Chapter 23
Xander
Soft clinking pulls me out from my short sleep. My sketchbook slides off my lap onto the carpeted floor at the same time as I jerk up in my seat. Sunlight now fills the room, the muted black and gold accents clear.
Camila stirs. I snatch my sketchbook off the floor and shove it under the seat.
A groan slips out from her throat as she stretches, still not having noticed her wrists are wrapped in chains.
Her perky tits press through the t-shirt as she arches, and that sight is doing nothing to help my already hard dick.
Suddenly, she freezes, and her eyes ping open, landing directly on me. She takes her time twisting her head to observe her bound wrists. But, as with every situation, her face is illegible. My hands grip the leather seat’s armrests, my body stiff and ready to spring into action.
“Xander…” she finally speaks, her voice raspy from sleep.
“Yes, Angel?”
She side-eyes me. “What in the fuck are you doing?” She asks through clenched teeth.
I spring up from the chair, climbing onto the bed.
Her legs press through the thin fabric of the quilt.
I wrap my hand lightly around her ankle and drag upwards as I tentatively bring myself closer to her.
The bed dips with my weight as I pin either side of her with my knees.
I can see the frustrated rise and fall of her chest, her arms hanging in the air.
My hands journey up her tiny waist and settle on the sides of her face.
Her cheeks flame red at the touch, but her eyes regard me all the same.
An angry question.
Have I just made the situation worse?
“Don’t panic,” I coo softly as my thumbs rub along her cheeks.
Her arm comes down but is jerked to a stop as the chains block against each other.
“I’m not panicking,” she swallows, voice tentative like she’s trying to tame a wild animal. And maybe she is. “I just want to know why the fuck I’m chained to your bed.”
“I didn’t want you to leave,” I all but rush out.
“Why would I—”
In a flash, my hand is wrapping around her slender throat, and her eyes widen, chains rattling with her sudden jolt of movement.
“I’m a killer, Camila. I’m not a good man. What I told you last night? What you already know? Anyone would run for the hills. But you haven’t, and I still couldn’t stand the thought of waking up and you’d be gone. You’ve etched yourself into me; there’s no escaping me now.”
Her throat bobs beneath my palm, her lips closing.
“You’re a dangerous man,” she whispers like it’s finally dawned on her.
I incline my head, my eyes never leaving hers. She seems to contemplate for a few seconds. Her hands fist in her restraints, clenching and unclenching repeatedly.
“And I’m damaged,” she confesses. I shake my head.
There’s no possible way this embodiment of a divine being thinks she’s anything but perfect.
She counteracts my movement and nods.
If anyone is damaged, it’s me.
“I’m the damaged one, Angel. Just look at what I’ve done to you.”
My chest squeezes with guilt. Even after my stunt, she looks at me with that soft look in her emerald eyes—the one that makes me feel like maybe I might be worthy of love.
“Then we can be damaged together.” She nods—more to herself than me.
The chains clink against the metal bedframe, her eyebrows pulling upwards in the centre as she gives me a soft, pleading look.
I reluctantly unwind the chains from around her wrists, cautiously looking to make sure she’s not about to make a run for it.
But she’s not, because I’m literally sitting on top of her.
Taking her wrist in my hand, I bring it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss there.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“I don’t know what this thing is between us, Xander,” she sighs. “But I’ve been through worse. And you don’t frighten me as much as you should.”
There’s that pit of fire starting in my chest again. What could possibly be worse than me?
My hands start to tremble with slowly building rage as I squeeze both of her hands in mine.
“What are you hiding from me?” I’m practically begging.
“I—”
Loud pounding from downstairs interrupts her. She snaps herself out of her slouched position from beneath me, and I slip off her, padding towards my phone on the chair I slept in all night.
“It’s probably just Jac looking for me after the storm,” I reassure.
Tapping on the CCTV camera app on my phone, I wait for it to load up all the club cameras.
Another set of bangs.
The cameras finally load, and my heart almost falls out of my ass. There are three police officers outside the front door of the club. I spring towards my jumper jumbled on the floor and throw it over myself.
“What’s wrong?” Camila asks, her voice now a higher octave.
My mind works to make a quick decision of what to do about Camila. If she comes down with me, the police will question her. If I tell her to hide, she’ll probably do the opposite and come down anyway.
So, I’m only left with one choice in this situation.
“The police are here.”
I don’t want to panic her, but this is an urgent situation. One I sure as hell hope Jac knows about.
“What?” she shrieks and jumps out of bed, throwing the pillows off and frantically searching for something. I stalk towards her, grabbing her gently by the shoulders. My eyes flick to the chains hanging from the frame.
That’s not a good fucking look for a search.
“Hey,” I start, grabbing her dainty face in my hands—they cover almost her entire face. “It’s okay. I will handle it.”
“Are you in trouble?” she asks, concern lining her features.
Something stirs in my chest at that.
I give her a reassuring smile. “Nothing I haven’t handled before. It’s your choice whether you want to stay up here or come down.”
“I’m coming with you. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with the police.”
She steels herself and takes a deep breath, averting her gaze.
Whatever it is she’s hiding from me, I will need to find out sooner or later. Something tells me that the constant on-edge look she has about her has something to do with it.
