Chapter Twenty #2
“I’ve texted Damyr about the break in and he’s sending some people around to tidy it, and Acheron will set up some boundary wards for you while you’re with me.”
I grumbled at that. I knew Acheron would do a decent job of setting the wards, I just didn’t want him to throw in any surprises.
Byron cupped my cheek and pulled my gaze to his. “Baby, I’ve already said to Acheron that if he even thinks about doing something you wouldn’t like, I’ll cut his dick off and shove it so far up his ass that he’ll be able to lick his own balls.”
“You say the sweetest things,” I hummed before pressing my lips to his in a kiss that soon turned filthy.
“Only for you,” he replied. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Byron’s apartment building was definitely luxurious.
It was in the heart of the city and the building was one of those ridiculously high skyscrapers like the one my sister lived in.
Byron pulled up in the turning circle outside the building and chucked the keys to the valet before coming around to my side and opening my door for me.
We walked hand in hand past the actual uniformed doorman and into the lobby that was bigger than one you found in a hotel.
Dara’s place was expensive, but this building screamed money.
Jesus. How much did assassination actually pay?
The staff eyed Byron warily and cast some pitying glances at me.
What kind of people did Byron bring home with him?
Byron didn’t seem to give a shit as he dragged me across to one of the elevators.
Once the doors closed, he pushed me backwards, grabbed the back of my neck and slanted his mouth over mine.
His kiss was possessive and demanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a brutal precision that had my knees threatening to collapse beneath me.
His hands were everywhere, my hair, my hips, my ass.
I was so dazed and lost to the taste of him, I didn't even hear the ding signalling the arrival to the top floor.
Of course Byron lived in the penthouse suite.
And it had a large shiny gold front door.
“Subtle,” I chuckled as we walked towards it.
Byron shrugged and typed the code in to open it. I followed him in and got my first look at the place that Byron called home.
I’d imagined the place to be all dark colours and neat and orderly but it was bright and airy.
Windows spanned the length of the far wall showing the lights of the city below.
The floors were dark wood but the furniture and cabinetry were all light shades between cream and stone.
It was… soft and inviting and not what I expected at all.
One wall housed a large bookcase full of graphic novels. That was unexpected. The opposite wall showcased a large collection of knives from all over the world. That seemed more like the Byron I knew.
“Do you like it?” Byron asked as he came to stand behind me, his arms snaking around my waist and his chin resting on my shoulder.
“It wasn’t what I expected, but it feels very you.”
“If you don’t like it, we can change it to whatever you want. I’m not fussed, I just like the simplicity of a single colour palette. Too much colour feels like too much noise to me. It helps keep the chaos at bay.”
“And the graphic novels?” I pointed towards the vast collection. “You like those?”
“Probably the way you like music.”
I turned on the spot, Byron moving with me. “And all the knives?”
He shrugged. “I like knives. These are ones I’ve collected on my travels. Bishop says I hoard them like a dragon hoards treasure, but I just like to look at my favourite things. These knives, I just took to them and I couldn’t bring myself to part with them. I refused to.”
“The same way you refuse to part with me?” I thought I’d regret hearing those words out loud, but I didn’t.
Byron’s eyes snapped to mine with a possessiveness that had my cock hardening instantly. “Yes. I’ll never part with you.”
“Will you put me in a display box with your knives?”
Byron dragged his nose up the column of my throat, breathing in deeply.
“But if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to touch you whenever I want to and I very much want to touch you.
There isn’t a minute that goes by where I don’t think about my fingers on your skin.
” He pushed the hem of my jumper up and trailed the tips of his fingers over the top of my hip bones and down my V-line before playing with the top of my waistband.
“Even when you sleep. Fuck, I want to sink deep inside you when you’ve got no control, because knowing it’s when you’re at your most vulnerable makes my dick hard. ”
“Jesus,” I blurted breathlessly.
“Can I do that, baby? Can I fuck you while you sleep?”
At least he was asking. That had to count for something, right? Maybe even progress. “Yes.”
The single word was whispered, but it hit hard and heavy. This was trust. In Byron. In believing that he would never do anything more than he thought I could handle.
