43. Camilla
Iyawn and stretch out across the comfortable leather couch in the corner of Crew’s office.
We’ve been in complete silence since Bishop marched me in here an hour ago, and I wouldn’t describe it as anything other than tense.
I’m still trying to understand why I’m still here. Despite Bishop and Kovu’s beliefs, I’m no longer injured. A couple of partially healed broken ribs and a broken wrist are hardly going to stop me from taking my role as the head of the De Marco family, and every day that passes makes me think they’re readying me to be returned to Charles.
I stare down at the copy of Wuthering Heights that I swiped off the shelf beside me, but not even old-world England can distract me from the elephant in the room. Or rather, the six-foot-three asshole in a suit behind the desk. His presence is imposing even from here, and every now and then I feel his eyes burning into me, assessing me, waiting for me to fuck up so he has a reason to hand me over.
I have yet to make sense of him kissing me, though. It didn’t make sense the other day in the kitchen, and it certainly didn’t make sense when I was in the middle of yelling at him for being an insensitive dick.
Movement on the other side of the room catches my attention, but I don’t look up from my book. When I first came in, I spent some time looking around, admiring the walls of books in a library only rivaled by the one at the De Marco estate, but the imposing desk in the center of the room only seems to make it seem like a James Bond movie. All Crew’s missing is a white cat, and it would be perfect.
The thought has a smirk tipping up the corners of my lips. The idea of any of these men with a cat is comical as hell.
“Something funny, Little Menace?” Crew asks, startling me.
I look up over the top of my book and find him standing just a few feet away, at the end of the couch. “Just the book,” I lie.
He glances at the title and gives me a knowing look. He knows damn well there’s nothing funny about this heart-wrenching story of lost love, but surprisingly, he doesn’t call me out.
I close the book and place it down on the table in front of me, looking anywhere but at him. Crew is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met, along with the other three also living under this roof, and my limited experience with the opposite sex makes it hard for me to know what to do around him.
“Here.” He holds out a folded piece of paper, his face neutral.
“What’s this?” I ask as I take it from him.
“An alternative.” He lowers himself onto the couch beside me, lifting my feet easily into his lap as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I’m too stunned to fight him on it. “I shouldn’t have assumed and should have been more sensitive to your family history. I apologize.”
I stare at him for a moment, my brows pinching together in confusion. A man like Crew Black doesn’t just apologize to someone, certainly not when that someone is causing him all kinds of headaches.
I unfold the piece of paper and read the contents.
Copper IUD. A non-hormonal birth control.
“If you would rather not go on anything, that’s fine too. I just know the others can be…impatient, and I imagine that will be much more the case when it comes to you than it has in the past.”
I open my mouth to respond, but quickly click it shut again. I don’t even know what to say. If it were just the fact that he did this research for me, I might be able to form a thought. But the fact he’s actively speaking about me sleeping with not one, but all four of them…I can’t even think straight, let alone speak.
An amused smile quirks up the corner of his lips, and for a fleeting moment, the mask he wears drops. The hard man who rules with an iron fist disappears, and in his place is a man trying to look out for his family. He almost seems human for just a second before he seems to realize it, and the shutters slam back into place.
“I’ve asked Rogers to order a Copper IUD just in case it is your preference. He said as there are no hormones, it shouldn’t mess with your current cycle.”
My cheeks heat impossibly hot because I’ve never spoken to a man about my period, and now I have one sitting in front of me talking about my cycle? Fuck me. I’m so far over my head right now, I’m surprised I haven’t drowned.
“Thank you.” I choke the words out, unable to form anything else, which only seems to amuse him.
I read through the information he handed me, checking the side effects and possible long-term complications associated with what he’s proposing, all the while feeling his eyes burning into the side of my face. Will I ever feel anything other than overwhelmed by Crew?
I’ve stood in rooms with some of the most powerful men in this city, standing beside my father as I learned how to do the job I was born to do, but something about the men of the Legion overwhelms me, and I wonder if any of the other families feel like this when they’re staring into the eyes of the devil.
Taking a deep breath, I look up at him, unsurprised when I find him staring at me expectantly. “Thank you for this,” I whisper.
He gives me a nod and moves to stand. “I’m sorry again for not considering your family’s history when I had Rogers give you that information. I’ll try to be more considerate in the future.”
Before I can respond, he crosses the room without a glance over his shoulder, leaving me more confused than I was before.
I need to understand what I’m doing here, what they want with me, and decide if the escape plan I’ve been concocting since I first woke up is going to work.
It’s one thing running from the devil when it’s business, but if there are feelings involved…I have to consider the possibility they won’t let me go.