I nod once, and she follows me out of the bedroom into the sparsely decorated halls. Her eyes bounce around the décor. I suppose she rarely sees it like this.
We enter the main floor through the double doors, the gold and black space in full, unobstructed view from the fluorescent lights.
“This looks even better in normal light,” she says in awe from behind me, which makes me chuckle.
I place the key into the lock and open the door a crack, the cold air flooding into the space along with that petrichor scent. One officer instantly places his foot at the frame of the door to stop me from shutting it on them.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” I drawl.
“There you fucking are,” Jacques’ accent booms from the side of the door.
I push it open further, revealing a not-very-pleased Jac standing behind them.
His face is turned up into a scowl, and he’s got his suit on instead of his usual casual t-shirt.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours. ”
“The service cut out. I haven’t had any messages.” I shrug.
“Mr Warren, we’ve had reports of illegal activity in this club,” one of the older officers starts, holding up his badge. Chief Inspector David Jones. He pulls out a warrant from his other pocket, showing it to both me and Jac. “We have a warrant to enter the premises.”
My knuckles rap gently against the wooden doorframe. I can feel Camila’s presence behind me the entire time.
After years of owning this club, we’ve never had the police on our door for ‘suspicious activity’, and by the looks of things, Jac is just as confused as I am, because he averts his gaze to anywhere that isn’t me.
He does it when he doesn’t want us to look suspicious.
I can’t understand how this would happen.
The only other time we had police knocking on our door was when we first opened DL and made a rookie mistake.
“Can we ask what type of activity?” I keep my voice as casual as possible.
“We cannot disclose that information,” a younger officer pipes up from beside Jac.
“Since you’re entering my premises, I think I deserve to know.”
“Move aside, please, Mr Warren,” the older officer requests in a no-bullshit tone.
I let out a long breath through my nose and push the door open for them, stepping to the side. My hands reach out behind my back and guide Camila backwards with me.
The officers start making their way in one by one.
I take mental note of each of their badges as they pass us.
The last officer to enter has a closely shaved head of brown hair, with tattoos trailing up his neck.
Bright hazel eyes and a chiselled face, paired with a light sprinkle of dark stubble.
He looks more like a convict than a police officer.
His eyes size me up as he passes me, and our gazes stay locked on each other as he gets further into the space.
I glance down at his badge before he disappears behind me.
Axel Bailey.
Jac swaggers in, eyes snagging on Camila.
She clears her throat behind me. “Good morning, Mr Warren.”
His steps slow, and his head subtly moves backwards in shock. He flicks his attention to me, eyebrow arching.
“Nothing happened,” I say quietly, teeth clenched.
He looks back to Camila, taking in her small frame in my too-big clothes. He doesn’t say a word as he continues making his way in, pulling out a chair at one of the tables and sitting.
I slam the door shut, twisting back to get a full view of the club. The officers have spread out now, looking for whatever they’re searching for. They won’t find anything, but I sure as hell will find the fucking rat in our circle.
I take a protective stance in front of Camila as she scans every officer in the building.
Jac shoots out from his chair, trudging towards me. “Xander,” he hisses. “Have you been taking—”
“Do not finish that fucking sentence, Jac.”
I knew it was coming. Just one look at us together, Camila in my clothes, has set his protective side off. But I’m not sure if he’s protecting me or Camila. He can see the train wreck waiting to happen from a mile away.
She shuffles behind us, coming to stand next to me.
“Now is not the time,” I murmur as quietly as I can so that she doesn’t hear. “What’s more important is what are the fucking pigs doing here?” I finish.
“I don’t know. They showed up at the estate this morning. They didn’t think anyone would be at the club at this time. I had to come with them. And trying to get a hold of you has been a separate fucking task.”
“Any more on Aidan?”
“No. But I have a feeling this was his doing.”
I nod in agreement. I check in on Camila—her arms are folded over her chest, and she’s bouncing on her feet.
My hands itch to reach out to her. Offer her comfort. Tell her she’ll be fine no matter what happens.
But I can’t.
Not when Jac is here and he’s already suspicious.
Axel leans against the bar, arms folded across his chest, watching the other officers. He works out, that’s for sure.
Jac nudges me with his elbow. “Hey, newbie?” he asks, jerking his head towards Axel.
“You think?”
“He’s not joining in the search, just watching that old bloke.”
Axel’s eyes find us, and he carefully regards us. I subtly take a few steps to the right, shielding Camila out of view again. Axel smirks and diverts his gaze. Something in my blood runs hotter, and I stand in front of Camila fully, Jac throwing me a curious glance.
Dave approaches us and clears his throat. “I’d like access to your systems, if possible.”
They haven’t found anything, as expected.
“Sure,” Jac answers without missing a beat, leading him to the office.
The computers at DL are all clean. All the money laundering happens back at the estate.
Camila pulls my attention. “I should probably go home."
My body tenses. This wasn’t the fucking plan.
But I can’t force her to stay.
Yet.
“Okay,” I reply, and she smiles at me.
We stay there, just looking at each other, and I feel like a fucking teenager who just asked his crush out on a date.
God fucking dammit. What is this woman doing to me?
She spins, opening the club doors, gym bag slung over her shoulder.
With one last glance at me, she leaves.