Chapter 21
21
W here the fuck was she?
Okay. He knew he had no right to be angry that she wasn’t here. He sounded like a possessive asshole, even to him.
That’s because I am a possessive asshole.
She should be here, waiting for me.
Fuck.
He groaned to himself as he moved back to the car. Jose looked up at the house, then over at him. “What next, boss?”
“We wait.”
To his credit, Jose’s expression didn’t change. He simply nodded, then opened the back door. But as he did, a car turned the corner of the street. Jose quickly moved to cover him, his hand going to his gun.
“Get in, boss.”
Regent knew the drill.
His ego wasn’t so big that he couldn’t follow instructions for his safety. He’d never do anything to put Jose in danger by acting stupid.
But as the car came to a stop behind them, he paused. The back door opened and a seemingly drunk Jilly stumbled out.
“Thanks,” she said to the driver, who pulled away as soon as she shut the door.
What. The. Hell.
She stumbled as she moved along the footpath. Jose stepped away from him and toward her, holding a hand out.
“Do not touch her,” Regent barked at him.
His bodyguard immediately stepped back, his hands up in the air to placate Regent.
Yeah, he was acting like that possessive asshole he’d accused himself of being. But he couldn’t stand to have another person touch his girl.
Moving closer, he reached out for her as she took another step and nearly tripped . . . over nothing.
How much had she had to drink?
And what the fuck was she wearing? She had an oversized hoodie on, which reached to mid-thigh, and a pair of flip-flops.
“Where have you been?” he asked in a harsher voice than he’d intended.
She let out a scream, jumping away from him. Had she seriously just noticed that he was standing there?
How could she be so reckless as to get so drunk that she wasn’t even aware of her surroundings?
Not to mention getting into a car with someone he assumed was an Uber driver and, therefore, a stranger whom he hadn’t vetted.
From now on, he wasn’t allowing anyone near her who he hadn’t personally approved of.
And if she didn’t like that . . . well, she’d just have to suck up her protests because that was what was happening.
“Reggie. Veggie. Bobeggie.”
What the fuck was a bobeggie? She was practically slurring her words.
“How much have you had to drink?” he barked. “This is completely unacceptable. What were you thinking? Anything could have happened to you while you were this drunk!”
She wiggled her finger in the air as she attempted to stand still. But she kept swaying.
“You can’t talk to me like that. I’m a . . . a grown woman . . . I don’t need to put up with this.”
She moved toward the house and slid sideways. Leaping to her, he grabbed her and lifted her into his arms.
Something was wrong.
He needed to get her inside.
“Jose, here, take the key and go unlock the door and turn the lights on.” He shifted her weight so he could grab the key to her place from his pocket.
“You got it, boss,” Jose replied, taking the key.
“Hey, Jose! S-sorry I wouldn’t let you give m-me a ride all those other times. I wanted to. But you can’t give in to Dracula or he sucks your blood. My blood doesn’t taste very nice, you evil, soulless bastard.”
Dear Lord.
“Your high opinion of me is astounding,” he said dryly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dracula. Of course I don’t have a high opinion of you. You’re a meanie. A meanie-bo-beanie. Wait, have you been smoking?”
She glared up at him accusingly.
“Yes.”
She wagged her finger at him. “Naughty. Smoking is very, very bad. You shouldn’t do it. It’s not good for your health. Understand?”
“Is that so?”
“It is so. You should give it up. Right now.”
“All right.”
“All right?” she asked. “It isn’t that easy. You can’t just say you’ll quit and do it.”
“I don’t smoke much. I gave it up before, I can do it again. For you.”
He walked into the house and through to the living room, where he laid her on the couch. She stared up at him with glassy eyes. There were red patches on her cheeks.
She wasn’t drunk at all. She was ill.
Placing his hand over her forehead, he nearly snatching it back when her skin sizzled against his.
“How long have you been running a fever?”
“I don’t know,” she grumbled as she rolled onto her side, glaring at him. “Go away. I don’t like you. Even if you stop smoking.”
Ouch.
