Emily
Kissing Anders shakes me. There’s a rumbling inside me that says good girls don’t sleep with one guy and kiss another one.
Stupid twisted ethical code. I barely remember my mother, but there are times when I swear there’s a swirling wind around my body.
It pushes in, keeping my thoughts centered, my course set on one she’d like.
Some sort of set of weird rules that my six-year-old self thought was what she wants. Wanted.
I pull away even though my core has a whole different set of wants.
My insides vibrate. My leg bounces on its own.
I’m a jittery mess with every known emotion rushing at me all at once.
Where is that tornado wind now? Anxiety, check.
Not that that’s anything new. There’s a good dose of fear pushed in there as well, check.
To top it off, I’ve got a good portion of lust hanging around. Check.
I smile at Anders. He squeezes my knee and picks up his fork, polishing off the last bite of eggs from his plate.
I’ve got it bad for him. I thought I’d packed all those emotions away after Whitney’s wedding. His not coming to New York was supposed to sever the ties between us, wrap it up, and keep me from making the wrong decision. Again.
Supposed to.
That word. I’m supposed to be a quiet little rich girl.
I’m supposed to be the doting daughter.
Supposed to be my brother’s biggest fan.
Supposed to—
“Emily?”
Glancing at Anders’s rugged profile sends a vibrating record scratch through me. Adrenaline washes over my brain—a pattern from my youth. Years of anxiety have left deep ridges in me.
“Yeah,” I say, focused on his eyes. He’s so handsome it melts me, but so did Oliver this morning.
Suits aren’t normally sexy for me, but Oliver?
More than once, I’ve wondered how Haley could be attracted to all her guys.
I was skeptical for longer than I want to admit, wondering if she would end up hurting Easton.
But they’re so cute together. With all their animals.
If they decide to have kids, I’m going to have lots of competition for favorite aunt.
But that’s the sort of competition I don’t mind.
I need to focus. “Okay,” I answer to the question he didn’t really ask. “Did you finish reading Lilith’s handiwork?”
His coffee cup clicks on the table. “Not quite.” His eyebrows shoot up, and he cocks his head at my phone.
I hand it over to him. I’ve skimmed the scripts; they’re good, but the whole thing makes the eggs in my stomach sit like acid rocks. Lies on top of lies.
He bows his head, his focus intently on Lil’s words. His dark hair’s longer than I’ve seen it in a while—it sticks up on the back of his head.
The longer he reads, the tighter the crinkles around his eyes become. He’s one of the smartest, most level-headed men I’ve ever met.
I run my fingers through his hair where it’s standing up. He closes his eyes and puts the phone on the table.
“Damn, Em. You should stop.”
“Should I?”
His lips purse. Damn. If I have a swirling hurricane wind holding me in, Anders has a cyclone. Different but the same.
“Right,” I say without stopping because he’s leaning into my touch. His large rough hand moves to my knee. And a light groan somewhere between a purr and a moan filters through his lips.
Thundering footsteps behind me, echoing from the hall, burst our bubble.
“What’s going on here?” the crescendo of Ryder’s voice asks.
“Nothing now,” Anders says, placing my phone on the table.
“What?” Ryder looks between the two of us, but his eyes settle on me.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Okay, then, if it’s nothing, I have something. Follow me.” Ryder places his hands on the back of my chair and helps me out.
“What a gentleman,” I say.
“That’s me, always a gentleman.” There’s a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.
“Your face says you’re up to something.” His excitement sinks into me.
“He’s always up to something.” Anders stands and places my phone in my palm.
Ryder shrugs. “I like to make things interesting. Now let’s go.” He places one hand on my lower back and the other on Anders’s shoulder.
“We’re not going to get far.” I wiggle the monitor on my leg. “Unless you have a getaway car?”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Ryder steps in front of me and wiggles his eyebrows. He drops to a crouch in front of me, his hand lingering on my calf.
“What are you doing, man?” Anders asks, craning his neck around the empty hallway.
“I talked to Thayer before he left. It’s only Holloway and the chef in the house today. The rest are back tonight. We’ll have to be on our best behavior. But Holloway and Esmeralda, they are the two he trusts the most. This has to come off. It would be odd to have his fiancée wearing a tracker.”
I point my toe like a deranged Cinderella. Ryder pushes the cold metal of the clippers under the plastic band that’s given me more fight than a trophy tuna. His head rises slowly. “You’ve been a busy beaver.” He runs his fingers over the small dents I’ve put in the band.
“Giving up isn’t part of my makeup.”
“Mine either.” A wide smile takes over his face. “Hold still.” The cold metal of the clippers glides along my skin. There’s a quick tug on my leg, and Ryder slips the device into his pocket, then puts the clipper in his other pocket.
“Guess we’re outlaws now.” I smile at Ryder. His hand rests on my calf. His forehead furrows, his eyes narrowing on my ankle.
“Perhaps. Does this hurt?” His finger lingers on my skin.
“No.” Twisting my ankle, there’s a pink line under my ankle bone from where I’d been pulling on the band. But it doesn’t hurt.
“Good.” Ryder sets my foot on the ground. His eyes flick to Anders as he stands.
“What’s the grand idea?” Anders asks.
