Chapter 22
I’m Not in Love
When I eventually step out of the bathroom, I find my bedroom door shut and the room eerily silent.
Thank the Lord because I’m just in a towel.
I didn’t think that shower through. All I knew was I needed to get away from them and purge the awful way I was feeling.
The hot shower was a slight comfort, but this feeling deep in the pit of my stomach won’t go away.
Probably ever. I guess at least now I know what this is.
I was stupidly starting to have feelings, something I don’t do, ever.
The only way to truly protect myself is to never fall for anyone.
Keep my heart locked up tight. That way, whatever they do to me, it doesn’t matter.
And now I know what I was feeling was nothing more than sexual desire, a throbbing need between my legs that I wanted desperately to be filled.
That’s all. I can stay here with them, knowing that.
It’s easy, actually. They will use me to get paid by my brother, and I will use them for protection and maybe the occasional orgasm if I feel like it.
No one needs to get hurt because it is what it is. Simple.
With that thought in mind, I step into my closet and select a dress off the rack.
Something cute I picked out with Sloane today and that I will wear just for me.
It has a floral pattern in burgundy and black and fits snugly around my waist with a skirt that has two layers and sits just above my knees.
I find a pair of knee-high black socks and roll them on.
No need for shoes since we’re staying in.
I don’t even want to go out into the world again, knowing my papa’s people are out there somewhere looking for me.
Brushing my hair, I leave it out to dry, not bothering with make-up.
I have no one I need to impress here. That thought should be liberating, except it’s not.
Because as stupid as I now know it is, I was enjoying their attention, the way it felt to be seen for once.
I could have gotten used to it, but now I just feel empty again. Like I used to.
When I open the door, I expect to hear chaos, the boys arguing or some fight on the TV, but it’s quiet, the low hum of a TV playing music in the background and the aroma of a simmering tomato and fresh garlic dinner cooking on the stove, but that’s it.
Jagger stands at the stove stirring a pot, his back to me. Asher is setting the table, and he offers me a lopsided smile that looks almost apologetic. I don’t pretend to smile back. I don’t have it in me.
Cruz is plonked on the sofa with the remote in his hand, channel surfing from some music clips, to football games, to some drama, his knee bouncing as he does.
I stand in the doorway, not sure what to do.
I feel awkward in their presence, like I don’t belong here for the first time since they dragged me back to this apartment.
Even when Jagger was telling me to leave and move out, I didn’t feel this uncomfortable.
But something has shifted because now I know the truth.
“Go tell her it’s ready. If she doesn’t want to eat, make her,” Jagger grumbles into the room, and I suspect he doesn’t realize I’m standing right here. He sounds angry, but it’s not like he has any right to be.
“Dinner’s ready, little princess,” Asher says, his smile broadening.
He’s one sexy motherfucker. It makes sense he has a new girl every night.
He works at a sex club and is constantly surrounded by beautiful women, so why wouldn’t he enjoy himself?
Especially when he looks like he stepped off the front page of Bad Boy Weekly magazine, if there even was such a thing.
Jagger looks over his shoulder, his face hardening when he sees me standing here.
Then, he looks back at the meal he’s preparing.
And maybe I have found the reason Jagger needs to pay for sex and have the women wear a blindfold.
He might be just as attractive as his younger brother in a dark, broody kind of way, but his personality is shit.
He’s bossy and grumpy and constantly irritated.
Or maybe that’s just around me because I’m such an inconvenience to him.
A job he never wanted to take on, and that is it.
Asher pulls out a chair. “You can sit here,” he offers, turning on the charm real thick, a smile that makes it all the way to his dimples. “We even have wine if you want a drink?”
I shake my head. The last thing I need to do is drink around these guys. I have already made enough bad choices when it comes to them. I move through the room to the chair and sit with an exhausted sigh. My body feels weighed down.
Cruz turns off the TV, coming to join us. His eyes track over me, his lips turning up at the sides by the time they make it to my face. “Cute,” is all he says before he plonks down into the chair beside me, like everything is normal between us.