That hurt more than it should have. But he pushed that away for the moment. He wasn’t the one who was burning up and delirious.
“Jose?” he called out.
“Yes, boss?” Jose asked.
“Call Doctor Stanley. Tell him she’s got a high temperature and that I want him here now.”
“Sure.”
“I’m going to take her upstairs.”
“Nooo,” she grumbled as he once again picked her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. “I don’t want to get out of bed, Mama. I’m sick. I don’t care that Daddy will be mad. Let me stay in bed. Please.”
God. She was killing him here. Had her father made her get out of bed when she was ill?
Fucking monster.
“Hush, baby,” he crooned. “I’m just taking you to bed.”
“You are?” she said in an awed voice.
“Yes. I’m going to strip you off and put you to bed. Won’t that be nice?”
“Nice? Nice! I don’t want nice. I want mind-blowing. I want incredible, stupendous, amazing! Don’t ruin it for me and tell me that you’re a dud in bed.”
“Uh.” He paused halfway up the stairs, unsure what to say to that.
“Because that would be a real bummer since I’ve kind of built you up to this sex god in my head. Please tell me you’re a sex god. Please.”
“You are going to be so upset if you remember all of this once the fever breaks.”
“I want my mama. I want her to make me chicken soup. Please. Father doesn’t need to know. Let’s not tell him.”
“Shh, no one is telling that bastard anything.” He started up the stairs again.
He didn’t think it was possible to hate Orlando Crane more. Turned out he was wrong. With every detail she unwittingly revealed about the bastard, he discovered more to hate.
“Shh.” She held her finger up to her mouth. “He might hear you.”
“Baby, he won’t hear me. He’s dead.”
“Dead?” she asked.
“Yes, dead.”
“Did I kill him?”
He stopped again at the top of the stairs, staring down at her. “Baby. No.”
“Oh. I thought about it. He was so mean. Way meaner than Meangent-Regent.”
“You know that meangent isn’t a word, right?”
“Pfft. No one cares about that.”
Right.
Good to know.
He carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed.
“What were you doing out, if you’re ill?” he asked.
“I didn’t know I was ill before I left.” She started shivering. “I’m cold.”
“You’re burning up.”
“So cold. Come warm me up.” She held open her arms.
“I’ve got to strip you off and get you into bed. And find a thermometer.”
“I want huggles.”
“Baby.”
“Don’t you want to hug me?” she said with a sniffle.
Holy. Shit.
Stand your ground. A hug isn’t what she needs right now. What she needs is for you to take care of her.
“I need to get you into bed.”
“So you’re just a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am?” she asked. “No cuddles and aftercare? I should have known.”
What?
He wasn’t sure what she was saying. But as he reached for her hoodie, she scuttled back. “I can do it.”
Regent eyed her. He had the feeling that he’d grossly miscalculated.
But he wasn’t the hugging type.
You would hug your sister if she needed it.
Yes, but Lottie made up most of his world, followed by his brothers and their women. And Ace and Keir, of course.
He’d give Lottie the moon if she asked for it. Regent walked into the attached bathroom and started looking for a first-aid kit. He found a half-empty one in the bathroom cabinet.
When he stood, he paused, looking at himself.
What if Jilly needed that hug? Was it really such a big deal to give it to her?
But if he started hugging her, would she get the wrong idea?
And what is the wrong idea? That you want her? And not just for sex?
You want her.
He put the first-aid kit down and gripped the sink, breathing in and out steadily.
This couldn’t happen.
Remember, you’re trying to keep her safe by keeping your distance.
Only how could he do that now that she was ill?
He couldn’t. Unless someone he trusted took care of her.
And who could he trust with her?
Maybe one of her friends . . .
He nearly growled at the thought.
You should let the doctor take care of her. You have no idea what you’re doing.
Right.
Walking back into the bedroom, he saw that she was still lying in the bed. He placed the thermometer on the bedside table. Her hair was in tight braids against her head.
And there was heavy makeup on her face, although not around her eyes, which was weird. But she had a thick foundation on and bright red lipstick.
