Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Promise
I know I’m dreaming because I’m talking nonstop. And the person who sits across from me, listening…is my dead mother.
“I shouldn’t trust him, right?” I ask with a huff. “Donald was the one who set this up, and I know there is a punishment lurking in the shadows. It’s not enough that he’s marrying me off to some criminal. He expects that this will really hurt. Somehow. Someway.”
My mother’s eyes crinkle with worry. “I should be there with you. I’m sorry that I’m not.”
“You aren’t to blame.” I shake my head as I reach for her hand. “We both know it’s his violence that did this.”
She looks away. “I could have fought harder. I should have left him years ago.”
Fighting my father sometimes feels like fighting the wind. You can’t get your hands around him.
But since this is my dream, I have to face the fact that I am actually the one who feels this way. That I wish she’d left him, killed him, protected me.
I can’t change the past. She wasn’t raised by a monster, she didn’t have the tools. But me? I’ve been trained since birth to understand how he thinks.
Which is why I need to figure out what my father’s angle is…he didn’t drop me at Angel’s door for sexy time and fun, I’m certain of that.
“I forgive you, Mama,” I murmur, leaning closer.
“Promise.”
But the voice isn’t right. It’s deep and dark and…
“Promise.”
My eyes snap open, but I can’t make them focus, the world blurry. My hand comes to the bed to push up, only it’s not a bed that my palm rests on. It’s a hard chest.
I give my head a shake, blinking my eyes to clear them. Dark tattoos move under my hand a moment before I find myself moving, landing on top of the chest I’d just been studying.
My chin snaps up, my gaze meeting Angel’s intense amber eyes.
I draw in a quick breath, trying to push up and away, but he holds me tight. “Settle.”
The quiet rumble makes me freeze, but my limbs are shaking. It’s something about the dream, juxtaposed with this moment.
I haven’t dreamed of my mother since a few weeks after her death. Almost a year.
But last night, for the first time, I made noise. Not words but sounds, and they’ve loosened something inside me, memories or fears, or…
I look down to realize I’m still naked, and in the cobra position, my breasts are on full display.
Angel notices too, his eyes darkening as they narrow and slide down my body. I drop back down on his chest.
It was one thing to be parading around naked in the dark of night, but another to just be out there in the full light of day.
My cheeks heat as I turn my face away, but Angel only rumbles out a laugh. “By the time I’m done with you, I’ll know every inch and you won’t bat an eye.”
The words might be innocent, but the dream still lingers and I curl my shoulders. When will he be done with me? What will he do with me then?
His hand slides down my back, his rough hand a deep comfort despite my fears that hang over me this morning.
Part of me wants to ask…
What would he answer? Would he be honest?
But before I can grab his phone and type my questions, a strange noise fills the loft. I lift my head again, alert and tense.
“My elevator,” he grunts, and then he’s rolling us over so that I’m beneath him. He gives me a short, strong kiss before he rolls off me and to the edge of the bed. He leans down and grabs his boxer briefs, snapping them up his legs, and then stands, pulling them up over his butt.
I just watch, in awe of his body, the fluidity of his movement, the strength of his muscles. I reach out and touch his thigh…tentatively.
I have no idea if I’m allowed to just reach out and touch him or not.
He turns, his expression soft enough. “What is it?”
Who? I mouth.
“Likely my brother, Axel. Your father dropped your things at the club this morning and my brother is delivering them here.”
Why didn’t my father just bring them here himself?
“Angel,” a deep voice calls.
“Coming,” Angel answers, disappearing out of the room. I scoot to the edge of the bed, grabbing his T-shirt off the floor and pulling it over my shoulders.
I practically drown in the fabric as I slide from the bed and it falls to my mid thighs.
Making my way into the bathroom, I pee and rinse my mouth. I come out just in time to hear Angel ask, “Think you were followed?”
“Definitely. But I took them for a nice lap around New York, and I lost them in Lower Manhattan.”
“Air tags?”
“Not anymore. Found two, removed them both.”
My eyes go wide. Because it’s clear that Angel does not want my father to know where he lives…where I live.
And knowing that makes some of the tension in my shoulders unwind. There is a layer of protection between me and my father.
Two.
Angel didn’t let anyone hurt me yesterday, and now my father has no idea how to find me.
And while I still plan to expose him for the monster he is, having some protection makes everything in me soften.
