CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALLISON
“How long are we saying this is okay?” Rafe asks from his side of the couch in the game room.
Of the five Blackchapel Bastards I’ve met, he’s the one I’ve seen the most outside of Mathias. Which is how he roped me into playing video games with him every afternoon while Mathias holed up in his home office with Luca, Hugo, and Jonah, poring over Petit Enterprises company files.
The details of what they’re searching for are a bit vague, but that’s probably for the best.
I don’t need to get more wrapped up in Mathias’s life than necessary since I’m sure he’ll eventually get bored with this thing between us. I’ve seen enough of his life at the manor to know we’re as different as humble apple pie and Michelin-starred truffles.
He grew up in this massive mansion full of expensive artwork, state-of-the-art security, and a no-nonsense housekeeper who manages the eight people who sweep in and out every day to clean and cook for the entire household.
I grew up in one small apartment after another, running from eviction notices, as my parents struggled to figure out the simple concept of not spending more money than you earn.
Sure, Mathias was also raised by an evil man bent on revenge, but a mom and dad bent on tearing each other apart and putting their kids in the middle leaves its own sort of trauma.
The point is Mathias travels on a level of society where the bar for moral integrity may be low but the bank accounts are high, and I’m just a regular girl who felt uncomfortable treating myself while in Paris.
Maybe that’s why Mathias’s brothers weren’t exactly thrilled when they first met me.
They were friendly but wary, clearly confused about my connection to Mathias. And now that they’ve overheard me pleading my case to return home, it’s obvious they’re uneasy with the entire situation. Apparently, kidnapping doesn’t sit well with a group of men raised to kill.
Who knew?
Granted, Mathias doesn’t refer to getting me out of ‘that hellhole’ as kidnapping but tomato/potato , or something like that.
“We’re not saying this is okay. Period.” I slam my thumb on one of the controller buttons to send my race car surging forward. “Mathias is being stubborn, so it’s a matter of waiting him out. He’ll come to his senses eventually.”
Rafe snorts. “You don’t know Mathias.”
I groan as his black car cuts me off on the huge television screen. “That’s the point. Besides, I don’t know what he expects me to do around here. I can’t play video games with you all day.”
“You have two million dollars in your bank account,” a familiar voice calls. Mathias stands straight and tall in the doorway with a bottle of water in his hand. “Do something with it. Plus, you’ve got movies, games, a pool. Think of it as an extended vacation.”
“One I have to take against my will.”
He shrugs as if to say ‘I don’t know what to tell you’ before changing the subject. “Did you eat lunch?”
“Yes, mother. She ate a chicken quesadilla with me before we started playing,” Rafe interjects, rolling his eyes at Mathias’s mother henning.
“Good.” Mathias pins me with a look of approval that brings heat to my cheeks, sets the water in front of me, then stalks back to his office. One of his many check-ins officially completed.
As I turn back to the game, embarrassed by my immediate response to his one word of praise, I contemplate my future.
Am I willing to go back to North Carolina and start fresh? Yes, of course.
I’ve recovered from my minor breakdown, which honestly happened at least once a month with Bailey. It took that long for everything I bottled up to explode into a blubbering, hopeless mess. But now I’ve had my release, and I’m good to go.
Don’t think about releases! The prudish voice of an old Sunday school teacher screeches in my head.
But it's already too late. The memory of Mathias’s hard body grinding against mine, his thick fingers stroking me from the inside out. It sends more heat traveling lower to settle between my thighs as ghost sensations prickle along my skin.
Every morning, I wake to a mood boosting orgasm, thanks to his talented hands, and I can only imagine what his tongue or cock…
Ugh, no!
More unwelcome, inconvenient thoughts.
I refuse to let hormones cloud my judgment when I get enough of that with my imbalanced brain chemistry.
The point is I'm ready to forget my minor lapse of independence. I’m perfectly capable of handling my affairs by myself.
Mathias knows it.
His brothers know it.
There's just one tiny, troublesome problem I keep trying to ignore—the unfortunate truth that part of me wants to stay and live in this weird fantasy world for as long as Mathias lets me.
And how wrong is that?
How totally screwed up do you have to be to want something like that?
