17. Wynter
Wynter
I sat next to Bas, whose knuckles had red marks from beating the man that dared to grab my ass. He and Priest were discussing business. The only reason I was here was because Bas refused to let me out of his sight.
Tonight didn’t go exactly as I expected it.
I should have just told Bas I’d wait for him in the suite.
I chewed the inside of my cheek as thoughts swirled in my mind.
Seeing this side of Bas should have scared the living daylights out of me and had me running.
Yet, the fierce protectiveness warmed me from the inside out.
Maybe something was wrong with me. Or maybe despite living with Mom in California away from Uncle, Killian, and their underworld, I was just as tainted as them. I’d kill just as they surely did. Just as Bas did.
A heavy sigh left me.
“You good?” Bas’ question had me lifting my eyes to find six pairs of eyes on me.
The lighting was low and the air carried a hint of cigarette smoke.
It was actually a very stylish office with dark blue accents, several flat-screen TVs and the largest mini-bar that I’d ever seen.
Not that I’ve seen many. The men seated around the table were tense, discussing some business deal.
They alternated between Italian and English and since the only foreign languages I could speak were Gaelic and Russian, I couldn’t follow what they were saying, not that I cared to.
The beat of the music pulsed through the walls and the glass that separated us from the dance floor and bar area where I was groped.
A thick atmosphere hung in the air among the men seated around this round mahogany table.
“Yeah, all good,” I said, offering a reassuring smile.
Bas’ shoulders tensed as he let out an unamused breath. He didn’t say anything else, but I knew he didn’t believe me. Except, I didn’t know how to reassure him that his slightly disturbing behavior wasn’t the cause of my distress.
It was the revelation that it didn’t bother me as much as it should. It didn’t have me running away from him and all my reason said that it should.
“You look familiar,” one of the men at the table commented. “I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”
I reached for my phone in my pocket and saw I had a bunch of missed messages.
“I get that all the time,” I answered, never raising my head and swiping the first message open.
Juliette, Ivy, and Davina threw around a bunch of ideas for the school we planned on founding one day. A missed message from my mom.
“It will come to me,” the guy insisted. “You don’t forget a pretty girl with your face.”
Bas growled and I recognized Priest’s voice. “That’s Basilio’s girl so rethink your next words.”
A smile pulled at my lips. It was dumb that being labeled as Basilio’s girl made me all giddy. I tried to hide it, keeping my gaze downcasted.
Instead I read the text from my mom. *Three weeks and you need to come home. Derek worked out his routine. Madame Sylvie confirmed yours is set too. She mentioned a boy distraction. What is she talking about?*
Another heavy sigh slipped through. It didn’t take her long to get an update.
I typed back the reply. *Not sure what she’s talking about.*
I groaned in my mind. I should tell her I wanted to stay longer. Instead, I didn’t comment on her request to come home. It was the plan all along, except now I had a compelling reason to stay.
Bas stood up from his spot and my eyes darted to him. His focus was on me as he walked over. His mood was dark and I watched him as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. He slipped his hands into his pockets, his gaze intense then dropped to his haunches before me.
He brought his hands to my thighs and I held his gaze as my heart thundered behind my chest. His spicy scent invaded my lungs, and I reached out to run my hand through his thick hair
“No running, principessa.” His voice was a raspy whisper nobody else could hear. “I gave you fair warning.”
He was all rough edges around other people, but he offered me glimpses of his vulnerability. I never wanted to be the cause of it.
“No running,” I vowed.
He stilled as if I surprised him with my promise, but then his fingers tightened on my thighs and warmth spread through me. God, I was falling fast and hard for this man. My breathing shallowed at his vicinity, his gaze warm on me. Like he was my gravity, I inched closer to him, inhaling deeply.
“What upset you?” he demanded to know.
“Ah, my mom sent a message,” I murmured.
My phone rang at that very moment and the screen flashed with the caller. Mom . I frowned, eyeing it with uncertainty. Avoidance was sometimes so much easier.
“You can answer it in the room over there,” Bas said, tilting to the room I hadn’t spotted before. “Priest’s men used that room. That way you can have some privacy.”
It wasn’t privacy I was worried about. It was getting reprimanded.
“Thank you,” I whispered, then pecked him on the cheek. I might as well bite the bullet and talk to her.
Jumping up, I strode towards the room while answering the phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“Wynter, who is this man Madame Sylvie mentioned?”
I blew a frustrated breath. No ‘hello’. No ‘how are you’. Nothing. Just straight to inquisition.
“Davina borrowed my Jeep,” I told her in an exasperated tone. “So I needed a ride.”
I entered the room, just as a man was leaving. “I’m going to the restroom,” he mouthed and I nodded. I suspected he just wanted to give me some privacy.
Mom’s voice came through the phone. “No distractions,” she warned.
“I’m not distracted,” I argued softly. “I finished the session and kept to my schedule.”
“That’s not what Madame Sylvie tells me,” she argued and I could hear disapproval in her voice. I could almost picture her knitted brows and critical gaze on me.
“Mom, give me some credit,” I protested. “It’s not my first rodeo and I know what it takes to win.”
“How can I when you’re keeping secrets?” she said, her voice full of disapproval. “Both you and Juliette.”
“We’re not,” I groaned. “We’ve been busy packing up the dorm room.” And dealing with the outcome of burning down Garrett’s house, as well as planning heists, but those words I’d keep to myself. “I just want-” I paused for a moment, then continued, “I need to be able to take a break, too.”
“Wynter, I told you it’s important to keep focused.
” Her measured voice came through the line, but instead of calming me, it fed my frustration.
“The Olympics won’t happen for another four years.
This is it. You are already at a disadvantage since Derek and you are not practicing together. The recordings only go so far.”
God, she didn’t hear a word I said.
I closed my eyes in disbelief. “Would it kill you to be my mother for just a minute?” The bitter words escaped with a shuddering breath. “Do you have to be my coach all the goddamn time?” I asked tersely.
The tense silence stretched and I realized my mistake. My mother hated theatrics. She lived and breathed discipline. She used it like her own cage and pulled me into it too. I didn’t think I'd ever heard her laugh. Her smiles were rare and her praise was reserved only for my skating achievements.
“We could train here,” I muttered, words leaving my lips with a hope in my heart.
“Who’s the man?” she asked, without answering my question and I knew no amount of begging would make her come.
“Nobody,” I answered with resignation.
She made a comment about the dangers of the East Coast, but in my mind, I already stopped listening. My eyes lowered to the document laid out on the table. It was a schedule of dates and routes. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand and the front side read ‘Cash pickup .’
Glancing over my shoulder, I noted the door was shut and I quickly snapped a picture of it, all the while my mother still went on about my discipline and need for a regimented schedule.
This could be our next project.