I step into the doorway, partially hiding behind the door. I’m not spying on them, I’m just not wearing very much clothing.
Axel faces me, Angel’s back is to the bedroom. He looks even more impressive in the morning light, his stance wide, his bare shoulders impossibly broad.
Axel sees me, his eyes narrowing.
He points, which makes Angel turn. “Promise.”
I give a little wave, blushing. The door was open, but I feel like I’m intruding.
“The courier who delivered this stuff asked where to send the stylists.” Axel is still eyeing me like someone might look at a snake.
That’s when the elevator rattles again, another of the brothers appearing in the loft.
I can’t remember his name.
“What kind of circus did we just fucking join?” he grits out as he enters the room carrying two large garment bags. His eyes sweep over his brothers before they land on me, his lip curling in distaste.
I nip at my lip. Between Rock wanting to burn me yesterday and the looks today, I am not a popular person here in Angel’s life.
And while Angel seems to be a man of control, I am far less certain what the brothers are about.
“Do we need stylists?” Angel asks, looking at me. “I am supposed to look more like a politician and less like the dregs of society.”
My brows lift at his self-description, and also, because my father is definitely up to something. Even his plans have plans within the plans. Always. I’ve watched enough of them unfold from the sidelines to understand that truth.
I shake my head. I’ve spent my whole life next to a public figure. I know how to do makeup, even cut my father’s hair in a pinch.
But what I didn’t realize is that I was somehow giving the green light for both of the brothers to start toward the bedroom.
I scurry back, grabbing the comforter and wrapping it around my shoulders just as they walk into the room.
Axel is slightly shorter with a thinner build than the others. He’s not any less frightening as he curls his lip, grimacing at me. “No point in being shy. My brother reeks of your pussy.”
My mouth falls open as I stare at him. Did he really just say that?
“Shut the fuck up,” Angel says as he walks in too. “Gunner, lay the bags on the bed.”
The other man moves toward the bed. Gunner. He looks like he could be a professional athlete, his body is so sculpted but the look in his eyes, this man is as hard as they come.
He tosses the bags on the bed. “Her wedding dress is in there and a suit for you for today.”
“Want to look?” Angel asks.
I shake my head. I couldn’t care less what’s in the bags. I get told what to wear, I wear it. That’s it.
But all three men look at me like I’m crazy. Which makes me pause, my head cocking even as I pull the comforter tighter around my body.
“You don’t care about your wedding dress? I thought that was a girl thing?” Axel asks, eyeing me with more curiosity and less suspicion this time.
I shrug. It’s not like I picked it. Angel angles his head, studying me. “What are you thinking?”
From under the comforter, I pull out a single hand, gesturing for him to give me his phone.
He unlocks it and hands it over. Sitting on the bed, so I can keep the comforter around me and still communicate, I start typing:
The dress isn’t for me. This wedding is just another story for the press. I’ll be dressed for the narrative, not myself.
Angel reads my message and grimaces. “What’s the story?”
I shake my head.
You know better than me, but honestly, whatever he’s told you, it isn’t all of it. Not even close.
I hand the phone back to Angel. He reads the message, grunting.
But Gunner eyes me again. “And you’re not working some angle, blondie? You’re not trying to use my brother to get back at Daddy?”
Angel considers Gunner, his face expressionless. But he doesn’t tell his brother to be quiet. He looks as though he’s considering the possibility that Gunner is right.
I swallow down a lump. Because Gunner isn’t entirely wrong. Whatever my father has planned, it’s not going to be good for me. And for once, I’d love to turn the tables on him. In fact, it’s the reason I keep waking up every day.
I reach out my hand.
Angel hesitates before he hands back the phone.
When he smiles, he’s lying. You’ll know the one. He looks like a Ken doll. Ask all the questions and make your own decision.
Then I hand back the phone and stand, skirting around them to make my way into the bathroom. I want to be alone, maybe I even want to cry.
I could use a shower, not that I have any of my products yet, but I’m not unpacking the bags in front of them.
But as I go to close the bathroom door, Angel blocks me. I can’t meet his eye, I’m a little afraid I might cry.
I was so open with him last night and this morning…
“I’m going to make coffee and breakfast. We’ll leave you to unpack.”
My brow furrows. Does he want me to unpack in here? I thought I’d be staying in the guest room?
But all three brothers leave the room.
The garment bags are on the bed, but I start with the suitcases.
Pulling out some sweatpants, I put them on and then get to work.