Then to actually be thankful for Mathias’s stubbornness in not letting me go.
It plays into my dreams of someone fighting for me. Someone caring enough to want me around. Who won’t be dissuaded by my half-hearted protests because they care too much for me.
Now, am I delusional enough to believe Mathias is on his way to falling in love with me? Ha! The possibility is so laughable I’m liable to turn into that scene from Mary Poppins where they laugh so hard they end up on the ceiling.
But he feels something , and it’s strong enough to warrant him warning the security guards stationed outside the manor to not let me through the gates without his presence.
He happily notified me of that particular rule about an hour after dinner that first evening.
So, I’m torn between what I should do and what I want to do, which honestly is the story of my life, and why I’ve secretly yearned for someone to make the decisions for me in the first place.
You’re going in circles now.
Because I’m right back to the beginning, rehashing the same thoughts over and over again.
“Hey, do you want to play another game?” Rafe asks. He’s technically the youngest, but that hardly makes him boyish. He’s just as muscular and hardened-looking as the other brothers but with a spark of humor that slightly lightens the dark shade of gray hanging over this place.
“What? Racing is fine. Why?”
“Because you seem distracted. If you’re not interested in this, we can—”
“No, sorry. I’m good.” Just trying to spiral into another anxiety attack. No biggie.
My phone dings, and I really don’t want to check it. Since leaving North Carolina, my inbox has blown up with angry messages from Bailey as the movers Mathias hired gathered my stuff. And on top of her texts, my brother keeps hounding me for the money to pay his phone bill because an unexpected expense made him short this month.
Based on the photos he’s shared on social media of multiple nights clubbing with friends, I can guess what his unexpected expenses were.
Preparing myself for either Bailey or Josh, I’m pleasantly surprised when it’s neither. Then confused.
“That's odd.”
"What? That someone's texting you?" Rafe jokes.
"No…” I lightly slap his arm. “It's the pharmacy letting me know that my prescription will be delivered tomorrow."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"Not when I didn't submit a refill request or switch to a Boston pharmacy. I think I was hacked."
Rafe is quiet for a moment before he chuckles and bumps my shoulder with his. "Yeah, by Mathias. Or me, after Mathias asked me to transfer your prescriptions to a local store and set up auto delivery."
"He did what?" Shock zaps down my spine, and I consciously ignore the other reaction the news brings—unabashed pleasure at the forethought.
“I probably shouldn't tell you about your therapist either, huh?”
“Did something happen to Tasha?”
Rafe shrugs while shaking his head, keeping his focus on the game while I've completely abandoned it.
“She wouldn't have been able to continue being your therapist since she wasn't licensed in Massachusetts, but that's taken care of now. Her license is being expedited after some finagling to get her to apply.”
My eyes widened. “You spoke to Tasha?”
“Not me. Mathias,” he says. “Are you sensing a theme here? Mathias is the mastermind behind all of this. I'm just the tech guy tapping away on the computer.”
I sink into the couch and watch as Rafe zooms around the track on the screen. It hadn't even occurred to me that I'd need to switch therapists.
And now, thanks to Mathias and Rafe, I apparently won't have to.
"How did he even know there was going to be an issue with her licensing?"
"One thing you'll learn about Mathias is that he's like the Eye of fucking Sauron, and we're just the orcs living under his rule of Mordor following his command."
"Speak for yourself, I'm a hobbit." I'd like to be an elf, but I'm nowhere near gorgeous or thin enough.
"Okay, fine. You're a hobbit, but unlike in the movie, Mathias sees you, and he's scary good at anticipating what people might need."
“That's comforting, especially since you're comparing him to a character villain.”
“Babe, you didn't think we were the heroes did you?”
“Don't call her babe .” Mathias’s sharp voice rings from the doorway.
“Couldn't stay away, could you?” Rafe taunts.
“Just thought I'd give you some real competition.” Mathias sits down and tugs me closer to him, adding space between me and his brother.
“I take offense to that. I'm getting pretty good at this game.”
The two men share a look over my head, and I huff in mock annoyance. It's kind of nice being teased by them. Like I'm part of the family.
Too bad it won't last.