relax while I take care of you.” I feed him some more food, and in between bites, I make sure to appease my own appetite, all while sipping at my wine.
“Bet that’s expensive,” he says around a strawberry and a cracker.
“Sure is. The best wine around. Would you like to try some? You can’t have much with the concussion, but a sip or two will be okay.”
He holds out his sudsy hand and takes the glass I offer him. He takes a couple of tiny sips and sighs. “I’ve never had expensive wine before.”
“You haven’t?”
“No,” he chuckles. “My income bracket barely stretches to ramen, let alone nice wine. Took a long time before I realized wine doesn’t have to come in a box.”
“Huh.” Now my mind is racing, thinking about all the other things I can introduce Ansel to. Money is pretty much the only bonus to this lifestyle, and I fucking love spending it.
Something tells me I’d enjoy spending it on Ansel even more.
“In fact, I don’t remember the last time I even had a bath. Must’ve been when I was a kid in foster care.” He smiles sleepily at me. “It’s so nice.”
I vow here and now to run him daily baths if it keeps him smiling like that.
He leans back, his head resting against the edge of the tub. The new position throws his black eye into sharp relief. The sight of it is horrific, but it makes him no less beautiful.
I hate it though. The fact that he’s hurt because of me and my brothers only makes me angrier. Furious, even.
Hopefully punching Dalton will make me feel better.
“Why the crease in your forehead?” he asks.
I grunt. “Just upset at seeing your black eye.”
He touches it gingerly. “It’ll heal. I’ll be fine. It’s no less than I deserve.”
I pour myself more wine to help ease the frustration lingering inside of me. “Don’t say that again.”
Ansel’s cheeks pinken. “Don’t tell me what to do. Just because I have a concussion doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”
That makes me grin against the rim of my glass. It’s amazing how he can take my temper and tame it with a few words. “There’s my sassy little butterfly.”
He rolls his eyes and then opens his mouth, silently asking to be fed more food. I oblige, ever his humble servant.
We sit in the tub until our bellies are full and I’m slightly buzzed from drinking almost a whole bottle of wine. When we get out, our skin is pink and our fingertips look like raisins, but Ansel looks relaxed and safe, not as stressed as he was in that small cabin.
I debate whether to question him now, but decide to wait. The last thing I want is for Ansel to get upset, especially when he’s this relaxed.
We have time. There’s no rush. Whoever threatened him will still be alive for me to kill tomorrow.
“Let’s get dressed,” I tell him. “And if you feel up to it, I can show you the grounds.”
Ansel nods, wrapping the towel around himself and following me into the bedroom. The sheets have been changed, and I see that a few piles of clothes sit on the edge of the mattress.
Ansel looks up at me questioningly, so I explain. “I asked Harley to bring you some clothes that you’d like. I hope they fit. Harley’s taste is different from yours, but hopefully they’ll do for now.”
He runs his hands over the piles and then peers at one of the tags hanging from a shirt. “What the fuck? This is way too expensive.”
I frown, looking down at the price tag. “Is it?”
Ansel steps back, shaking his head rapidly. “It is. Good god. I can’t wear this. It’s more than my monthly electric bill.”
I purse my lips, trying to decide whether or not to fight this. Ansel’s going to have to get used to being spoiled by me. Buying gifts is my love language. “Okay, if you don’t want to wear them, you can go around naked, then.”
His lips part, and he stares at me for a long time. “Ugh. Fine, but I’m paying you back for this. I won’t accept expensive gifts from you. Or Harley. Or anyone in this family.”
I don’t argue. He’ll come around eventually. He has a concussion right now. He’s just not thinking straight at the moment.
“Fine,” I say as I pull on my own clothes—jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. When I stand next to him, the two of us fully clothed, I let my gaze roam over his body and sigh. “I would have preferred to keep you naked.”
He rolls his eyes and then strides toward the door. “You gonna show me around or what?”
“You feeling up to it?”
“Yes, at the moment I am.”
I reach down and take his hand in mine. “All right. Come on, and tell me if you need a break. I can carry you.”
He grunts at that and then allows me to tug him forward.
I lead him out of the room and down a long hallway, explaining that most of the rooms here are for guests, for the parties that Wylder hosts. He hates them, but as the head of the family, he can’t really escape it.
If he had his way, I think he’d be content to live as a hermit. I bet he’d even grow a beard and have a vegetable garden, but as our childhood dictated, we weren’t allowed to be anything my father didn’t like.
And my father hated beards and vegetables.
Ansel walks next to me silently, taking it all in, so I continue on, my strides slow, going into the backstory of some of the paintings hanging on the walls. Paintings we’ve acquired over time, some from auctions and some in more nefarious ways.
Suddenly, he draws to a stop, his eyes wide. “Wait, holy shit. Is that a Van Gogh?”
My silence speaks volumes.
Ansel gasps. “Oh my god! That’s one of the ones that’s missing. The poppy one. I know I’ve seen that before.”
My lips twitch as I put my hands into my pockets. “Perhaps it was never missing, just never found.”
“That makes no sense.” He bounces on his toes suddenly. “Fuck, please tell me you have the Rembrandt one too.”
I chuckle, spinning him around so he’s facing the painting in question. He squeals, bouncing again. Makes me wonder what noises he’ll make when he’s bouncing on my cock.
I adjust myself in my pants. “How do you know so much about stolen—I mean, missing art?”
Ansel doesn’t notice my predicament, which is good considering he’s supposed to be resting. “Oh, a few years back, I went down a rabbit hole for, like, an entire week. Decided I’d be the one to find them. Never did get anywhere. Really sent me on a spiral.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I thought my hacking skills weren’t that great.”
“I’m sure they are just fine. Our resources are just…unbeatable.”
He snorts. “What else do you have hidden around here? Stolen gems? Missing people? Oh my god, do you have the Ark of the Covenant here?”
“No, unfortunately, that isn’t for sale…or in a place where it can be stolen.” His mouth drops open, and I restrain a smile. “Come on, let me show you the libraries.”
“Plural?” he gasps as I bring him forward.
“Yes. Wylder is a fan of books. Old things, if you ask me. I prefer an audiobook. Especially the spicy ones.”
That makes him groan. “Blasphemy. Books aren’t old.”
“They are, especially some of the ones we have.”
“Don’t tell me you have, like, ancient scrolls? How much money do you have?”
“Probably too much.”