“Holloway’s going to let us take a walk. Thayer’s fiancée can’t be a shut-in. The two of us are your new personal security.” Ryder smiles and pockets the clippers.
Hope bubbles up from my toes, but a quick glance at my new security team has a wet blanket crashing down around me. “So this walk doesn’t have us strolling down a jet bridge at Heathrow?”
“Em,” Ryder says, a cock to his head. “If that’s what you want, we’ll make it happen.” He locks eyes with Anders.
“We’ll run for as long as it takes,” Anders says.
I squeeze my eyes shut. With them, I might be able to do it for a while. But Thayer’s dad isn’t one to let go. And we’ve all got people we care about. People the elder Zambrano would use against me. Against us.
“No, I said I’d go through with it, and I will. Let’s take a walk.” I cock my head down the corridor. There’s a sunbeam shimmering at the end.
I’m blinking at the bright globe in the sky as we walk across the crushed driveway, my arms linked with Ryder on one side and Anders on the other.
It’s a weird feeling, like I’m playing hooky from school and responsibilities.
Which I really am. I have things I need to do.
And apparently other roles I need to play.
Like those of a doting wife and expectant mother.
“Holloway says there is a trail that goes down to a pond.” Ryder nods at the side path around the house.
“There’s also a sidewalk.” I point to the road.
“Sure,” Ryder says and pulls out his phone.
“What are you doing?” I lean over.
“Telling Holloway what we’re doing. Better than having him come after us, guns blazing.” Ryder pockets his phone.
My eyebrow shoots up. “I thought you were an ask-for-forgiveness kind of guy.”
“I’ve learned to keep those for when they’re really necessary.” He guides us out onto the street.
Anders has gone quiet. I lay my hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yes, yeah.” He smiles down at me. “I think I saw a pub down the street on the way in.”
“I could go for some pub food.” I squeeze his arm.
The way in turns out to be more than a little bit of a misnomer. A mile down the street, Anders pulls out his cell phone and finds that the exact location of the Black Dragon is still half a mile away. We push on, the sunshine at our backs.
An aroma of fried food and polished oak hits me as Ryder holds the door open.
The red leather bench seat crinkles and squeaks as I shimmy across to the wall.
Anders sits next to me and Ryder across.
It’s a nice place, one where you could while away a Sunday afternoon watching football on one of the three televisions mounted over the bar.
No one pays us any mind until Ryder waves down a dark-haired server passing by with a tray under her arm.
“Fancy something to eat or just in for a pint?” she asks.
“What do you have for morning sickness?” Ryder asks, and I want to kick him under the table. But he’s looking at me with his deep blue, hazel-ringed eyes. It makes me turn to the server and sigh.
“Oh, no. I had that bad. I know just the thing.” She zips away before we can say another word.
“Ryder?”
“If Holloway’s men come anywhere, it’s here.”
“Right.”
Anders nods. “A few well-placed outside comments will make you more secure.”
I’m biting my lip when she comes back.
“It’s on the house.” She places a tall glass in front of me. There are three limes floating about and a few maraschino cherries amongst the fizzing bubbles.
“It was the only thing that kept me going. Let me know.” She smiles at me, and it’s clear she’s waiting for me to taste it. Now Ryder’s the one gently tapping my foot.
“Bottoms up.” I take a gentle sip, expecting a bitter taste that doesn’t arrive. I take a second sip. “It’s good.”
“Aye, right? Now what can I get the rest of you?”
I stare longingly at Ryder and Anders’s beers when they arrive.
“Sorry,” Anders says.
“It’s fine. I don’t drink beer that often.” Which isn’t exactly true anymore. Our Thursday nights seemed to be dominated by swimming and beer. At least, they were before we switched to whiskey. “This actually isn’t that bad.”
“Good, because the way the server’s looking at you, I have a feeling you’re getting another one.”
“I think she’s just worried that I ate all my crisps.”
Ryder pays the tab, and I take a moment to rest my hand on what I’d like to think is my nonexistent belly. But it is more like my cupcake, whiskey belly. “Thank you.”
We step out onto the street. The sunshine we found on the walk in has vanished. Low gray clouds hug the ground.
“I think we’re going to get wet,” I say.
“Want me to text Holloway?” Ryder asks.
My stomach tilts. This isn’t freedom, but it’s also not a castle tower. “I won’t melt.”
“Let’s take it at your pace, Em.” Anders waves at the road.
I’ve seen him run. There’s no way I could keep up with him.
But like I said earlier, I’m not one to give up on a challenge.
I take off down the sidewalk running, Ryder and Anders at my side.
I’m holding them back. When the rain spits at my shoulders, I pick up my pace, and in no time the sky’s pelting us with fat raindrops.
The three of us dart around parked cars and errant hedges sticking out of the road.
We’re about half a mile from the estate when Holloway pulls up beside us.
“Get in,” he growls.
I stick to the leather SUV seat as I slide across. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, don’t thank me yet. Boss isn’t exactly thrilled with you running in the rain. Not very pregnant of you.”
“I’m hardly pregnant.”
Holloway clears his throat.
“What I mean is, being one month pregnant doesn’t keep you from running. Have you met a pregnant woman before?”
Holloway scoffs, his eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror.
“He’s got a point, Em,” Ryder says.
“No, he doesn’t.” I let my head bounce on the headrest and cross my arms.