She couldn’t leave that on.
Her clothes were in a pile on the floor on the other side of the bed. He made a mental note to pick them up later and wash them for her.
Actually, he was going to throw that hoodie out. It looked like a man’s garment. And if she was going to wear any men’s clothing, they were going to be his.
And he was not going to think too closely about that sentiment.
“Jilly? I need to take you into the bathroom so you can brush your teeth and wash your face.”
“No. Go away. I don’t like you.”
“Jilly, you will feel much better if you do this.”
She shook her head, sniffing. Fuck. Had he made her cry?
You’re a fucking asshole. Just hug her.
“Would it help if I hugged you?” he asked.
“I don’t want a pity hug.”
“It won’t be a pity hug. I really want to hug you.”
She eyed him for a long moment. “Fine, I’ll wash my face and brush my teeth.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief.
“But you don’t have to hug me. I know . . . I know I’m nothing more than an inconvenience.”
“Baby, that’s not true.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that. It makes me think you care.” She sat up with the blankets held to her chest.
Fuck. Was she naked?
“I do care.”
She eyed him through glazed eyes. Poor girl really didn’t look well.
“Would I be here if I didn’t?” he asked.
“You’re here because Mama asked you to check up on me. Because she thinks she can play Cupid. She doesn’t realize that she’s never had any accuracy with shooting arrows at things.”
“I’m not here because of your mother. I’m here because of you. Because I needed to see you. All right?”
“Fine. Could you hand me my robe? I forgot my pajamas.”
“I’ll get your pajamas. Where are they?”
“In the second drawer down over there.” She waved her hand at the dresser, where he found a pair of lightweight pajamas. His mouth dropped open as he saw what else was in her pajama drawer. There were so many toys she could nearly open a sex shop.
There were two different vibrators. One had an attached clit tickler. The other had a clit tickler and a slimmer wand that would obviously go into her ass.
Then there was a set of anal training plugs. As well as a huge black anal plug. Could she really fit that in her ass?
A set of anal beads with a T-bar base.
A glass dildo.
Three cock rings.
A set of nipple clamps.
An exceptionally enormous bottle of lube.
Jilly used all of these? He had to admit that he was shocked when not much ever shocked him anymore.
“Regent?”
Shit.
Quickly, he grabbed her robe, too. Then he walked back to where she held her hands out.
“I should help you.”
“Um, no. I have this.”
He frowned. “You shouldn’t get out of bed. You might fall and hit your head.”
“I’ll be fine. Give me my stuff and then turn your back.”
Grumbling to himself, he turned around. This was ridiculous. She was ill. She should let him help her.
There were rustling noises then he heard a door shut. Turning, he saw that the bathroom door was closed.
Crap.
He stood there, wondering what he should do. She shouldn’t really be in there on her own, should she?
Regent wasn’t used to taking care of sick people. Lottie had gotten sick a few times, but Gerald had prepared all her food and medicine. And if she was very ill, Regent had hired a nurse.
He paced back and forth, debating with himself about whether he should go in until the door opened again.
“Are you all right?” He stepped in front of her.
“Bed. I want my bed.”
She slumped forward and he grabbed her. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed. When he laid her down, he realized she hadn’t washed her face.
Sitting next to her, he picked up the thermometer.
“Open your mouth, baby.”
“No.”
“Jilly,” he said sternly.
“Nope.”
“Jilly, open your mouth. Now.”
“I don’t have to do what you say.”
“You do have to do what I say. Open your mouth.”
“For years, I wanted to hear those words. Dreamed about it. But does he say it how I want him to say it? No . . . all he wants to do is stick something plastic in there. Well, I don’t want plastic!”
She didn’t want plastic? What did she want?
“You don’t have a glass thermometer.”
“Don’t want glass either.”
All right. Enough. She wasn’t making any sense and he needed to take her temperature. This was a matter of her health.
“Jilly. Open. Right. Now.” He used his sternest voice.
She sniffled. A tear dripped down her face.
Oh. Fuck.