Part of me wishes I could go back to this morning, still be on that blissful high with him, instead of feeling like shit like I do now.
Sometimes it’s better not to know the truth.
But then I know I would have only gotten myself in deeper here than I could handle.
This is for the best, Daisy, you have to know it is.
I stare at my empty bowl, wondering what on earth the grump has cooked up for us.
Cruz and Asher’s eyes burn into me, but I can’t return their looks, it just hurts.
I have no idea why, when I have known them for such a small amount of time.
What, did I expect them to be into me for real?
That’s just foolish. The truth makes more sense.
But it doesn’t mean it hasn’t left a strange hollowness inside of me.
A small part of me wanted more for my life than being alone forever just to protect my heart.
Jagger circles the table, spaghetti in hand, filling our bowls, before topping them off with what looks like a hearty bolognese sauce and fresh-shaven parmesan cheese.
Even though he’s cooked up something that smells and looks delicious, I can’t imagine him as a cook; his tattooed, muscular build seems mismatched at the stove, cooking for his brothers almost like a father figure to them.
It’s almost comical, and I might laugh if I wasn’t trying so hard not to do anything that could end in my bursting into tears again.
Cruz doesn’t wait for the rest of us, he just digs right in, and Asher follows him.
I pick up my fork, knowing I should thank Jagger for the meal he has prepared, it would be the polite thing to do, but he’s never been polite to me, and I’m feeling spiteful tonight, so I rebel against my manners and keep my thank-you to myself.
Inspecting the bowl of pasta, I wonder if it’s safe to consume.
With a heavy sigh, I spin the spaghetti around my fork and scoop it into my mouth.
I have nothing to lose. An instant moan of pleasure leaves my lips.
I’m Italian, and I have never tasted a sauce like this. It’s divine.
“That delicious, hey, little darlin’?” Cruz snickers, polishing off his bowlful before reaching for the ladle and scooping himself a second helping.
I glare at Cruz then scoop up another mouthful, shoving it in my mouth quickly when I realize Cruz isn’t the only one watching me.
Jagger’s steely gaze is fixed on my mouth.
I can’t help but wonder what he is thinking.
Is he wondering if I like his food or is he picturing my mouth wrapped back around his cock?
Why do I get the feeling from the mischief in his dark eyes, it’s the latter?
Quickly I glance away, concentrating on my meal.
I can do this, eat here, sleep here, work at the club.
It’s not quite the exciting life I envisioned for myself for the next few months, but it’s doable.
I reckon I could even do it without having to utter a single word to any of them ever again.
I just have to stop picturing them naked and we’re good.
Cruz’s hand moves to my thigh, dusting its way slowly up my leg, his eyes locking with mine. “Cat got your tongue?” He grins cheekily.
His touch lights me up inside and has me already going back on my agreement with myself not to imagine them naked. I raise a brow like what the hell are you doing, trying to act chill and bitchy so he backs off.
His grin widens, with a hint of psycho in it, and my heart flutters. My body is intrigued way too much by him. His hand slides higher up my thigh, playing with the trim on the skirt of my dress.
I press my legs together, giving him the fuck-off hint. What the hell is he doing? And why is my body reacting to him as if she likes it? My cheeks heat at the thought of what he wants, because I think I know exactly what he’s doing. This morning was never going to be enough for him. Or for me.
He pushes his hand between my thighs like there was no effort involved at all, and the truth is, I can’t fight him off, even with both of his brothers at the table eating with us. I don’t really want to. His palm moves all the way to where my silky thong sits.
A gasp escapes my lips as he cups my pussy through my panties, stroking his fingers over my most sensitive spot.
I look to Asher for help or something, my eyes widening, but he just looks fascinated with his brother’s antics. His lips curl up at the sides in a way that makes him look sexy as all hell. And suddenly, I’m crazy flustered. And that makes my heart race even faster.
“What are you doing?” I snip under my breath at Cruz. So much for not talking to any of them, but he’s just made it impossible.
Cruz pulls his hand free. “Getting you to talk to us again.” He chuckles as if he just won something.
Even damn Jagger is snickering at his brother’s behavior.