Chapter 11
Morgan
I didn't know how I imagined I would feel when I got back to my house, but I didn't think I'd be reluctant to even get out of the SUV.
"I can go in and collect your things," Twisted offers when he spots me in the back seat, looking out the window with minor trepidation.
"You just want to go through my underwear drawer," I tease before I can think about what I'm saying.
I've always been flirty, and it hasn't occurred to me until recently, especially after my conversation with Kaylee this morning, that I, at minimum, give guys hope when there isn't any. In some cases, I literally flirt hard enough that they begin to show signs of obsession.
"Sorry," I say, noticing the smile beginning to spread across his face.
When his cheeks cave with disappointment, I know I'm going to have to have a conversation with him sooner rather than later.
"I'll go in and clear the house," Whiskey says as he pulls open the driver's side door. "Give you guys a chance to talk."
I scowl at the man as he winks at me through the back driver's side window before circling behind the vehicle and walking toward the front door.
I should be concerned that he didn't even have to ask me for the code to get into the house, but I imagine it's something that Robert supplied him with. I make a mental note to change the code before coming back here.
Robert mentioned Henry always being a step ahead of him their entire lives where his games and taunting were concerned. So there's no doubt that Henry also has access to my door codes and will probably always have the ability to get in whenever he feels like it.
I now understand why Kaylee was so adamant about staying at the villa rather than returning here. At this moment, sitting outside my own house, I have no desire to ever come back. Hell, I'm not even sure I really want to go inside.
I keep my eyes on the front door, hoping Twisted doesn't speak. I don't want to be mean to the man, and I already feel like crap for flirting with him only moments ago.
"You know you're safe with us, right?" he asks, shifting in his seat so he can look in my direction.
I regret sitting behind Whiskey instead of Twisted because it gives the latter the perfect angle to watch me.
"I know," I tell him. "I didn't think it would be so hard to come back here."
"Your sanctuary has been violated. That's an awful thing to have to deal with. Had all of this happened elsewhere, it would've been bad, but it's always worse when victimization happens in the home. It's understandable for you to be upset."
I dip my head in understanding, doing my best not to give in to the sting of tears behind my eyes. I've always considered myself a strong woman. I don't cry at the drop of a hat.
"I can't believe I picked someone who would want to hurt me," I whisper, clearing my throat when it grows weaker at the end of the declaration.
"That's the whole thing, Morgan," he says, his hand pressing into the driver's side seat as if he's trying to resist reaching for me.
I appreciate the fact that he doesn't.
"You didn't pick him. He picked you and then he played the perfect part in being exactly who you were looking for at the time. You did nothing wrong."
"I can't wait for all of this to be over," I mutter, reaching for the doorknob when Whiskey walks back out on the front porch and gives us a thumbs-up.
I climb out of the SUV, not wanting to go inside but also feeling relieved not to be in the vehicle with Twisted any longer than I have to be.
I feel more than a little vulnerable, and I don't want to fall into old habits and seek comfort in a man I don't feel any real connection to just for the temporary relief it would provide.
"Ready?" he asks as he steps up beside me.
"I guess," I say, stepping toward the porch.
Thankfully, he maintains a little distance as I climb the front steps, although he bumps me slightly when I halt just inside the door without warning.
"It's so clean," I say, looking around the open floor plan home.
"We supervised a cleaning company to come in like we said," Twisted explains. "We also inventoried everything the caterers left with that night so you could go over the list and make sure you weren't missing anything."
"Thank you," I tell him. "That was very thoughtful."
"Was there anything you needed down here on the first floor?" Whiskey asks, and I can tell he wants to get this show on the road.
I shake my head, grateful that they're here to accompany me. Had I come back alone, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to step inside the front door.
"Take your time," Twisted says, and I look up just in time to see him shoot an annoyed look at Whiskey.
"I won't be long," I tell them, wanting to get out from the middle of whatever issue they seem to have with each other, but Twisted follows close behind me as I traverse the stairs to the second floor.
