Chapter 12
Xander
She caught me. And fuck did it make my stomach twist. But that unmistakable sparkle of intrigue in her eyes flushed a feeling of content throughout me.
My little Angel liked being followed home.
By me. It physically pained me to walk away from her after.
All I wanted to do was bend her over the hood of her brand-new, snow-white Audi and show her just how much time she’s been taking up in my head, how much she consumes me.
Which is why I’m currently in my room, sitting at my desk, smoothing the black gradient with my finger along the paper.
It’s not working. This stick of charcoal is doing nothing to complement her perfect features. I can’t get it right. What’s more, these monochrome colours can’t capture the breathtaking green of her eyes. For the first time in years, I considered buying that one colour. Just for her eyes.
I drag the coal along the paper, shaping the curve of her ass, smudging it with my finger to blend into her hips, trying to create a perfectly round shape.
I’ve looked and paid attention to her body enough times to know what it looks like.
And for someone who lives in my head all the damn time, it sure isn’t translating onto paper.
The rain splatters gently on the window, causing a swirl of havoc to cloud my mind. There’s noise echoing throughout the house from staff flitting about.
Cleaning.
Security footsteps.
Communication chatter drifting through the closed door.
I growl and slam my sketchbook shut.
I’ll never be able to get her down onto paper. She’s too perfect. Too beautiful.
She’s something that you’d never be able to capture accurately.
I push away from the desk, turning off the lamp, casting my room in a grey hue. It’s still only six o’clock, which means I have five hours until I can see my Angel again.
Sauntering into the bathroom, I turn the tap for the shower, mist immediately filling the black marbled space. Stripping my grey joggers off, I step into the rainfall shower, lukewarm water cooling my skin. I breathe through it until my mind clears.
It’s quiet.
Or, as quiet as it can be until Camila’s face flashes in the darkness of my closed eyes.
“Fuck,” I whisper as water cascades through my soaked hair and onto my face.
Another flash. But it’s her on her knees in front of me, running her hands along every rounded curve of her body, exactly how I command her to. Blood rushes to my cock, my hand gripping it out of its own accord.
I’m trying so fucking hard to keep this obsession at bay.
It’s eating away at my brain. I don’t want to scare her away.
It’s the last thing I want to do. I need her.
But I hear the way her breath hitches when I’m near.
The heat of her body pressing against mine.
I won’t be able to keep it chained for much longer.
I need her.
Every second that passes that she’s not here, the craving gets stronger.
I imagine her spread out on the bed in front of me—wrists and ankles bound to the frame by cuffs.
She’s strong. Stubborn.
And what a delight it would be to have her at my mercy. Begging me instead of keeping me at an arm’s length. Utterly naked and exquisite.
The grip on my cock tightens to the point it’s almost painful. I begin rough strokes as the water rains over my back. My breathing picks up as she smirks at me, pussy glistening, hair already a tangled mess from our previous session.
“Please, Xander. Touch me.”
Her voice echoes in my head like the sweetest fucking sin, and my hand tugs upwards, then down in slow, leisurely strokes.
The vision of her bound and naked is so vivid that it doesn’t take long before my balls tighten and shivers spread along my spine.
I groan low as release slams into me, and ropes of cum spray the shower tiles.
My chest heaves as my body comes down from the high, the picture of her slowly fading, replaced by that soft smile I caught when she was talking to Corrine at the bar.
A loud banging on the door jerks me out of my post-orgasm daze.
“You’ve been in there for fucking ages,” Jacques’ cockney accent drifts through the door.
“I’m coming,” I call back, keeping my breaths even.
I grab the smaller showerhead off the wall and spray down the tiles, trying so fucking hard not to imagine that it’s me wiping my cum off Camila’s toned stomach.
Turning off the shower, I step out and grab a towel neatly folded over the rail and wrap it around myself.
Steam escapes into my bedroom as I open the door, revealing Jacques sprawled out on my bed like a starfish, scrolling on his phone with one of his arms behind his head, wearing all black—as usual.
Not quite who I was just imagining in the same exact position.
“Jesus Christ, you’d think your skin would’ve melted off in that temperature.” He fans himself with his hand.
“Asshole,” I grumble, throwing my old clothes into the washing basket. “I’d rather a one-thousand-degree shower than your colder-than-the-fucking-Arctic ones. And it’s not even that hot.”