This was everything.
Byron stilled behind me. “Really?”
“Yes.” A little jolt of excitement bubbled up inside me at the thought of being woken by Byron sinking his cock into me. I wanted that. Wanted to feel him in that way. Did that make me the crazy one?
It certainly made me crazy for him.
Sharp teeth nipped at my neck. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
I imagined it was something similar to the way he made me feel. Desperate and needy and singularly focussed on him.
“Do you think we should deal with the box in the room?” I asked, my throat dry and voice husky.
I felt Byron’s smile pull wide across the side of my neck. “If that’s what you really want, then sure.”
He stepped away from me, and I dragged a deep breath into my lungs. My hands trembled with how big that moment just felt. It all clicked into place. I was his. He was mine. And I was going to let him ruin me in any way he saw fit.
I looked deep into Byron’s eyes, wondering if he could feel it too.
There was something softer about them as he looked back at me.
It wasn’t love, it never could be, but maybe it was acceptance or an acknowledgement of what we were.
He’d always known it, and really, he’d never given me a choice, but I think that’s what I’d needed. And he fucking knew it.
The asshole knew how to play me well.
The smile that pulled at my lips felt natural and free. “Let’s take a look in the box. Together.”
His lips pulled into a small smirk and he grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the kitchen. And of course, the kitchen was massive. It was all black marble and grey cabinets, it should have felt dark and cold, but it didn’t. It was spacious and inviting and full of warm low lighting.
“How big is this place?” I asked as we stepped towards the island.
“This apartment is the whole top floor and the one beneath, but that’s Bishop’s space.”
“So you own a two-level penthouse suite?” Jeez, how rich was this guy?
“Nope,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I own the whole building.”
“What? Seriously? You don’t even give off ‘rich guy’ vibes.” He wore the same clothes pretty much every day, stole Damyr’s cars, and I’d only really seen him living in the Morozov Mansion.
He shrugged carelessly. “It’s just money and I’m not an extravagant person. Bishop tries to spend it like it’s burning a hole in his pocket, but I invested wisely and now the money just makes itself. The only things I’ve indulged in are the things that make me happy.”
“Like knives and a private island?”
“Exactly. And I bought this place because it had space for Bishop when he eventually stopped running from me. I’ve lived here for years and when the whole building came up for sale, it meant I could control the sort of people who lived here too.”
That made sense and sounded very much like Byron.
He jumped onto one of the stools and pulled me to stand between his thighs. “So, the box.”
Byron slipped the small box out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the island next to us.
I swallowed hard as I took in the little wooden box.
It was square, about the size of my hand and the height of my thumb.
I dreaded to think what my father had left in it.
“I know I need to look in it but… I… I’m scared of what he’s left there.
I know that makes me sound like a coward, but I know it’s going to hurt.
Whatever it is, my father wants me to suffer. ”
Byron pressed a kiss to the top of my head, a gesture that was so sweet it made my heart race. “You’re not a coward, and you’re not on your own. I’m right here, baby.”
His words settled some of the darkness clinging to my soul. They bolstered me and helped me stand on my own two feet. My body might be trembling and ready to crumble, but Byron stood with me, holding my hand and holding me up.
I wasn’t alone.
I could do this.
“Okay,” I breathed and stretched a shaky hand to pop the lid of the thin box. I opened the small clasp and lifted the lid.
Set into a blue velvet cushion was a delicate necklace. A simple chain ending in a beautiful tear-shaped diamond. In the middle of the cushion, was a small scrap of paper and the ominous words, written in my father’s elegant hand:
Pick me up if you want to know what really happened to her.
“What does he mean?” Byron asked, his hand curling around my hip.
“The necklace belonged to my mother.”
Byron rested his chin on my shoulder, his lips pressing against the soft spot below my ear. Not sexually but just resting there. Like he knew I needed his touch to ground me. “Your mother?”
“Yeah, there was a large picture of her in the family home, and she had this necklace on. Dara would tell me it was her favourite. I don’t really remember much about her. She died giving birth to me. Or that’s what I’ve always been told.” Now, I was starting to doubt that.