I chance half of a glance in the direction of the room Henry held Kaylee in, but there's no chance I'll be going in that direction today. I consider the need to sell the house and move because I don't know if I'll ever feel comfortable here again. The violation just seems too big to overcome without a fresh start.
"Whiskey just did a preliminary search," Twisted says as I reach for the doorknob to my bedroom. "We haven't checked for electronic devices."
I turn to face him, unsure what he's getting at.
"We don't know if Henry put listening devices or cameras in the house. I would advise against changing clothes or doing anything you don't want to be seen by someone else."
A rush of goosebumps races out over my arms.
"Seriously?"
He shrugs, his lips forming a flat line before he speaks. "He's a sick fuck. I wouldn't discount the possibility of anything at this point."
"Jesus," I mutter.
"I can check," he begins as he steps closer, his intention of following me into my bedroom becoming clear.
It wouldn't be the first time he was in there. He accompanied me when I gathered some clothes the night of the party, but it doesn't feel right for him to be in there again.
I turn and press my palm to the opposite side of the doorframe.
"I think we need to talk," I say, looking up at his face.
"Okay," he says, his voice taking on a different tone.
"I think there may be some crossed wires," I begin, having to pause to figure out what I'm going to say next.
I don't normally spend time rejecting guys. It's too easy to ghost someone and force them to move on. I know it isn't nice, but men get so damned butt-hurt when they're rejected. After a few guys scared me to the point I thought they'd get violent when I was in my early twenties, I've avoided situations like that entirely since.
I can't ghost Twisted if we're going to be staying in the same house, and I also don't think he's a bad guy. I'm just not compatible the way he might think we are.
"I'm so grateful that you helped the other night," I say, dropping my hand when my first instinct is to press it to his chest in a comforting way. "But I don't see there ever being anything more between us."
He looks down at me, pretty blue eyes blinking as if I've just said something in a foreign language he doesn't understand.
I realize as he watches me for a couple of beats that the man has probably never been rejected. It has to be a punch to the gut, and I feel a little bad for him, but not enough to backpedal.
I give him a weak smile, and he takes a step back. I hadn't even realized how close he'd gotten.
"Morgan," he whispers, shaking his head. "I want to apologize if there's been anything I've done that’s made you uncomfortable."
His response is a new one for me.
He doesn't argue his point. He doesn't list off all his attributes or get angry enough to tell me just what I'll be missing by not giving him a chance.
It's very refreshing.
"I just didn't want wires to be crossed," I tell him with another gentle smile.
"I'll be downstairs when you're ready to leave," he says before walking away.
I stare at his back as he descends the stairs because his reaction seems a little too calm. I fully expected the same sort of response I've always gotten. I've never had a guy act so maturely with a rejection, and I don't know how to deal with the reasonableness.
Somehow his reaction makes me feel like the biggest asshole that ever walked the earth as I close myself in my bedroom.
I consider for a second that maybe I should just stay here, that my time at the Cerberus villa has come to an end, but, glancing around my room, not knowing if Henry has been in here, makes my skin crawl. The idea that he could have cameras and is watching me right now moves me into action as I grab a couple of suitcases from my closet and pack.
I'm in a rush, but I make better choices in picking my clothes this time than I did the other night, knowing that I'll be returning to work tomorrow. I doubt my boss would be very impressed if I arrived in leggings and a t-shirt when the dress code at the office is business casual.
Five minutes later, I'm struggling to drag both suitcases, my personal hygiene bag, and my makeup bag through the door.
"I can help with that."
I scream in terror at the unexpected sound of someone's voice behind me.
Whiskey is frowning when I glare at him.
"Calm down, lady," he mutters as he reaches for the handles of both my suitcases.
I huff a laugh because this guy is a breath of fresh air. It's clear he isn't impressed with me, and that sort of makes me slightly more comfortable around him.
"Thank you," I say, but he's already halfway down the stairs with my luggage.
I don't know how weird this is going to be, but after I lock the front door, Twisted climbs out of the passenger seat to open the back door for me as Whiskey puts my suitcases in the back of the SUV.
"Thank you," I tell him before climbing inside and buckling up.
Neither man says a single word on the ride back to the villa.