“It’s good for your body.” He shrugs, propping himself up against the headboard.
“You’re an insane bastard.”
He wiggles his dark eyebrows at me.
I sigh. “What are you doing in my room?”
He sits up, sliding to the edge of the bed and leaning forward on his elbows. “One of our warehouses burnt down last night.”
“What?” I snap.
Last night? I’m usually the first one to know when shit goes south with our deals and supplies.
“While you were at DL. Somewhere that no one ever finds you.” He cocks an eyebrow.
My heart freezes in my chest.
He knows. He fucking knows.
A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck at the thought of him keeping me away from Camila.
Has he noticed money missing from the bank for Camila’s Audi?
He’s the only person that knows about the pills. The obsessive episodes.
I’ve kept to myself since the night I was coerced into dealing drugs. This cartel is what’s kept me at bay. I can’t slip up. He’ll know.
Frantic knocking sounds on my door, and Penelope’s voice interrupts our conversation.
Saved by the bell.
“Mr Warren? Max is back.”
We both whip our heads to each other. When I open the door, Ezra and Daniel are standing on either side of Penelope, her face smothered in… Shock? Concern?
I don’t care to place the emotion as I grab a fresh pair of boxers and trousers and hurry back into the bathroom to put them on before we all breakneck towards the office wing.
“You’re supposed to be with your family.” I turn to Ezra as we walk.
“I brought them to the estate, sir. I hope that’s okay,” he says.
“Marley is here?”
“She is.” He smiles.
“Oh, I can’t wait to give that crafty toddler some cuddles,” Jac chimes in from the front.
Ezra and Eve have the cutest little girl, Marley.
Everyone is absolutely smitten with her, especially Jac.
She refers to us as ‘Uncle’. And since Ezra spends a lot of time here, I gave him the go-ahead to have a break and enjoy some undisturbed time with his family.
Ezra and Daniel may be our bodyguards, but they’re also friends.
Daniel doesn’t have a family of his own, so he’s constantly here.
“Why didn’t you stay at your house?” I ask.
“Given that Max went missing, I figured you’d want us available for emergencies.”
“I would’ve found someone else, Ez.”
“I know.” He shrugs. “But you couldn’t find better than us, let’s be honest.”
“He’s got a point.” Daniel agrees.
We get to the office wing and burst into Jacques’ office, where Max is sprawled out on his sofa. T-shirt ripped, bruises all over his inked arms, his face almost unrecognisable. His black hair is a tangled mess and looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days.
He groans in pain when he hears us enter.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Jacques asks, rushing over to his side whilst signalling at Penelope to call the in-house paramedic.
He wheezes, clearly struggling to breathe. Ezra and Daniel both take their seats on any available chair, while I stand at the end of the sofa.
“I–I–” Max struggles. He can barely open his eyes.
“Water,” I command, and Daniel rushes towards the water fountain in the corner of the room.
“Who brought him in, Penelope?” I urge, twisting my head towards her. She’s fixed on Max, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.
“No one, Mr Warren. He was just laid out on the top of the stairs of the front door,” she explains, but she won’t meet anyone’s eyes.
“He’s struggling to talk. There’s no way we’re getting information out of him today,” Jac says, standing up and grabbing a bottle of disinfectant from his desk drawer.
He pours it over Max’s bloodied knee, making him scrunch his face and moan out in pain.
“I’m sorry,” Jac grimaces.
Ezra hisses from the other side of the room, squinting away from the sight as Daniel comes back with a small glass of water.
I gently thread my arms under Max’s shoulders and slowly pull him up to a sitting position, grabbing the glass from Dan and gently pressing it to the bottom of Max’s cut lip.
He slowly tilts his head, and I move the glass with him as he swallows the contents.
“Fucking shit,” I murmur. “Ezra, get a team on tracking down Aiden.”
Ezra nods and rushes out of the room. An older, male doctor rushes in after he leaves. The doctor’s face morphs into shock as he takes in the sight of Max.
“Do you think the fire was him?” Jac asks.
“Get him into the first aid room. Now,” I say in the doctor's direction. He nods his head, and Daniel helps him pull out a stretcher, rolling Max onto it.
I turn to Jac. “It had to be. This is a warning”—I point to Max—“but it doesn’t look like he was in any sort of fire. We need to track down that bastard. I fucking warned him.”
Though, as I say that, the only thing I can think about is Camila.